Dominic’s jaw tightened for a fraction of a second, a flicker of raw annoyance crossing his features before he smoothed it out. The polished, PR-ready version of himself took over, that practiced charm sliding over him like a second skin. It was a flawless performance, even if the warmth didn't reach his eyes.
“Just one,” he said, leaning in for a half-second as her phone flashed. “Enjoy the night.”
Before she could even stammer a thank you, he was moving again, pulling me back into the sides of the tents. Once the crowd muffled our voices again, I pressed him.
“Why did my father and Marco have to lie to get me to come here tonight?” I demanded, my voice tight. “What’s the point of all this?”
Dominic kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, his profile sharp against the glow of the event. “Maybe I wanted to impress you.”
“Impress me?” I swept a hand toward the gaudy lights and the row of booths. “You thought throwing a hundred dollars at a rigged game was the way to do that? Do you really think I’m that easily dazzled by a bank statement?”
Dominic angled his chin. He didn't smirk. He didn't give me that lazy, arrogant tilt of the head. He just looked at me, thenlet his gaze drift slowly—pointedly—past my shoulder. He took in the sprawling event, transformed into a high-octane carnival. The air was a thick blend of burnt rubber from the display tires and the cloying sweetness of blue cotton candy. Everywhere I looked, the university’s brick buildings were draped in his team’s sleek banners.
“I wasn’t talking about the game,” he said, his voice level and dangerously quiet.
“What then, the entire event?” I joked, though my voice went up a suspicious octave. I waited for the punchline. I waited for him to tell me it was a mandatory sponsor's thing or a team buyout that he’d simply hijacked for a few hours.
He didn’t say a word. The silence stretching out between us until the weight of it became deafening. He stayed still, almost too still, but his thumb kept moving—dragging a slow circle over the bear’s paw like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. He looked like he was waiting for me to stop being dense.
My heart did a slow, painful roll in my chest. No. No way.
“Try again,” I pushed. “You don’t move unless there’s a podium involved. What’s the real reason?”
He looked down at the bear, then extended it toward me. “This is yours.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m serious. What’s the real reason?”
His attention dropped back to the bear, fingers tightening along the seam. “It’s not a play.” He met my eyes for half a beat before looking away, something unreadable passing through. “Just something I’ve been… circling. An idea.”
He gave a sharp, dismissive shrug—the kind of movement meant to discard a thought before it could be dissected. “But forget it. It’s… this. It was a stupid thought.”
I watched the way his shoulders remained pulled tight, despite his casual tone. He was working hard to look like he didn'tcare, but the erratic pulse thrumming at the base of his throat betrayed the script.
Before I could poke at the lie, he stepped into my path, cutting off my air and my exit. He didn't wait for permission; he simply shoved the teddy bear into my chest. My arms uncoiled instinctively to catch it, the soft fur forcing my hands to curl around the plush midsection. I looked down to see a miniature version of his teamwear stretched over the bear's torso, the name Valerio printed in bold across the back. I was left clutching the bear like a shield, staring up at the hard, unreadable line of his mouth.
“What if it was also an apology?” he asked, his voice dropping until it was barely audible over the distant roar of the tilt-a-whirl.
The words felt like a physical weight. I sucked in a breath that didn’t quite land.Apologize?Who was this person? This wasn't the arrogant driver who had humiliated my father at the TwoFold Gala. This wasn't the guy who had looked at me with that untouchable arrogance on the daily.
He shifted his weight, studying a crack in the sidewalk like it held the answer. “It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, this is something I’ve been considering testing out for a while now.”
Not a big deal?I looked around at the bright lights, the rows of tents and booths, and the sheer scale of the takeover. Most people considered a text or a drink a peace offering; Dominic apparently considered an entire carnival a casual experiment.
“An apology?” I managed, backtracking a bit, the word feeling clumsy.
He didn't double down. He didn't explain. He just made a small, restless gesture with his hand, looking as if he were searching for a way to take the honesty back. The silence between us stretched, thick and alive, until the vulnerability seemed to itch.
He shifted his weight, his posture straightening a fraction as something colder took hold again. The flicker of something human disappeared, replaced by that clean, calculating precision he moved through everything with.
“Double or nothing,” he said, his voice regaining its bite. He jerked his chin toward a booth nearby, where the high-pitched whine of a simulator engine echoed through the air.
He just turned and started toward the game, shoulders loose, like the decision had already been made. It was a getaway—a way to stop the conversation before it got too real. But as I stood there, clutching a bear, I realized for the first time that the Great Dominic Valerio might be just as frazzled as I was.
“New wager,” Dominic said, his voice cutting through the fog in my head. “I win, you have to keep the bear.”
My brain was a static-filled mess. Why was I even still standing here? Why was I letting him pivot from a heavy, suffocating admission of an apology right back into another game?
Maybe I just wasn't ready for the alternative—going home and actually having to process the way this night had taken turn after turn, each one sharper than the last. It felt like I was caught in that game where you try to stack moving blocks on top of one another. Every time I thought I had a stable base, the speed increased and the blocks got smaller, leaving me with a leaning, precarious tower of things that didn't fit. I was just waiting for the inevitable moment the whole mess toppled over.
