Page 11 of The World

“Figment is adragon." Ethan frowned. "At least, I think. And, yes.” He held out his hand, a smile playing around his mouth. “But shake on it. Anything I want?”

I snorted and shook his hand without question. “A car, a plane, a new house. Mykingdomfor a soda.”

But when I went to release my grip, he wouldn’t let me. “Hold my hand,” he said seriously. “That’s what I want.”

My heart sped up and I swallowed hard.Thatwas what he wanted? With that smile and that warm look in his blue eyes, I would have handed him anything asked for. Iwantedto.

“You’re crazy,” I informed him, but he just knocked his shoulder against mine happily and settled my hand more fully in his. I followed where he led.

* * *

“That was disgusting. I can’t believe you let me drink that bitter shit.”

“I don’tmakethe sodas, Tai,” he teased, once we’d left the soda-tasting exhibit. He’d reclaimed my hand the second we walked outside and nearly bounced as we walked toward the World Showcase.

I pulled on his hand to stop him. “Don’t try to tell me that with all your research you didn’t know every flavor of soda in advance.”

“Maaaybe.”

“And still, you held out that little cup of soda for me and said, ‘Here, Tai, this one looks delicious.’You lied to me, Ethan Scott. The fragile bonds of trust between us have been destroyed.”

He pursed his lips. “I figured you’d know aboutBeverly.It’s an Italian aperitif, apparently, and you’ve been to Italy.”

“Not to drink the soda!”

Ethan chuckled. “Have you been here before? To Disney World, I mean?”

I shook my head. “Nah. Family finances were pretty strained when I was a kid. There was barely money for school stuff.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m away on business more than I’m home, as you know. I take care of my parents. Got them a nice house in the suburbs so they could retire.” Not that I’d seen it more than twice over the past couple of years.

“And you’re too cool for theme parks?”

“Too busy,” I said as we weaved through the crowd. The sky was darkening overhead and the breeze picked up, but somehow the humidity had only gotten more oppressive. “Constantlytraveling.” I sighed just a little.

“I still don’t get how you can say it like that, like it’s terrible. I’ve been to Canada three times, Mexico once, and on road trips up and down the East Coast, but never further. I’dkillto go to Italy, even once.” He sounded faintly disapproving, an echo of the first night we’d met. He didn’t get how I could take for granted what he wanted so much.

I didn’t know how to explain, exactly, but I knew I needed to try.

“It’s not about exploring when I do it. It’s about meetings and translators. Trying to remember what time zone I’m in, and where I need to go next. Making sure I have the right travel documents and a basic understanding of how to greet people in the right language. I’m pretty sure I was here in Florida last year. Maybe? But I was in meetings the whole time. I don’t have time todevelopanymore, let alone sightsee. And I let people down,” I told him honestly. “They expect me to call and I don’t. I miss important events, I forget birthdays, I skip out on weddings at the last minute and end up sending a check.”

“You forget how to interact with people who aren’t clients,” Ethan said, and I knew he was thinking about the charity event.

“Maybe, yeah.”

“You know, you still haven’t apologized for bumping me.”

My lips twitched. “Hmm. Interesting.”

Ethan laughed and shook his head. “Ooh! We need to stop at the Argentina booth,” he instructed, as we got to the area of the park that had the food displays. “I need steak with chimichurri.”

I let him drag me to a line outside a little booth where the air was thick with the smell of grilled meat. My stomach growled as he placed our orders, and when he had the small, cardboard containers of food, he led me to a tall table nearby before he resumed our conversation.

“Why don’t you slow down? I mean, I googledParata…”

“Did you?” I looked at him from the corner of my eye and caught him blushing as he took a bite of steak. It was silly how pleased I was that he’d googled me. A million people did it every day, but I didn’t give a shit aboutthem.