I grin. “You’ll like it. Trust me.”
I can feel more than see Korie narrowing their eyes at me, but there’s no real suspicion in it. Just the opposite. I can sense the trust radiating off them, even buried beneath the playful edge. “If this is another moonlit hike to a super secret cave, I’m leaving you.”
A laugh rips from me, loud and unhindered. “Relax. No hiking involved. I learned my lesson.”
“You sure about that?”
“No, no. I won’t do that again.”
Korie laughs fully, hand braced on their stomach.
There they are.
There’s my Korie.
“Good. Because I don’t want to have to show you that scar again.”
Unexpected heat coils through me when our eyes meet. I raise a brow, surprised they’d bring that up. It’s a four-inch scar on their left inner thigh, dangerously close to their crotch. Bad shoes plus bad lighting makes for some pretty bad wounds, apparently.
I still feel bad about it.
Korie blushes and looks away, but not before licking their lips.
Fuck, the things they’re doing to me…
I follow the road toward the boardwalk until finally, the glow of carnival lights comes into view. It’s not huge—just a dozen rides and a few questionable food stalls—but it’s enough.
I pull into the gravel parking lot and cut the engine.
Korie leans forward, peering out the windshield. “Is that—are you sure about this?”
I shrug, trying for nonchalant and failing spectacularly. “Hot summer night, full moon, a beautiful date… Figured some cotton candy and bad decisions would be a solid way to end it.”
They slowly turn to me, cheeks going a little pink at that word.
Beautiful.
I hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Or maybe I had. Either way, it hangs there between us for a second too long.
Korie clears their throat, but they’re smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” I agree easily. “But you knew that already.”
They huff a quiet laugh, shaking their head as they open the door. “Doesn’t mean I’m prepared for it.”
I hop out and meet them at the front of the car, reaching for their hand again without thinking. This time, they take it immediately.
We walk toward the entrance together, hand in hand, the noise and light swallowing us up as soon as we step onto the boardwalk.
It’s… easy.
God, this feels so easy. So relaxed. Whatever nerves we were feeling moments ago seem to have faded into the distance.
We fall into step like we’ve done this a hundred times before—because we have. Just… not like this. Not with this undercurrent humming between us, not with every brush of skin sending sparks up my arm. Or with Korie’s eyes darting to my lips when they think I won’t notice.
I buy a stack of tickets, ignoring Korie’s half-hearted protests.
“You’re going to regret this,” they warn, eyeing the rides.
