Avalon
I still had her hand in mine.
Holy shit.
I was holding hands with Clarke King—and I liked it. What I didn’t like was how much I liked it, because this was absolutely not part of the plan. Hand-holding had not been on the list of acceptable investigative techniques. And yet here I was, dreading the moment she’d notice and pull away.
We jogged behind our team, following Joel—an old acquaintance of Aunt Brie’s and tonight’s self-appointed captain—down a back alley. He insisted we needed distance from the other team to strategize. I tuned him out. I knew Mayfair like the back of my hand; I didn’t need a strategy.
I tugged Clarke’s hand. “Come on. Follow me.”
Her eyes dropped to our joined hands, widening—but she didn’t let go.
“Shouldn’t we stay with the group?” she whispered. “I don’t want to get lost.” “I won’t let you.”
That was all it took. She followed.
We slipped down the alley we’d come from, her laughter echoing behind me. “Where are you taking me now?” she asked, squeezing my hand.
“Don’t you ever get tired of asking questions?” I teased. “Just let the moment be. It’s more fun that way.”
She nodded, breathless and bright. “Okay. No more questions.”
I slowed as we reached the corner. Across the dim street, under a flickering traffic light, sat the old photo booth—pale pink on the bottom, cold gray on top, a mismatched shower curtain hanging where the original had torn years ago.
I pushed the curtain aside and sat on the worn loveseat. Clarke followed without hesitation, her thigh brushing mine.
“This is so cute,” she murmured, tracing the graffiti signatures on the walls. “Do you have a pen?”
I patted my jacket dramatically. “Oh, sure. I always keep one on me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You could’ve just said no.”
Before I could reply, she spotted a quarter on the floor and squealed, releasing my hand to grab it. The absence of her warmth hit me harder than I expected.
“What are you doing? You don’t know where those have been.”
She shrugged and held up a dollar’s worth of change. “Thought we might take a picture. You know—commemorate my losing my Mayfair virginity.”
I laughed. “It’ll take you all night to find five dollars in coins.”
I slipped off my jacket, reached into the left side of my bra, and pulled out a crumpled bill. “Ah-ha!” I waved it triumphantly. “Don’t worry—you can keep a quarter as a souvenir. Look, this one has a guitar. Fate, right?”
She smiled, tucking it into her pocket. “I’ll remember it always.”
My cheeks warmed. “Okay, let’s take these pictures.”
But before I could feed the bill into the machine, Clarke touched my arm.
“Wait. I want to ask you something.”
I leaned back, curious. “Shoot.”
She looked down at her hands, choosing her words carefully. “Why did you want to hang out? We’ve been at different panels all weekend. We have nothing in common.” “I think we have more in common than you think.”
Her brows lifted. “Why do you say that?”
“You agreed to come out with me. You like excitement. You like the thrill. I saw the way you smiled when we ran down the alley—you looked alive.”
She snorted. “Are you saying I looked dead every other time you’ve seen me?” I laughed. “No. You’ve looked beautiful. But tonight… you stepped out of the box you’ve been in.”
“You think I’m in a box?”
“We all are. A box, a cage, a mansion, a stage.”
She bumped my shoulder. “That’s a song lyric.”
I smiled. She smiled back. And for a moment, the booth felt too small for everything happening between us.
“You really think so?” she asked softly.
Before I could answer, she started humming—my song. My heart stuttered. “You make it look so easy,” I muttered. “I wish I could write my own music.” “That’s okay,” she said gently. “Loads of artists don’t. And I could help you. Tonight, even.” “You’d do that for me?”
She shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I wouldn’t have slept anyway.” Her perfume—sweet like apple pie—wrapped around me. “You know you want to, Avalon. We can order in.”
“Well, I can never say no to food.” I grinned. “But first—the picture.”