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The sporty look fills my head with new fantasies, as if I wasn’t already at max capacity.
She’s talking to a guy, someone I don’t recognize. He’s wearing the uniform employees wear if they work inside Elena’s Village: white peasant top and breeches. No nametag. Blond Bieber hair. He’s her same height, which means I tower over the two of them as I approach.
“Yeah, so come by sometime and I’ll let you taste it,” he says, his voice drugged with longing. “Best flavor we’ve ever had.”
She grins and nods enthusiastically just before the guy glances down at his phone, curses, and complains that he has to run or he’ll be late for work.
Yes. Go.
I should brush off this exchange, but Whitney and I are friends now, right? Shouldn’t that come with perks?
“Who was that?” I ask, watching as he runs down the corridor.
“Fudge guy.”
My eyes widen with mischief. “The guy you—”
She leaps up to cover my mouth with her hand. “Yes! Don’t make a joke. I think he’s kind of cute.”
I smile against her palm.
“If I take my hand away, will you be nice?”
I shrug, saying without words that I can’t make any promises.
“Listen, okay, sometimes he lets me have free samples. It’s sweet. He was telling me about a pumpkin spice flavor they’re debuting for fall.”
My grin only widens under her palm. It’s too good.
“Ugh! Whatever. Eat dinner by yourself. I don’t want to hear it.”
She removes her hand from my mouth, spins, and takes off toward the cafeteria. After only a few strides, I catch her easily, and though I try to wipe the grin off my face, it’s carved in stone.
“You know he’s technically stealing company property doling out free samples like that,” I point out, needling her.
Her eyes warn me to drop it.
“He’s kind of small, don’t you think?” I go on. “Petite for a guy.”
“You’re only pushing me further into his arms. Keep it up and maybe I’ll just find myself madly in love with him.”
“Fudge guy,” I say with a flat tone.
“The one and only.”
Her frown finally cracks into a small smile and she sidesteps into me, trying to playfully shove me away. She only succeeds in hurting her shoulder. She rolls it out and shoots me a glare.
“Do you work out a lot?”
I glance down. I’m dressed in athletic clothes too, per Thomas’ suggestion.
“I guess. Pickup soccer games. Cardio. Weights here and there. Why?”
“Just wondering. Now c’mon, let me introduce you to this little hidden gem I know of.” By now, we’re at the cafeteria, and she waves a hand across the tables toward a restaurant on the other side. “Subway—have you heard of it?”Rehearsals for the holiday parade take place inside a dance studio near the parade warehouse. I’m a fish out of water as we walk into the room, mirrors reflecting off two of the four walls. There are a dozen In Character employees in workout gear, huddled in groups. Some of them stretch, some of them lean against the back mirror. All of them stare at Whitney and me as we walk in.
She waves to most of them. They seem glad to see her. The few men in the room are heavily outnumbered, which might be why we’re drawing so much attention. I don’t wait for Whitney to choose a spot, leading us straight to the back corner, away from prying eyes.
I expected Thomas to be here to offer moral support, but when the studio door opens again, a tall older woman strolls in, light on her feet. She has gray hair pulled into a bun, accented by a purple scarf. Her features are slight, her thin frame hidden under a black tunic and tights.
She walks to the center of the room and just as the door bangs closed, she claps her hands. Any stray chatter dies a swift death.
“As most of you know, these rehearsals move quickly. We’ll be in studio through next week. After that, we’ll move to the parade warehouse and practice on the floats. Three weeks from now, we have our first real parade. Raise your hand if you have any questions.”
No one does.
She nods. “Good. Though most of you are veterans, the scripts have changed this year. I’ll pass these out.” She holds up cue sheets. “Read them over. Start to rehearse. I’ll come around, give feedback, and answer questions.” She glances down, reading off the script. “Float one. Safari Island. Giraffes.”
A guy saunters up to retrieve the script for his group. It continues from there. Safari Island has the first seven floats in the parade, and those that follow will be filled with characters from the Enchanted Forest: huntsman, elves, fairies. Princess Elena’s float is the grand finale.
Whitney whispers to me as we wait for our script. “Don’t worry, last year they made my float look like a ballroom. There were lots of couples dancing on it and my old partner and I didn’t need much practice. If it’s the same this year, just spin me around and around until the fireworks go off. Easy enough.”
