by Maggie Way
“Funny. I remember a time when you admired my adventurous spirit.”
They slowly but steadily moved forward in line, winding up the ramp and toward the interior of the building where the ride was housed. All around them people joked and talked, but all Zoey could think about was how much she wanted to hit Mitch.
That or kiss him.
She stepped inside the building, and Mitch followed close behind. Giggling passengers in boats wound toward the loading and unloading area. The air inside the building was cool and smelled of chlorine and humidity. A few feet away, on the other side of the water, an animatronic parrot squawked.
“Be straight—are you here to check up on me?” Zoey pointed to the laughing party guests, who seemed oblivious to the conversation going on between Mitch and Zoey. “In case you can’t tell, I have everything under control. They’re having a fantastic time.”
“I’m not here to check up on you.” But his voice was a little too high to be natural, his words too rushed.
“I’m not an idiot.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Zoey still remembered the way the close-cut curls had felt under her hands, coarse but somehow soft at the same time. How had they gone from flirty friends to this?
“I really did have a fight with my sister. She’s here with her friends, and we left on pretty bad terms. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep unless I apologized, and she wouldn’t pick up her phone.”
“Let me guess—you tried to control her life, and she didn’t like it.”
Mitch’s eyes clouded, and Zoey felt a momentary pang of guilt. “She dropped out of UCLA,” he said finally. “I can’t let her throw her future away.”
Some of Zoey’s anger evaporated. She didn’t know a lot of details about Mitch’s past, but she did know that money had always been tight. “I’m sorry.” She actually meant the words this time. “I know how important education is to you.”
“She didn’t even talk to me about her decision. I went over to her apartment a few hours ago, after I found out, and it didn’t go well. But fashion isn’t a viable career option—it’s a hobby.”
Zoey thought of her own plans. Was she really going to quit Toujour and pursue a career doing makeup professionally? Sure, she kept busy in the evenings and on weekends doing makeup for weddings—she certainly had the connections after a few years at Toujour—and her YouTube channel was starting to actually generate revenue. But she had no doubt Mitch would find it as ridiculous as fashion. “If it isn’t a viable career choice, then who designed the suit you’re wearing?”
Mitch sighed and gave her a look that said you’re being ridiculous. “You know what I mean.”
“No, actually, I don’t.”
The ride attendant directed them to a boat. They moved forward, each taking a place on a numbered tile. Zoey took a spot behind Brooke.
“Oh, I think this row will be too crowded,” Brooke said. “You and Mitch go on the one behind us.”
Zoey opened her mouth to protest, but the next boat pulled up and everyone started loading. She shot Brooke a glare. Whatever Brooke thought she was doing, it wouldn’t work.
Mitch stepped gingerly into the boat, and Zoey followed behind. He cleared his throat, and the ride attendant raised an eyebrow.
“Excuse me.” Mitch motioned to the wet seat. “Do you have a towel to dry this off?”
“Oh my gosh.” Zoey yanked Mitch into the seat. “It’s a water ride—you’re going to get wet.”
The attendant smirked, and the boat lurched forward. It wove its way toward the chirping crickets, flashing fireflies, and old man on a rocking chair on his front porch.
“It seems like a poor ride choice for women dressed so nicely,” Mitch hissed. “My butt is wet.”
“It’s water, not ink—it’ll dry just fine. We’re here to have fun.” Zoey lowered her voice so Brooke couldn’t make out the words. “If Jasmine is passionate about fashion, that’s what she should do. College isn’t for everybody, and it isn’t a guarantee for success or failure.”
“It’s a lot more of a guarantee than chasing some ridiculous career. She might as well try to become a rock star. The chances of becoming a fashion designer are about the same.”
Zoey bit the inside of her cheek, struggling to keep back the word vomit.
It didn’t work.
“You think if anyone doesn’t fit into your cookie-cutter mold of what life should be like, they’re doomed to failure. But Jasmine is a creative soul. She’ll never be happy in a classroom.”
“You’re creative, and you graduated college.”
“By the skin of my teeth. I hated every second I spent in the classroom. I only stuck it out because I loved campus life.” And because she loved rooming with Brooke.
“Life isn’t all about fun.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
“Fun doesn’t pay the bills.”
“It can.” Zoey turned, angling her body on the bench so she could see Mitch better. In the dark lighting, his facial features were almost impossible to distinguish. “Life’s too short to do something you hate.” Even if it made your best friend happy.
She really had to tell Brooke she wanted to quit.
Lights from the restaurant inside the ride flickered, casting shadows over the boat. Something glinted in the boat behind them, and someone in that boat grumbled. Zoey turned around. A photographer near the middle of the boat lowered a camera.
Zoey blinked, her mind refusing to process what she saw. The photographer’s eyes seemed to lock onto hers.
Mitch tapped Zoey on the shoulder. “You better turn around. The drop is coming up.”
Zoey turned. The talking pirate head on the archway above them laughed, and then the boat careened down the incline. The bridal shower guests laughed, screaming playfully at the descent. Mitch’s shoulder brushed against hers. A few droplets of water splashed onto Zoey’s skirt. Her stomach was somewhere in the vicinity of her throat. But not because of the ride.
Alan was in the boat behind them.
Chapter Five
Dimly lit rides and Zoey were a dangerous combination. Their little boat approached the skeletal sea captain battling the elements as Mitch fought the urge to wrap an arm around Zoey’s shoulders. Why had he complained about sitting on a wet seat? It was a small price to pay for a few minutes in the dark with Zoey, especially when she wore that dress.
He’d half-hoped to run into her tonight, but the dress was a surprising—and welcome—bonus. He could still remember the way the fabric glided along his skin as he wrapped his hands around her waist.
She drove him absolutely crazy. So why did he gravitate toward her, like a moth to a flame? Because that’s exactly what Zoey was—a flame that would ignite him until he burned into a pile of ash and blew away.
He folded his arms, determined to keep them to himself. Yes, the dark lighting was perfect for stealing a kiss. The excited energy emanating from the ride made him want to do something reckless and, for lack of a better word, fun. That dress made it hard to think clearly.
But no. Zoey was nothing but trouble. Her reaction to Jasmine’s career plans solidified his opinion of Zoey as flighty and irresponsible.
The boat made its way toward the mock battle. Cannon fire boomed and water splashed. Zoey’s body angled toward his on the bench, their knees nearly touching. She looked adorable in her coral tiara, with purple and green glitter flickering in the muted lights. Innocent, yet seductive at the same time.
Just like she had that night.
Her eyes flickered to the boat behind them. That was the third time now. Mitch turned around, following her line of sight.
Her hand landed on his knee and squeezed. Heat spread through his body, a slow burn that would drive him mad.
“Don’t turn around,” she hissed.
Mitch froze, their knees just brushing in the tight confines of the bench. “Why not?” Mitch whispered, matching his tone to hers.
&nb
sp; “It’s rude.”
Mitch rolled his eyes and spun around. What was Zoey up to?
“He’ll recognize your face,” Zoey said.
The boat was only a length behind theirs. Mitch scanned the passengers, not sure who had caught her attention. A man sat in the middle row, a little apart from the couple he shared it with. Light reflected off the lens of the camera hanging around his neck. His hair and clothing were dark, and it was hard to make out any distinguishing features in the dim light. But something about the set of his jaw and profile seemed familiar.
“Do you know that guy?” Mitch asked.
Zoey closed her eyes and breathed deeply, a sign of patience he recognized from when they had been friends. Her eyelids sparkled with purple glittery makeup in the dim light of the ride. A pirate chased a woman through a building as the boat meandered through the town, and the sound of gunshots was just audible.
“He’s an old boyfriend you’re avoiding,” Mitch guessed.
“Not exactly.”
Oh, so maybe he was just another man she had kissed and ditched. Or one of her many admirers, but this time an unwelcome one. Or—
Light illuminated the man’s face for the briefest of moments, highlighting the silver in his hair, and that’s when it clicked. Alan. The man who’d asked Zoey out at the charity event on Tuesday.
“What is he doing here?” Mitch asked.
“I don’t have to answer your questions.”
“Did you invite him?”
“Of course not.” Her nose crinkled in disgust at the suggestion. “It’s probably just a coincidence.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure the professional-grade camera is, too.”
Zoey pulled her hand from his knee and let out an angry sigh. “Lots of people bring cameras to Disneyland.”
“Usually they’re of the cell phone variety.”
“Maybe photography is a hobby. I don’t know him that well.”
Mitch ran a hand through his hair, his muscles tense with nerves. “He’s a reporter, just like I warned you.”
“You don’t know that.” But her voice was tight, her arms folded—sure signs of defensiveness.
“Did you tell him you’d be at Disneyland tonight?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t tell him it was for Brooke’s bridal shower. You’re the only one who mentioned that at the party.”
“He was across the room at the bar. There’s no way he could’ve overheard.”
“Oh, but I tell him I’m going to Disneyland for a girl’s night, and he infers it’s wedding related and shows up to spy?”
“Yes! How could you let this happen?” The accusation came out harsher than he intended, but a day of stressful news had him at the end of his rope. Alan had to be paparazzi. He’d sweet-talked information out of Zoey and followed a hunch. The sashes were a dead giveaway that tonight was wedding-related.
Tomorrow—when the photos of the ridiculously-over-the-top bridal shower were front page tabloid news—it wouldn’t matter that Zoey had led the lion into the herd of sheep. Mitch would be the one to clean up the mess.
“It’s not like I specifically sought out someone who would ruin tonight.” Each word was a razor blade slicing through Mitch. “I wanted tonight to go well too, you know.”
“You’re too trusting.” Mitch couldn’t keep the accusation from his voice.
“Right,” she said, the word full of sarcasm. “Because the only possible reason someone could want to date me is to get wedding coverage of Brooke and Luke.”
The problem with Zoey was that too many men wanted to date her, for too many reasons. Mitch glanced over his shoulder. Alan didn’t seem to have noticed them—he was taking a photo of a pirate, the flash on his camera turned off in compliance with the ride rules. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Either I’m a crappy friend trying to ruin the bridal shower, or I’m a gullible idiot being used to get to Brooke and Luke. Take your pick.”
She might as well have asked him which side of the sword he wanted to be sliced with. The boat bumped to a stop at the bottom of the incline. Captain Jack Sparrow sung about the benefits of being a pirate. The bridal shower guests chatted and laughed. Mitch had to admit Zoey was right about at least one thing—everyone was enjoying themselves. The shower was unorthodox, but it seemed to be a hit with the guests.
Too bad Zoey’s reporter boyfriend was going to ruin everything.
Mitch glanced over his shoulder again. This time, Alan’s camera was aimed right at their boat. He quickly adjusted the angle, pretending to take a photo of Jack and all his loot. But Mitch wasn’t fooled. Alan was trying to not blow his cover, and he thought Mitch and Zoey still hadn’t noticed him.
The boat caught on the conveyor belt and slowly rose to ground level, landing with a gentle splash. Water sloshed over the side of the boat, and Mitch pressed closer to the middle of the boat, and Zoey. He breathed deeply, enjoying the smell of coconut that always surrounded her.
“We can still salvage this,” Zoey said. “I just have to distract him. Cause a scene.”
“I don’t think he even knows—”
Zoey leaned forward and tapped Brooke on the shoulder. The two had a quick, whispered conversation. Brooke’s eyes flicked to Alan and hardened in anger. She nodded, then leaned forward and whispered to the other members of the group.
Alan’s camera was out and clicking away. It seemed he knew they were onto him and was determined to get as many shots as possible while he could. With the evening light spilling in from the front doors, illuminating their boat perfectly, they’d probably be really good shots.
Why hadn’t Zoey listened to Mitch on Tuesday?
“What are you planning?” he asked Zoey.
“Just play along,” Zoey said.
She might as well ask him to go skydiving. “Play along is not a plan. I don’t do improv.”
“You’re going to have to, if we want to keep him from selling those photos to every tabloid in the country.”
The boat pulled to a stop. The other girls quickly disembarked, walking at a fast pace toward the exit. Zoey got out more slowly, allowing the women to pull ahead. Behind them, Mitch heard the rapid click of a camera shutter.
“We need to help the others disappear,” Mitch said. “I’ll find a cast member and explain the situation.”
“There’s not enough time. I need to create a diversion so they can get away.”
The women pushed through the rope gate just ahead of them, increasing the distance. Mitch grabbed Zoey’s hand and pulled her forward. He needed to get Brooke somewhere camera-free. Zoey leaned back, slowing their pace.
“Your diversions tend to become headline news,” he said. Her hand was soft and cool in his. Did nothing stress her out? “Or have you forgotten about the ice cream incident at the zoo?”
“Well, it worked, didn’t it? The story was about me instead of Brooke and Luke.”
Alan’s boat jerked toward the loading area as the distance between Mitch and Zoey and the rest of the bridal party grew.
The boat was still three feet from the dock when Alan leapt out.
“Sir!” the ride attendant exclaimed.
“Go!” Zoey shouted at the women. Brooke glanced back, then started running.
The camera clicks sped up. Zoey let go of Mitch’s hand and lengthened her stride. They burst out of the building and into the dimly lit alley. The narrow path was crowded with tourists in flashing Mickey ears and vintage attire, holding Dole Whips and bags of souvenirs. Mitch could just see the tops of tiaras as the bridal party sprinted toward the ever-crowded area in front of Indiana Jones.
“Why aren’t we following them?” Mitch demanded.
“I’m making sure they get away.”
Alan burst onto the path behind them, the camera raised to his eye. Zoey whirled, planting herself right in front of him. “Why are you following me?” she demanded, her voice louder than it needed to be.
Mitch thought a much better questi
on was Zoey, why are you confronting the crazy reporter? But at least Brooke and the rest of the women had disappeared into the crowd.
Alan froze, his eyes flickering back and forth between Mitch and Zoey. “Surprise,” he said, his voice cracking on the word. He leaned forward as though to give her a hug, but Zoey held up a hand.
“We haven’t even been on a date. Following me here is grade-A creepy.”
Alan swallowed, and Mitch had to admire Zoey’s forthrightness. It was knocking Alan off his game.
“I...ended up coming here for work last minute,” Alan said. “I didn’t think I’d run into you.”
Zoey planted her hands on her hips. “You mean your work as a reporter?”
Alan furrowed his brows in a pathetic attempt to seem confused. “What are you talking about?”
“What paper do you work for?” Mitch demanded. “How much are they paying you to do a story on Brooke’s bridal shower?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Alan said. “I’m just trying to pay the bills, like everyone else in the world.”
Zoey let out a laugh. “You disgust me.” Then she raised her voice again, and Mitch finally knew what Zoey was doing—causing a scene. “I never would’ve agreed to a date if I’d known you were a crazy stalker.”
Someone gasped, and a few people stopped to watch, creating a bottleneck that only attracted more tourists. A trickle of perspiration trailed between Mitch’s shoulder blades when someone pulled out a cell phone and snapped a picture.
Alan dropped the camera so it hung from the strap around his neck and ran a hand through his hair. “I really need to go. I didn’t come to interrupt your girls’ night.”
“Kick him to the curb, honey!” someone yelled from the crowd.
Zoey grabbed Mitch, yanking him to her. He stumbled, placing a hand on Zoey’s waist to steady himself.
“What kind of a man takes advantage of a girl fighting with her boyfriend?” Zoey said. “I won’t let you come between me and Mitch.”
Zoey’s hand rested on his chest, making it hard to think. Was he supposed to play the boyfriend in this little charade of hers? He did so much better with a script.
