“Ah, studying’s boring.” Felicity smiles sweetly. “Apparently Easton and I are planning a get-together at the pier. You and Bran should come.”
“That doesn’t sound half bad,” Bran says. He knocks his shoulder against Hartley. “What do you say? Want to ride the Ferris wheel?”
Oh, hell no.
Chapter 17
“This is fun, isn’t it?” Val chirps later in the evening. “We’ve eaten at the pier, but I haven’t been to the ride part in ages.”
“If by ‘fun,’ you mean it’s better than the seventh circle of hell, then yeah, sure, it’s fun.” I glower at the backs of Hartley and Bran, who are at the ticket counter. Bran’s trying to pay for Hartley, and she keeps shaking her head no.
It gives me a tiny amount of satisfaction that Hartley is giving Bran the brushoff over the money thing. If she was interested, she’d let him pay, right? That’s how it works. Girls want you to buy them things. If they don’t accept gifts from you, then they’re not interested.
Hartley wins and pays for herself.
I hustle up to the counter and lay down my card. “I’ve got these two.” I gesture to Ella and Val.
“What about me?” my fake girlfriend squawks.
I spare her a glance over my shoulder. “Your dad owns an auto plant. You can pay your own way.”
“Easton!” Ella says in shock.
“What? It wasn’t my idea to come here.” I take the card and tickets and move on through the turnstile. Maybe Felicity will decide that I’m too much of an asshole to deal with and break up our fake relationship.
I could only be so lucky.
That’s the only reason I agreed to this “date,” though. I plan to talk some sense into Felicity and convince her to leave me the hell alone.
“I expect more out of you, Easton!” Felicity huffs when she joins us inside the park. Her reddish-blonde hair is tied in a long braid down her back, and she’s wearing a beige shift dress and nude three-inch heels that are in no way suitable for a carnival.
“Don’t. That way you won’t be disappointed.”
Her mouth flattens, as it tends to do when she’s pissed off. “We’re going to talk after tonight.”
“Pass.” I’d rather be pummeled for an hour straight by the bouncer at the Salem Street poker game.
“Nice shirt,” Ella says to Hartley when we join her and Bran.
I notice that they’re both wearing the same cropped white sweatshirt with the stripe down each belled-out sleeve. Hartley has hers paired with a pair of skinny jeans that show off her great ass while Ella’s wearing a blue miniskirt.
Hartley grins. “Got it on sale.”
“Me, too.” And, like that, they’re best friends. If I’d known that was all it took, I’d have sported a white crop top a long time ago. I’m not afraid to show off my abs.
“Want something to drink?” I ask the group.
“I’ll have a Diet Coke,” Felicity announces. “And a frozen banana with no chocolate or nuts.”
“So a banana,” I say.
“But frozen.”
I don’t even argue. “Bran?”
“I’ll have whatever. Coke is good.”
He, like me, probably needs a beer, but we’re underage and they’re pretty strict at the pier.
“How about you, Har-Har?”
Felicity scowls at the nickname.
“I’m good.” Hartley shakes her head.
“You sure? I’m not going to offer to pay every day,” I tease. The only reason I made the suggestion in the first place was to have an excuse to buy something for Hartley.
“I’m getting an orange cream float,” Ella pipes up. “Val?”
“Root beer float for me. And funnel cake with strawberries.”
“I wouldn’t mind a funnel cake,” Bran admits.
“Lend me a hand, Bran?” This order has gotten bigger than I anticipated. Besides, I’m not about to leave him alone with Hartley.
“Sure.”
We go up to the concession stand and I order three funnel cakes, a frozen banana—they don’t have any non-chocolate covered ones—and six foot-long corn dogs.
“Are we feeding an army?” Bran jokes.
He might be sweet on Hartley, but he’s not very observant. Hartley was licking her lips when Ella was ordering food. When her tongue darted out, my knees got weak. Sadly, I know that look of hunger wasn’t for me but for food.
“You can never have enough carnival food.”
“True.”
As we wait at the counter, Bran shoves his hands in his pockets and gives me an awkward look. “Be honest, Royal—is it cool that I’m here with Hartley?”
I stiffen. The way he says that, it’s like he thinks they’re on a date or some shit. Are they? They showed up separately, I know that for a fact. Hartley came on the bus, and Bran drove up in his Dodge. But that doesn’t mean much. They could’ve still talked about it being a date sometime between when school ended and we all arrived here.
Does he have her phone number?
Jealousy burns at my insides. He fucking better not.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Somehow I manage to put on the most casual of tones.
He shrugs. “I dunno. You just seem really protective of her.”
“We’re friends. I’m protective of all my friends.”
“Same.” He smiles and invites me to smile with him, but all my humor’s in my shoes at this moment.
“You really interested in Hartley?” Bran seems like a decent guy and he’s the only player on our team who can throw the ball, but that doesn’t mean he should be sniffing around my girl.
“Maybe? She seems like a cool girl.”
“You shouldn’t date anyone your senior year, because that relationship won’t last,” I inform him.
Bran arches an eyebrow. “You write an advice column on the side, Royal?”
It’s hard to hold back a blush, but I manage it. Years of not caring what anyone thinks helps.
“Yeah, it’s called Dear Man Who Knows Better Than Me. I’m here to help you not make a fool of yourself.”
“And you’re saying that pursuing Hartley is going to make a fool out of me?” He looks amused.
“I’m saying she’s not interested.”
“I’ll take my chances.” He grabs a funnel cake. “But thanks for the advice.”
I’ve got no good response, so I keep my mouth shut as we return to the girls. By the time we reach them, the crowd has swelled to more than a dozen—most of them friends of Felicity’s.
“It looks like half the senior class came,” Val observes as I start handing out food.
Felicity pats her hair. “I guess word got out that I’m here.”
I stare at her, wondering if she’s being at all ironic, but apparently no. She’s serious. I glance around to see if anyone else is amused by her delusions, but Ella and Hartley are busy scarfing their food. Felicity’s crew is nodding as if her declaration was delivered by an oracle.
Once we’re done eating, Bran suggests going on rides.
“I love the Ferris wheel,” Hartley admits. “I haven’t ridden on one since I was twelve, I think.”
“Rides are for children,” Felicity interjects. “Why don’t you win something for me?”
“And games aren’t for children?” I counter.
“How about a shooting contest?” Tiffany, one of her friends, suggests. “The guys can win us all prizes.”