Read Pranked for Free Online Page B

I have for you,” I said, sliding the tray of strawberries closer to her. Time to move the joke forward .
    “Strawberries?” she asked.
    “You don’t like strawberries?”
    “No, they’re fine,” she said, tilting her head and regarding the mound. “Just... not very creative. I’m disappointed.” Her expression was deadpan except for the twinkle in her eye, and for the first time I saw it—whatever it was that had obviously landed her the part of Gabby Rover in the first place. Whatever it was that transformed her from just another child star into America’s Sweetheart.
    She had a spark of mischief in her that I recognized in myself. It made her irresistible. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, fully aware of the broad smile I was wearing but completely incapable of stopping it. “I’ll have to try harder in the future.”
    “You’d better,” she said, plucking a strawberry from the top and only just exposing the corner of the ring box. I watched as she ate, trying to contain my excitement at seeing her reaction. That was the best part, watching people reacting. That was really the only reason I ever pulled pranks in the first place.
    It wasn’t until she’d finished her first strawberry and reached for a second that she noticed it. Her head shot up, and she gave me a curious, confused look. “What’s this?” she asked, nodding to the box.
    I shrugged. “I didn’t get the chance to do this properly last night,” I said, reaching in to pick the little case out from amongst the fruit and opening it for her.
    “Sapphires,” she cooed, her hand coming over to brush fingertips over the ring, as though she wasn’t sure it was actually real. “They’re my—”
    “Birthstone,” I finished. “I know.” I only knew because I’d looked it up when I was doing surreptitious research on her, but it was the thought that counted. “And it matches your eyes.”
    “It’s beautiful,” she said, plucking the box from my hand for a closer look. Her brow furrowed as she looked it over, and I had to wonder what she was thinking of that made her look at a simple ring so intently. When she looked up at me, her eyes were bright, like she might cry, and she turned away quickly, clearing her throat.
    “There’s this too,” I said, pulling out the certificate I’d printed, just to give us both something else to focus on. “You were laughing so hard when you signed it that you smeared the ink.”
    She turned back without meeting my eyes and glanced down at the paper, the box still held in her hand. “Is that even binding?” she asked, squinting at the mess I’d made for her signature.
    “Oh you did much better on the official copy. That one is still being filed with the state before they’ll send it back to us. This is the touristy, ‘I was married by Elvis’ copy.”
    The laugh that slipped out of her was unexpected to both of us. She covered her mouth with her free hand, as the sound bubbled out. “Well,” she said, when she came back to herself, “I guess it’s a good souvenir?” She finally held up the box and said, “Do you mind if I... don’t wear this yet?”
    I held up my hands and shook my head. “Not at all. Take all the time you need.” I’d tell her the truth before we left Vegas, at least. I found myself hoping she’d still want to come with me, though, and I worried that telling her would make her change her mind—especially if she couldn’t even remember how much fun we’d together last night. She held the black, velvet box in her hand, carefully balancing it between her fingers for a moment before dropping it into the pocket of her robe and glancing around the room.
    “I should probably get dressed,” she said, and I felt the awkwardness in her voice. She sounded almost apologetic.
    “Only if you really want to,” I teased, trying to break the tension. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
    She tensed, visibly, her shoulders tightening and her head