I slide my eyes to Derek and…he winks at me. Holy Mother of Harry Styles. What was that? My stomach swoops like I’m in turbulence on a plane. He blatantly broke rule number eighteen (not that we’re supposed to be tracking it). I can’t believe the way my body responds to him. It’s unearthly. I’ve slept with other men—good-looking men, I might add—and my stomach never swooped. Not once. And all Derek has to do is wink? He’s always been able to undo me in a way that terrifies me.
