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I snatch my bottle of wine from where I’d stuffed it beneath Chase’s tent last night.
???
Tonight is very much the same.
Between acts, Chase and I indulge on the fair rides. The waltzers nearly tear off my lashes, which he finds unnecessarily funny, and I spew in a bin just beside the ride, my head still spinning, Chase rubbing a soothing hand over my back. We scoff candy floss and run back over to the black woman with the flower frame and get a snap of us with our pink tongues hanging out, and the rest of the group finds us and jumps in on the photo. They hang with us for a while, joining us on our second round of Miami Trip, and we take it in turns to ride the rodeo—Cassie stays on the longest and wins a cow hat, even though her inner thighs are already bruising.
They depart to watch the next band, but Chase and I aren’t quite done with the stalls.
We try on sunglasses and pretend we’re on a catwalk—but in the end the stall owner grows exasperated and shoos us off. We purchase aChapter One 2022hoodie with all the acts on the back, and then we get our faces painted again—I go for a cluster of stars, whereas Chase opts for a cucumber.
By the end of the night, I’m a sweaty drunken mess, and as the crowd disperses from the main stage, we sit cross-legged on the grass and stuff burgers into our mouths.
I feel guilty for eating meat, but it’s my cheat day of the month, and it’s sooo good.
‘You’re such a pristine eater,’ I mumble around a mouthful.
He raises his brows, his mouth curving upward as he points to the garlic sauce running down my chin. ‘Andyouare drunk.’
‘Am not,’ I say indignantly, but I tip my head back and laugh, and I tilt to the side. Chase’s steady hand on my arm is the only thing that keeps me from rolling around the field.
‘We should do the silent disco,’ I say, glancing over my shoulder at the marque, the blue and purple lights dazzling through the opening, the sound of people singing without music.
‘Already tried. It’s full. But I put our names down for tomorrow night.’ He wiggles his brows.
I grin around a mouthful of burger—and then I grimace. ‘I feel sick.’
‘Oh dear.’ He polishes off his own burger, rises, and then reaches down to help me stand.
My head swims, and I barely make it to the portaloo.
The silent disco is everything I hoped it’d be. It’s just like having headphones on, and although I can’t hear anything bar the music in my ears, Chase and I look at each other as we sing, the gherkin on his cheek glinting in the lights.
I want this moment to pause. Because I know in a couple hours the night will be over, and then I’ll be going home—to Archer—and the spell of the weekend will fracture, and Chase and I will go back to talking about nothing over the cafeteria table and handing him sandwiches and coffee as he works on my dad’s car. That’s if Archer even wants me to sit at his table after I break up with him.
Maybe he’ll just want to keep things casual.
Which is bearable, because he’s leaving in a few weeks, anyway, and so is…
Chase.
My smile turns tight as I stare at him, because this boy before me… soon he’ll be no more than a memory. A highschool crush. And after the classic car run in a few weeks, I’ll probably never see him again.
Chapter Twenty
Temptations
I’m relieved when I don’t find Archer waiting for me in my drive. I’m not even sure why I think he’d be here, but he has this habit of turning up to places uninvited. I don’t want to deal with him right now. I have no intention of apologising, of straightening things out. What would be the point?
Besides, I’m gasping for a brew. I haven’t had one all weekend.
Chase walks me to my room and steals a not-so-covert glance around it. His gaze lands on the poster of The Maine, and I swear he gulps, but maybe I imagine it, because when he turns to face me and jabs a finger at my stack of unread novels beside my bed, his brows are raised.
‘I’ve never seen you read,’ he says a bit roughly.
I clear my throat, because it’s weird having Chase Maverick in my room, and say, ‘I used to. I haven’t picked up a book in, like, four years.’
He watches me closely. ‘Why’s that?’
