Page 18 of Love at Full Tilt

Vale of Villainy, Fableland

Orlando, FL

OLIVER

Milady, it looks as if you are in need of some saving.

ELORRA

(arches an eyebrow)

You’re the one stuck in a trap.

—Sunspark (00:40:05)

It’s only ten-fifteen when we reach Hellfire.

The restaurant is empty and quiet, except for servers setting up tables and noises coming from the kitchen in the back.

Ten or so contestants are hanging around in the foyer, scrolling through their phones or chatting with each other.

“I’m surprised there aren’t more of us,” I note. Secretly, though, I’m glad I might not be the only one to have made a mistake.

Mason shrugs. “Everyone gets so caught up in the lore, they forget about the food. Plus, this place just opened and it’s super expensive.” Tess has made it a point to express her distaste at the prices of the parks’ food at every meal, so I can’t even imagine what “expensive” must mean.

He starts to stride forward, but I grab his arm to stop him, letting my fingers linger for only a second before pulling back.

Neither of us has said much since he took my hand to get through the crowd.

Even once we’d cleared the worst of it, we held on for another beat before we glanced at each other sheepishly and letgo.

The heat of his touch still sizzles against my skin like the embers of a dying fire.

“They’re closed.”

His eyes drift over me. “I know a guy who works in the kitchen. We can get a Death by Chocolate before they stock the dessert display. Save us some time.”

“Isn’t that cheating, though?” I’m not as scared as Issy is of breaking the rules, but the last thing I need is to get banned from the contest.

Mason shifts so he’s facing me fully. “What do the rules say?”

I shove my hands on my hips. “I don’t know why you’re so convinced I have them memorized or something.”

His head tips to one side, and he waits, calling my bluff.

My resolve lasts for about a minute; then I huff out a frustrated breath. “All I remember is something about being able to find clues only during the parks’ operating hours.” In reality, I could recite the lines word for word, but he doesn’t need to knowthat.

This Fableland fanatic has at least a small amount of dignity.

“The parks are open.” He stands still.

He’s letting me make the decision.

“As long as you don’t think we’ll get kicked out,” I say.

“I think the worst that will happen is the code won’t scan until ten-thirty.”

He’s probably right. Still, I bite my nails as I stare at the kitchen. What if this is a way to weed out cheaters? I don’t want to win so bad that I disqualify myself. And Mason.

I look down at my phone. There’s only like eight minutes until the restaurant opens.

You’d think we were consulting on how to defuse a bomb or rob a bank from how seriously I’m considering this. Yet Mason’s eyes take me in without judgment. He’s statue-still, his handsome face placid. If I’m annoying him, he’s doing a great job of hiding it.

Finally, I sigh. He takes that as his signal to head for the kitchen.

Thank God, because if I had to say it out loud, I’d end up trapped in my thoughts all over again.

Wringing my hands, I bounce on my heels as I watch Mason cross the room. I feel like the lookout on a heist. All I need is some kind of secret whistle and an escape route. It’s suddenly very clear that everything I know about heists I learned from Dudley and Squirt.

The double doors to the kitchen swing open just as Mason reaches them, almost smacking him in the face.

A couple emerges, the girl clutching a plastic bowl that cradles a chocolate bonbon about the size of a baseball.

I recognize her from the carousel yesterday.

She’s the one who was pushing people aside to reach the unicorn first.

Her friend in tow, she breezes by Mason as if she hadn’t been on the verge of concussing him.

She spots me while she’s spooning her first bite of the dessert into her mouth, and her eyes dip to the contestant pin on the hem of my Elorra shirt.

A smirk spreads over her face as she pauses in front of me.

“I told you I’d be first,” she whispers to the guy.

Something sharp and hot zips through me. Grudges aren’t typically my thing, but now this girl feels like my nemesis.

“May you never have replacements when your smoke alarm batteries die in the middle of the night,” I mutter at her back.

I’m not a Fableland villain, I don’t know how to do vengeance, but I really, really want her to lose. At this contest. And at life.

“What’s that?” Mason steps up behind me. In his hand, he’s got the same bowl and chocolate bonbon as the other contestant.

“She’s a jerk.” I nod at the couple as they disappear into the crowd. I quickly recount her nasty attitude.

“So you cursed her batteries?”

“What’s worse than a smoke alarm that won’t stop beeping?”

“Fair.” He hands me the dessert.

“We need to take her down.” I don’t want to lose this contest, but I especially don’t want to lose to her.

Using the spoon, I cut the chocolate bomb in half and press one piece to the side of the bowl, revealing the QR code. Mason and I lock eyes. It’s 10:28. Close enough. Neither of us says anything as we lift our phones at the same time and scan the code.

A new scroll appears in the app, and I click it open.

To solve this clue, you must reach the highest of peaks.

Although most people think Reddingshire Castle is the tallest building in Fableland, it’s actually the mountain that houses Valyrad’s Flight, one of Vale of Villainy’s most death-defying roller coasters.

At the top of the queue, there’s a secret balcony with a statue of Valyrad, his demon wings spread to full span, overlooking the park.

The very tips of his wings are, according to everything I’ve seen online, the actual tallest point in the park.

My eyes find Mason’s. “Valyrad’s Flight,” we say in unison.

Activate Alliance Level Two. No more coy attempts at rivalry or teasing.

Ever since he grabbed my hand on the way to Hellfire, something’s shifted. It feels like we’re a team now for real. As if that small touch we shared was a strand of thread, stitching us firmly together.

At least until the final day.

But I can’t think about that right now.

Mason eats his half of Death by Chocolate like it’s literally his last meal.

Watching his eyes close in delight as he takes the final bite of mousse and cake makes my heart dance. “I’m guessing you’ve never tried one of these before,” I joke.

“They’re thirty bucks a pop if you don’t have a contestantpin.”

I shrug. “It’s okay to have a treat now and then.”

Every time my mom makes it through one of her bad anxiety episodes, we always go out and do something for ourselves.

Get a mani-pedi, Thai from our favorite place an hour away, a new outfit from the little boutique on Water Street that has my size.

Something to remind us that it’s okay to find a little slice of happiness when life is tough.

I want to believe that somewhere in her, Mom is thinking the same thing about my time here, even if it’s too hard for her to voice it.

“Every dollar gets me closer to college,” Mason reminds me.

Swallowing, I drop my gaze to my feet. His drive is somethingI don’t understand. Outside of this place, of my wish to pitch the company a fat princess, I don’t have a dream I’d make endless sacrifices for.

I don’t even know how to want anything besides space from my parents.

A crumpled piece of paper tumbles by our feet in the breeze, and I catch it with my toe. “What do you want to do after college?” I ask, bending to pick the paper up and throw it away.

The main street in Vale of Villainy is this incredible reproduction of the village beneath Pillager’s Peak from the Valyrad film.

It’s reminiscent of London in the 1800s, with Victorian houses stacked one next to another among shops and cafés, the sidewalks speckled with gas lanterns.

Everything is swathed in shades of gray and black, as if the sun has stopped shining here, blotted out by Valyrad’s evil and his wings.

That effect doesn’t need to be spoiled by litter.

A cast member dressed as a newsboy breaks character to thank me, and I shrug, my cheeks burning.

When I turn back to Mason, he’s staring at me like I’m a stranger.

“What?”

“I’ve never seen someone do that before.”

“Pick up trash?”

“Pick up trash here. ”

I shrug again, more as a defense mechanism this time. I don’t know what to make of his consuming stare. “It’s easy to leave places a little better than you found them,” I say. Before he can say anything else, I rush on. “You still haven’t told me. What comes after college?”

He’s quiet for a moment, his knuckles brushing back and forth over the tip of his chin. I’ve noticed he does this a lot, stops to think before he speaks. Like what I’m asking is important enough to consider deeply. “I want to teach.”

“Wow.”

His jaw tightens, and a stoniness settles over him. “I know it’s dumb.”

“Are you kidding? That’s the least dumb thing I’ve ever heard.” My fingers twist into my shirt to keep from grabbing his arm.

His expression softens, the same way it did when I asked why he likes science fiction. It’s as if no one has ever cared enough to learn what’s in his heart.

“I’m betting from those books you carry around that you want to teach science.” It would make sense with his whole vendetta against fantasy—wanting to study how the world actually works.

His cheeks turn red, but he’s smiling. “I’m thinking maybe I could use them to help with difficult concepts.

I sucked at school, but reading those books helped me better understand things.

Maybe…I don’t know”—he shrugs hard like he’s trying to chase away whatever this conversation is making him feel—“maybe I could help other kids who are struggling.”

Something raw and real passes over his face when I say, “I bet you will.”