"That's the blonde I'm looking for." Hayden's gaze flicked over her before settling firmly on me, but they made Sheila's eyes light up. Until she turned to me.
"School dropout?" she gasped, pulling me aside, whispering urgently. "How do you know Young Master Christensen?"
Our attention was paused by a man in his thirties who just walked in — with an expensive suit, neat hair, the kind of confidence that said money. Sheila rushed to serve him, but his gaze kept drifting toward me.
Uncomfortable heat crawled across my skin. Maybe it was the outfit. I hated to admit it, but I probably looked… adorable. And that only made it worse.
"She's seventeen," Hayden said suddenly, his voice cold and loud — aimed squarely at the man. Then his eyes cut back to me. "What are you wearing?"
I looked down at the frills and bows, sighed, then noticed he was in uniform. "You went to school?"
"The dorms were destroyed, not the school itself."
