Page 16 of How You See Me (You and Me Duology #2)
Josie
I ’m a coward.
Hayes asked me to do one thing—step outside my norm—the very thing I asked of him, and I chickened out. Classic. If I were him, I’d tell me where to stick my self-growth speeches the next time I attempt one.
While he risks life and limb on the death trap, I keep busy wandering through gift stores. Even from inside the candy shop, I can hear the rollercoaster screeching to a stop.
My stomach twists, hoping he’s still in one gorgeous, broody piece. It would be a tragedy to mess up that masterpiece.
Every time he comes into view, it’s like someone presses a slow-motion button on just him for my viewing pleasure. The same happens with every subtle shift in his emotions—as rare as they may be—and I can’t tear myself away from the show.
Like now, as he steps off the ride with that usual crease between his brows because he doesn’t see me right away. It’s similar to the one from the shower room last night and in line for the coaster earlier. He wears concern like a signature, and it’s fascinatingly beautiful.
I press a chocolate sample to my tongue and watch the scene unfold.
After a few seconds of waiting for me, he rises to his toes and scans the crowd, which is totally unnecessary since he towers over everyone here. He breaks through the knot of tourists, solid and determined, and I lean my weakened body against the shop’s porch to wait.
I hate how my body anticipates his proximity before my brain can process a defense.
I shouldn’t be excited to see him. My heart shouldn’t stammer, and my skin shouldn't tighten in response to the simplest things—like the way his jaw ticks when he spots me standing here, pretending I didn’t break my end of our deal.
He pushes past a dad with a stroller and mutters something apologetic. Along the way, his eyes never divert from mine.
He stops in front of me, too close but not close enough, and I have to resist the urge to step right into that heat.
“Are you okay?” His voice is low, coarse with concern threaded through every syllable .
“I’m fine. I got lost in the fudge aisle.” I try to sound casual, but my heart is thrashing so loud I’m scared he can hear it. “I promise to be better next time.”
A ghost of a smile cracks through the worry. But his eyes still dart over me, checking for damage. Like I’m delicate. Like I’m his.
Great guacamole—I’d love to be. Just for a night or until I remember how to breathe without tasting him in the back of my throat.
I want his hands on me. His lips on my skin.
But he’s taking his surrogate brother role seriously, and that gooey heart of mine could be misreading all the breath-snatching moments. This one included.
“Hayes?”
“Yeah?” His gaze burrows into my soul and lights a fire there.
“How was it?” I ask, instead of anything remotely useful.
I’d wanted to be genuine. Tell him how much his concern means to me. How he challenges me in all the best ways, and how no one has ever made me feel the way he does.
But I chicken out. Again.
“The rollercoaster?”
“Yeah.”
He’s close, making it hard to think or trust my own judgment. He must feel it, too, since he takes a careful step back. Although I didn’t mind, he clearly did .
“I enjoyed it. Though, you were right to back out. It was loopier than it looked from the gate.”
“Are you just saying that to ease my guilt?”
“No.” He grins and it’s too attractive for his own good. “It went upside down at least three times. I lost count after that.”
“You probably passed out from being tossed around like a rag doll.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” He tips his head toward the nearby path. “Ready for your train ride? I’d like to get back on the road before dark.”
“So ready.”
◆◆◆
We claim two empty seats on the park train. Hayes insists I sit by the window like a true gentleman, and my heart swoons even though my brain rolls its eyes.
“I got you something.”
Before he can protest, I thrust a little white box into his hands.
“It’s a memento to help you remember the first stop on your road trip.”
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
He pulls off the lid and digs through the crinkled paper until his fingers land on the ceramic grizzly bear figurine.
His lights up with amusement before tucking it away. “Thank you. That was my favorite ride here.”
“Really? Over the giant steel death trap? ”
“The bears had the best view.”
I snort. “How? It was all trees. The coaster probably gave you a full aerial of the park.”
With a shrug, he sets the box on the seat beside him, the conversation over.
I know I’m slow with things, but it seems he meant something else.
My thoughts rewind to that ride. I picked a bear, and he chose the one behind me, his big, solid body looking like it might crush the poor metal animal.
I kept turning around to laugh and tease him.
Every time, his eyes were already on me.
Oh. Ohhh .
Was I the view?
Is he—was he flirting?
The train whistle blows, and the ride begins. There’s a voice coming through the loudspeaker, explaining the history and sections of the park we pass, but it all fades into white noise. This potential new development has me off kilter.
Stop it . I’m probably manifesting something I have no business exploring.
I’m not a road trip fling kind of girl. And after staying in my soul-crushing relationship with Ryder far longer than I should have for soul-crushing reasons, I won’t be dating for the foreseeable future.
And I doubt if Hayes even wants that. Not that I care if he did.
But I do. I really really—
No. I don’t.
“Are you getting carsick?” he asks, dragging me out of my confusing argument with myself. “I can ask to stop the ride so we can get off.”
“Thank you. I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? You’re flushed.”
That’s because you’re sitting there all serious and broody and perfect —
My hand taps against my cheek, knocking that thought loose. “It’s just the heat.”
The answer seems to satisfy him, and I spend the rest of the ride staring out the open window, pretending it’s the scenery that has me breathless and not the man taking up most the seat and the oxygen.
◆◆◆
“Do you have a destination in mind for our next stop,” I ask Hayes on our way to the parking lot. The silence felt like a thousand itchy mosquito bites, and I desperately wanted the torture to end. “Or will we ride until we get tired tonight?”
“Nashville’s only a few hours from here.”
My hands clasp together, excitement resurging. “Are you wanting more country music fun?”
“I don’t know what I want, but I know it isn’t that.”
“Really? Sounds to me like you want to wear a cowboy hat and go line dancing.” Although, can I handle seeing sexy cowboy Hayes, turning his body loose on a dance floor? Probably not, but I’m willing to test my limits with this one.
“One hundred percent not saying that .”
“Maybe we should see where the night takes us.” I wink, then realize how flirty that sounded. “In Nashville. Not like . . . together. I mean, yes together, but not . . . you know.”
“I got it.”
“Speaking of bedroom activities—”
He stops instantly. “No one mentioned that.”
“Well, I kind of did.”
“No. You kind of implied it. Huge difference.”
“Semantics.” We continue walking, the van now in view. “Anyway, I was going to say the mattress is yours tonight.”
“Nope.”
“Hayes, I refuse to let you do all the sacrificing on this trip.”
He opens the passenger side door and leans against it, hand resting on top, gaze locked on mine. It’s intense. Dark. Daring. And not in the rollercoaster way.
“Guess we’ll have to see where the night takes us.”
My breath catches. No, he didn't. “You can’t use that line after scolding me for it.”
He grins—barely, but it’s there—and my insides go full sparkler.
I climb into the seat, fanning my face once the door shuts. I need a shower. A very cold shower. My hands drop into my lap when he reappears and climbs in.
“Want to stop for dinner or eat when we get there?” he asks.
“We have plenty of snacks to get us by. Let’s get to Nashville and find a good honky-tonk for dinner.”
His hand freezes on the key in the ignition. “Seriously? A honky-tonk?”
“I already told you. Line dancing, cold beer, cowboy hats. Ringing any bells?”
“I’m not doing two of those things.” The engine roars to life like a mic drop.
“You don’t want to stomp around to a twangy tune?”
“Since you got a pass on the rollercoaster, I get one for line dancing.”
“So, you’ll go?”
“If there’s beer . . .”
“Yay!” My heels bang against the floorboard, and I slap his shoulder in celebration. “I might get a real smile out of you tonight.”
I flash the cheesiest smile my face can make to solicit one from him. He doesn’t crack, but that’s okay. I have the feeling a few beers and a steel guitar will do the trick and finally break through that grumpy shield he wears so tightly.