I belt out a laugh. “Oh, I see.”
They grin over at me. “You said I couldn’t win.”
“I said it was rigged,” I correct, not caring that the attendant is right there.
“Same thing.”
They sit down in front of the squirt gun, aiming at the tiny moving target. I grin, folding my arms. This is going to be fun.
The game starts, and within seconds, Korie is locked in, tracking the target with a precision that’s almost unfair, even when it gains speed.
Because of course they do.
A loud chime echoes around us as Korie’s target reaches the opposite end, and the attendant barely looks surprised as he hands over a prize—a giant pink and purple stuffed panda.
Korie turns, holding it out to me with a satisfied little smile. “For you.”
I stare at it, then at them. “You just hustled a carnival game for me.”
“Never doubt what I’ll do for those I care about.”
I laugh.
Korie steps closer, their voice soft. “Now, we can go home.”
My stomach swoops.
It isn’t a suggestion. It’s an invitation.
I swallow hard, my grip tightening slightly on the stuffed panda. “Yeah?”
Korie closes the space between us, their arms sliding around my waist.
“Take me home, Holden, before I can overthink this.”
Everything in me goes very, very still, and then my heart kicks back into motion, fast and unsteady.
Before I can overthink this.Why does that sound like a warning?
We both know what this is, what it could be. Are they really saying they want that? Do I? We’ve not only stepped off a ledge tonight, but we’ve basically nosedived into new territory. Should we really go there too?
Korie kisses me. “Please?”
“Okay,” I manage, my voice rougher than I expect. “Yeah. I can do that.”
15
KORIE
As we drive back to the apartment, my heart is racing so hard it feels like it’s trying to crawl out of my chest. My palms are slick and every nerve in my body is lit up with something that feels like a mix of anticipation and panic.
Is this really happening?
My stomach flips, and I glance at Holden. He’s gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly, eyes focused ahead. When he sees me watching, he takes my hand.
I grimace at how sweaty my palm is, but don’t pull away. I need the connection.
Holden pulls our joined hands closer to him, saying nothing—not a single word as he stares out the front window. And somehow that makes it worse—better? Bigger. Definitely bigger. Like he knows there’s a full-on war happening inside my head and he’s choosing not to interrupt it.
