25. June
JUNE
I’m nervous. I’m not sure why. It’s not like it’s a big deal. So, I’m at Harden Night. I’ve been to a few of them before. Some while I was casually seeing Bryan, and others when I wasn’t. So, why am I nervous, again?
“You good?” Violet asks.
My throat feels like it’s being throttled by an anaconda, and I’m a curvy girl who was forced to wear all white, but other than that? Sure. I’m right as rain.
Reading my expression, Violet smiles. “It’ll be fine.”
“Still don’t understand why they made everyone wear white,” I point out.
“If I knew, I’d tell you, but the only hint Jagger would give me is to wear something white and something I wouldn’t mind throwing away. No idea what that means, but here we are.” She pulls the keys from the ignition. “You ladies ready?”
“Hell, yeah, we are,” Lexie announces.
Violet’s eyes thin. “You still sure your brother’s okay with you coming?”
“We’re in Drift territory,” Lexie returns.
“Yeah, but we’re also in Harden territory,” Violet argues. “Maybe not literally, but this is a Harden event, Lex.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she waves off Violet’s valid points like they’re nothing but pesky flies. “Even if that’s the case, he also said he’s working, which means I'm free and clear.”
“You sure?” I prod, backing up Violet’s solid arguments even if Lexie would prefer to pretend they didn’t exist. Someone has to be logical here.
Lexie twists in the passenger seat to look at me. “Yes, Miss Goody Two-Shoes, I’m positive that I’m one hundred percent fine, but I appreciate your concern.” She checks me out. “By the way, you look hot. You have nothing to worry about.”
Says the supermodel.
“Who said I was worrying?” I counter.
“You didn’t have to say a word.” She wiggles her perfectly manicured finger an inch from my nose. “Your face says it all.”
My lips purse, but I don’t bother arguing.
She's right, after all. I am nervous. So sue me. Add in the two gorgeous women I’m surrounded by for the evening, and the countless others I know are waiting inside the carnival grounds, and I feel about as pretty as a potato.
A cute potato—with all the fixings we know and love—but a potato, nonetheless.
Normally, I wouldn’t care. I still shouldn’t.
But the idea of Ford Harden being surrounded by gorgeous women after the way we left things feels…
I don’t know what I feel. My forehead wrinkles, and I shove the thought aside. It doesn’t matter.
Not only is Lexie rocking the all-white theme Jagger instructed us to wear, but she’s showing off her killer abs and perfect rack by tying an oversized t-shirt just beneath her perky boobs.
Add in the ripped white jean shorts and long white trench coat she found at the thrift shop, and the girl’s a walking goddess with a side of biker angel.
Violet tugs out her loose pigtail braids from her oversized white hoodie and reaches for the door handle. “Don’t forget to lock your phone in my car.”
“Oh. Right.” I dig out my cell from my white-washed denim pants and hand it to Violet.
I couldn’t find actual white bottoms, but this felt like a solid backup.
Thankfully, they’re high-waisted, so I didn’t mind when Lexie took scissors to the white, long-sleeved top and sliced it just beneath my boobs, leaving only a sliver of skin to be seen.
I could ask for the logic behind such a silly no-phone rule, but it isn’t Violet’s.
It’s passed down from the Harden Brothers themselves.
Something about preventing others from filming anything that happens during these little…
gatherings. Not sure what they have to hide, but…
okay, that’s a lie. I’m well aware of some of the things they need to hide, and my findings are just the tip of the iceberg.
I can only imagine what goes down behind closed doors, and none of it is squeaky clean or appropriate for the random spectator.
Yeah, okay. Maybe the whole no-phones rule is justified.
I wonder if there’s a cover charge. If there is, we don’t pay it. The security guard simply ushers us past the gate and into the main area after patting us down to confirm we left our phones in the car and didn’t bring in any weapons.
The place is an abandoned amusement park, complete with carnival games, a carousel, a Ferris wheel, and who knows how many buildings scattered throughout.
Some still have their original posters, showcasing carnival snacks, like funnel cakes and churros.
Others are painted in graffiti, hiding whatever the building was originally used for.
I bet it was quite the sight when the place was still running, though.
Now? Now, it’s a little creepy. Black lights hang from long cords across the buildings lining either side of the main walkway.
It leads to a large stage in the center, complete with four large thrones, each surrounded by spotlights of purple hues.
More black lights. Huh. I lift my chin and look around. Whoever set this up went all out.
“Violet!” Jagger calls.
Violet’s grin widens. She rushes toward the familiar man striding toward us, dressed in black from head to toe.
The white and black skull face paint is a stark contrast to the rest of his outfit and makes him look nothing short of demonic.
My curiosity grows as I take in the buildings lining the main walkway once more.
Skeletons are everywhere. Some are similar to Halloween decorations you’d find at any store, but others?
Holy, crap. Did that one just move? I look closer at a mannequin in a dark hood from one of the balconies.
Slowly, he lifts his hand in a wave. My pulse jumps.
Yup. They’re real. Full-blown, living, breathing men are dressed just like Violet’s boyfriend in front of us.
I grab hold of Lexie’s arm, attempting to velcro myself to her side.
It’s official. I’m freaked out.
Jumping into his arms, Violet wraps her legs around his waist and kisses him. It’d be disgusting if they weren’t so adorable together. “Careful,” he warns. “If you mess up Hawke’s hard work, he might kill me.”
My brows dip. What is he talking about? Wait.
He pulls away slightly from Violet and, while balancing her with one arm wrapped firmly around her waist, he reaches up and wipes at the edge of Violet’s mouth, removing the black smudge from their kiss.
He must be talking about the eerie skull face paint.
Hold up. Hawke painted this? Color me impressed.
It's really good. So good, it looks like it was painted by a professional. Huh. I didn’t think he had it in him.
With a final pat on her butt, Jagger sets Violet back down. “You guys just get here?” he asks.
She nods. “Yeah, just walked in. What’s with all the black lights?”
“Ford’s idea,” Jagger answers.
Ford? My nerves spike at the mere mention of him.
I glance around the grounds again, taking in his brainchild.
The decorations. The lights. The outfits.
The face paint. Talk about a huge amount of work.
Honestly, I’m impressed. Before I can stop myself, I realize I’m searching for him, too.
Ford. I shouldn’t be. I know that. But I can’t help it.
Is he here somewhere? Bossing around the volunteers and making sure everything works without a hitch?
How’s his bruise? Is he healing okay? Is he wearing the same face paint as his brother, hiding the damage from the rest of the world?
My teeth dig into my bottom lip as I try to push the reminder of what it looked like from my mind.
“Well, clearly Ford killed it,” Violet decides, dragging me back to the present. She wiggles her finger a few inches from Jagger’s nose. “What about the face paint?”
“Also Ford’s idea.” With a smirk, he grabs her hand still waving in front of him and tangles their fingers together.
“I like it,” she decides. “It reminds me of the last time I was here.”
“Yeah.” Hesitating, he looks around the space, taking in the insane carnival grounds with fresh eyes. “Guess us Hardens are suckers for theatrics,” he notes before turning to Lex. “Why, hello, Lex.”
“Prince Jag Off,” Lexie teases. “Where’s your crown?”
“Left it at home. Where’s your brother?”
“Left him at home,” she volleys.
“Probably for the best.” Genuine pleasure tugs at the edge of Jagger’s full lips. “Glad you made it.”
“Me, too.”
“Surprised,” he adds with an undertone of…I don’t know. I can’t quite place it. Protectiveness? Somberness? Warning?
She sobers ever so slightly. Heck, it’s so subtle, I’m not sure she even realizes it. That she’s shown her hand. “Me, too,” she repeats.
It’s interesting. Watching their interaction.
Zero chemistry. No. It’s nothing but platonic.
Like the love I share with my cousins, no matter how determined she is to hate the Harden Brothers.
It also reminds me of how poorly pegged they are.
And how much Lexie’s relationship with her big brother isn’t flying under the radar, despite her best attempt to keep everyone who cares about her in the dark, including Violet’s boyfriend.
Yeah, Lex. We see you. And we see him. The question is, what can we do about it?
Jagger holds her stare for another beat, then offers me a smile. “Hey, June.”
“Hey, Jagger.”
His brows hitch. “No Fireman Bryan?”
“Fireman Bryan is no more,” Lexie answers for me, not even bothering to dull her giddiness at the news. She uses our hooked arms to tug me closer. “Finally.”
“Oh?” he questions.
“Yup,” Lexie returns.
“He wasn’t that bad,” I mutter.
“No, I’m sure he was a real peach,” she tells me. “Like an adorable and slightly pathetic puppy, but now,” she lands a lip-smacking kiss against my cheek, “I have one of my wingwomen back.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Jagger volleys.
Lexie stomps her foot. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Looking up at her boyfriend, Violet repeats, “Yeah, what’s that supposed to mean?”
Yeah. What is that supposed to mean?