AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“My answer won’t change, Piper.”
I hate how he uses my name. How he makes it sound like he’s turningmedown, not the money-making machine I work for.
And I especially hate the hint of regret in his voice, like part of him wishes he could give me a different answer.
“Then, I’ll keep following you around like a puppy dog until Carl calls me off.”
He snorts at that, then glances at the Ferris wheel.
“Wanna go for a ride?” Kyle tilts his head toward the flashing lights.
I stare at him, the realization of what he’s asking hitting me slowly, like falling rain.
The absurdity of this moment—the two of us standing here in the midst of excited shouts and him suggesting that we ride a Ferris wheel—is more of a sudden shock.
I laugh once. Short and surprised. Waiting for him to take the offer back and follow his friends, turning this back into the group outing I expected it to be.
But he doesn’t move.
He just stands there, staring at me with uncomfortable intensity and making this feel even more like a date.
I break eye contact to glance up at the looming shadow of lights and activity above us. I promised myself I wouldn’t back down on this trip. That I’d do whatever it took to make it a success.
And…I’m very tempted to break that promise.
This is blurring the line. This has nothing to do with music or my job.
I don’t have any means of comparison for this trip. Everything about it is unorthodox, and it’s become more and more confusing, the longer I’ve been here. But the goal is still constant, and it entirely hinges on Kyle. No matter how unlikely it is that he’ll change his mind, it’s not truly over until I’m on a plane back to New York with an unsigned contract.
So, I ignore the little flip in my stomach and how the humidity in the air feels extra oppressive. Remind myself what’s at stake. That I’m not a quitter.
“Sure.”
Kyle starts walking like that’s the answer he expected all along. It quells a little of the nerves coalescing in my stomach, seeing his nonchalance.
But theno big dealchant dies off when we reach the front of the line and I’m suddenly squished into a space that’s way smaller than the cab of Kyle’s truck. I can’t move without brushing up against some part of him. I shift an inch, and our legs connect. Sit back, and my elbow hits his biceps. My eyes stay straight ahead, hoping he’ll attribute my burning cheeks to the heat that lingers in the air even though the sun is rapidly fading.
Gears grind as the chair begins to move, propelling us upward. But we only make it a few feet before we suddenly stop, the suspended seat swaying.
I lean forward and look down, watching a teenage couple climb out of the chair and two women take their place. The entire exchange takes about five minutes. Then, we’re moving again, slowly ascending. Only a few feet. Another change takes place.
My stomach sinks as I realize what I thought was going to be a quick trip around the wheel will likely be a lengthy journey instead.
I steal a glance at Kyle, who’s gazing toward the dark fields that surround the busy, brightly lit fairground.
I rub my palms against the cotton material of my dress in an attempt to clear the sweat from them, searching for something to say.
“You come here a lot?”
I cringe at what comes out sounding like a cheesy pickup line. Then quickly hide any embarrassment from my face as Kyle’s attention swings from the field to me.
He smirks, and it sets off an uncomfortable fluttering sensation in my stomach, which has become way too common around him.
I’ve seen Kyle smile plenty of times before. But it’s rarely aimed at me and contained any genuine amusement. And he’s never beentouchingme while it happened, which is a crucial difference.
“To theannualcarnival? Once a year.”
I nod, refusing to react to the teasing tone of his voice. Refusing to acknowledge how the flutters have been joined by giddiness. I feel like a middle schooler whose crush just passed her a pencil.
