“Ready to go?” Warren asked me, poking his head into the bathroom.

I tightened the drawstrings of my hoodie, pulling it snug around my head.

“I’m ready. Don’t you clean up nice?” I asked, turning to smirk at him.

Warren held his arms out and turned from side to side. “I suppose I don’t look so bad.”

“She doesn’t stand a chance,” I teased, sticking my tongue out.

It was the night of Warren’s date with the fake Ciana, but I ...