Laila and Paxton stood by the edge of the skating rink, faces flushed and tight—whether from the cold or humiliation, it was hard to tell. The crowd was already dispersing, laughter and chatter filling the air, but the tension around them remained sharp.
Autumn slowed her steps in front of them, her fingers still laced with Caleb’s, grounding her, steady.
She tilted her head, a small, wicked smile playing on her lips.
“So,” Autumn said lightly, tilting her head as she glanced up at Caleb, “what was it they were saying about a bet?”
Caleb’s lips curved into a slow, satisfied smirk. “Oh, I remember now. Public apology… and giving your job back.”
A murmur rippled through the onlookers.
Laila scoffed, folding her arms. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Autumn. That performance was just luck.
