“It’s an I love you bracelet. Totally different.”
He laughs into a brighter smile. “It’s my favorite gift of yours.”
“Yeah?”
He steals a kiss on my cheek, featherlight but lasting. The heat of his lips rushes down my body. Our fingers hook again, and in his other hand, his thumb brushes over the beads. His eyes soften with a sort of sadness. “I can’t wear it yet, Sul.”
“Oh, I know,” I breathe. “You can hang onto it. Banks is getting his in June for his birthday.” And I’m betting we last that long and longer.
I’m not picturing a world where we end.
“Let me guess again. His bracelet is blue.”
“Correct this time. You’re one for two—” I’m cut off by a sudden voice.
“This way! I think the fountain is over here!” The stranger’s shouts sound like a gunshot in the night.
We jolt away from each other—just in fucking time. Festival attendees slip into our section of the maze.
“Whoops, sorry.” A tall, skinny boy with an orange scarf apologizes quickly, eyes darting from Akara and me like he interrupted an intimate moment. The girl behind him giggles against his back.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” Akara says casually. “If you’re looking for the fountain, it’s three more rights.”
“Thanks,” the boy says before grabbing the girl’s hand and tugging her in that direction.
Akara pushes a hand through his hair, more edged. “Sorry, Sul.”
“No, it’s okay. At least they didn’t shout Kitsulli. Maybe they didn’t recognize me. Or they could just think we were having an intense conversation.”
He nods once, his focused gaze drifting back to where they left.
I think of something. “You memorized this maze, didn’t you? For security.”
A smile plays on his lips. “Is that a problem?”
“No, but I’ll think better next time than to challenge you to a race in a maze that you’ve fucking memorized,” I say. “It’s not a fair start.”
He places two hands on his chest. “I need all the help I can get if it’s a foot race against you.”
“You don’t want to beat me fair and square?” Why am I drifting back towards him? Why can’t I stay away? I stare up at him in challenge, and our hands brush again.
He looks down, longing stretching between us. “Lady Meadows, no one can beat you fair and square.”
My heart thumps again.
Chatter grows stronger at the entrance of the maze. The moment is about to skid to a screeching halt. “Cumbuckets,” I sigh. “There’s no privacy here, is there?”
“We can find a place.” Akara clasps my hand and leads me towards the exit. The way he cups my hand is less romantic and more professional-looking.
Outside the maze, we start to pass the hot chocolate and eggnog huts again.
“Sulli!” Jane carries two hot cocoas with Thatcher out in front as her bodyguard hubby.
“I wondered where you went,” Jane says, her cheeks rosy. “I just saw your sister a little while ago. All the girls were making snow angels near the sledding, and Winona wanted to take pictures with you before it gets late.”
“I’ll go find her in a minute.”
“Here.” She passes me the extra mug of cocoa. “It’s spiked, so beware.”
“Thanks,” I say, grateful for the warmth and more liquid to build that magical barrier.
Behind us, I hear Thatcher say, “Happy Birthday.”
Akara nods in thanks, but the tension is thick between them. They barely look at each other. Jeez, that’s not fucking good. I wince a little. My mom has a lot of theories about friendships, and I’m starting to believe a new one:
When one friendship is healed, another explodes.
“Where’s Banks?” Jane asks me. “I thought you’d probably stick around him too tonight while he’s on Xander’s detail.”
My stomach drops. “Uh, I’m…” I’m on a date with Akara. Will Jane understand? Fucking doubtful. She’ll think I’m not being fair to Banks, when we all agreed to sprinkle in one-on-one dates.
“We’re headed his way,” Akara says, coming in with the save.
“Speaking of Banks,” Thatcher says, more to Akara than us, “I don’t know if he mentioned, but he’ll need a Friday in January off-duty. We’re going to a Flyers game with our dad.”
Akara is as shocked as me. “Banks is spending time with his dad? At a hockey game?”
“He said he’d go,” Thatcher tells us. “It surprised me too, considering the leak and what he’s said to my brother in the past. Banks hasn’t gotten over it.”
Oh no…
Akara doesn’t know what Michael Moretti has fully said, and I’m not at fucking liberty to divulge any of that information. But I think it should come from Banks.
Not Thatcher.
“Thatcher,” I start.
Akara is already talking. “About him being the dispensable one?”
I down most of the hot cocoa in a few gulps, and Jane so sweetly places a full mug in my hand like she knows chocolate is the bomb-dot-fucking-com during intense situations.
Even better spiked.
I wash down a new bout of nerves.