Chapter Four - Lucky
CHAPTER FOUR
My skateboard wheels make a chuff, chuff sound as they roll across the polished floor of the concourse.
The three girls we recruited to be my human obstacle are scrunched up like the bottom layer of a cheerleading pyramid a few feet away. Ziven, phone in hand, stands ready to catch my ollie over them on screen.
I throw a thumbs up and give the camera my famous Lucky DeLucca grin, but right as I whip my head back around to focus on my jump, a girl with long, dark hair—completely unaware of what’s about to happen— steps directly into the path of my skateboard.
I don’t have time to swerve or even yell out a warning, though we do lock eyes for half a second before I slam into her.
Instinctually, I wrap my arms around her, and we both go flying.
A loud thwack echoes in my ears as we hit the ground, and for a split second, I'm transported back to that day in March when I had my accident. The air seizes in my chest as I wait for the familiar pain to explode inside my skull. When it doesn’t, I let out a breathy laugh of relief—but then I register the body beneath mine.
My arms are still wrapped around the girl with dark hair, and her face is only a few inches away, our noses nearly touching.
My right forearm is directly behind her head and neck, which kept her from cracking her skull on the hard floor, and my left hand is gripping her waist. I can tell she’s much shorter than me from the way she fits in my arms, and her chocolate brown eyes are wide and staring directly into mine. “Are you okay?”
She blinks once and then twice. “Yeah,” she finally says, though her voice sounds strained. “I think so.”
“I am so sorry, I—” I cut off when I notice her wincing. “You’re hurt.”
“No,” she grimaces. “You’re just really heavy.”
Cursing under my breath, I gently pull my arms free and leap up. “Sorry about that,” I say, reaching down to help her up.
A crowd has formed around us now, and although I can only just make them out from the corner of my eye, I can tell there’s already a handful of cell phones pointing directly at us, recording.
A rush of heat flares through me. I feel the pull of the cameras so strongly that I almost turn to flash them a smile or to say something witty, à la Lucky DeLucca style, to salvage the moment.
But when the girl lets me pull her to her feet, I’m so distracted by the way her hand feels in mine that, for a second, the cameras fade into the background.
"Oh my gosh, Becca!" A short girl with pink hair is instantly at her side. "Are you okay?"
The girl I ran into, Becca apparently, yanks her hand away and takes a quick inventory of herself. "I think so, I’m—”
Her voice trails off, and I wince, realizing why she stopped.
In her other hand is a crumpled coffee cup.
It's dripping coffee, though it looks like most of the brown liquid has already leaked out and onto the floor. It’s then that I feel the rivulets of coffee running down my leg beneath the hem of my shorts.
It’s not a big deal, easy enough to wipe away, but the same can’t be said for Becca, who gasps as she takes in the dirty brown splotches covering her snow white shorts.
The girl with pink hair lets out a little squeal. “Oh no! I’ll go get some napkins," she says, dashing away.
Becca watches her friend go, and when her eyes snap back to me, I know for sure she's not hurt. Just pissed as hell. “I really am sorry,” I blurt out. “I didn’t see you until it was too late and—”
“It’s fine,” she says, cutting me off.
Her eyes are darting back and forth across the crowd, noticing all the phones that are still pointed at us. I can tell she’s trying to brush off the whole incident, but there’s a flash in her eyes that makes me think she’s more upset than she’s willing to let on, at least while people are watching.
“Accidents happen,” she continues, though her words are strained. She eyes the cameras again and shifts from one foot to the other.
“Follow my lead,” I mutter, throwing my arm over her shoulders and flashing the crowd a big smile. “What do you say, guys? I think I owe this girl another coffee.” Laughter follows as I quickly steer Becca away from the scene of the crime and the sea of cell phones.
We walk down the concourse in silence until we’re out of range. “I think it’s safe now,” I say, pulling my arm back. “Look, I’m really sorry about crashing into you like that and for all the cameras. You see, I’m—”
“I know who you are,” Becca says, her tone hollow. She’s not at all impressed with how I maneuvered us away from the crowd.
“You do?”
Becca props a hand on her hip. “You’re Lucky DeLucca. You’re one of the Starlight Challenge finalists.”
“That’s right. And you’re Becca . . .” I trail off, waiting for her to supply her last name.
Instead, she narrows her eyes. “Evans,” she answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Becca Evans.”
Before I can respond, the pink-haired girl hurries over, a wad of napkins in her hand. “Here you go.”
Becca lets out a huff, accepts a few, and starts dabbing at the stain on her pants.
“There, that’s better!” The pink-haired girl says, but even I can tell that there’s no bringing those white pants back to life.
I start to apologize again, but a booming laugh cuts me off, and a hand clamps down onto my shoulder. Ziven is there, grinning wildly. He’s got my skateboard tucked under his arm and his phone held out in front of him, still recording.
"Dude!" He yells, repositioning it in front of us to get a wider angle. "That was awesome! I got the whole thing on video.”
Becca's nostrils flare as she looks up. “Wait . . . so not an accident then?”
"We were just messing around, being stupid," I say, trying to explain. I take my skateboard back from Ziven and point to it. “We're just filming a quick—”
“Oh, okay, so mowing me over with your skateboard was all part of your plan to get a few views, huh?” Becca says calmly, though her big, brown eyes are flashing.
“It wasn’t like that,” I try to explain. “You weren’t supposed—”
“Sure, whatever.” She waves her hand in dismissal. “Just watch where you’re going next time.”
She doesn’t yell the words, but they’re stern.
Heat rushes up my neck. I’m an ass for running into her, I fully admit that, but it was an accident.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ll do just about anything for content, but crashing into something has never been or will ever be part of the equation.
The reminder makes my head tingle, and I fight the urge to run a probing hand over my skull.
“And you,” Becca turns her piercing gaze on Ziven, who is still recording our exchange. “You need to delete that. Right now.” She holds out her hand for the phone, but Ziven only winks and skips out of arm’s reach.
“Seriously?” she deadpans, and she looks between Ziven and me as if she can’t decide which of us to slap first. She steps toward Ziven, and the expression on her face is the same one my older brothers used to wear right before they clobbered me.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say, jumping between them. “Let’s take it down a notch, yeah?” I hold my hand out for the phone. “We’ll delete the footage.”
Ziven grumbles but puts his phone in my palm.
“Thank you,” Becca says, glowering at me. If her eyes were lasers . . . well, let’s just say I’d be evaporated on the spot.
“Look, I’m really sorry about knocking into you,” I try again.
I don’t know what it is about this girl, but I can’t leave with her thinking I’m some kind of insensitive jerk. That’s not me. “We were just having a little fun. No harm no foul right?” I let out a laugh, but it dies quickly when she doesn’t join in.
Becca frowns. “Does this look like no harm to you?” She indicates her pants.
Beside me, Ziven laughs. “Damn, girl. It’s not like you’re bleeding. Why you gotta give my man, Lucky here, such a hard time?”
“Lucky DeLucca?” The pink-haired girl’s eyes are wide. “I knew you looked familiar!” She shoves forward, grinning. “Hi, I’m Iris. I’m one of the other finalists.”
This catches me off-guard, but I’m quick to shake it off. “Oh, hey. Nice to meet you. This is Ziven Grant. He’s also a finalist.” Ziven reaches over and shakes her hand.
“Right!” Iris chitters. “I’ve seen both your videos before.”
I look to Becca who is watching this exchange with an unreadable expression. Her face has lost some of its flush, but I have no idea what that expression means. She’s not saying anything, but yet she is. With her eyes, I mean. I just can’t read them.
“Becca’s a finalist, too,” Iris says, and suddenly Becca’s annoyance from earlier makes sense.
I probably should have paid more attention to who the other finalists were—if I had, I might have recognized her—but I didn’t even know if I was going to be able to compete until a few hours ago. The details didn’t seem important until now.
“There you are!” A short, balding guy in a Starlight Agency polo appears out of nowhere beside us. He braces his hands on his knees, chest heaving.
“I found them,” he spits into the headset he’s wearing. “We need you to report to the stage immediately,” he wheezes, a sheen of sweat dotting his forehead. “The opening ceremony is starting in five minutes.”
We all react. Iris yelps, and Ziven swears. A quick glance of my watch confirms that if we don’t get moving, we’ll miss the live finalist announcement—not a great way to start off the competition.
“Let’s go,” Iris squeaks, heading in the direction the little man is pointing.
“Wait,” Becca says, her eyes wide. “I can’t go out there like this. I need to change.”
“No time for that now, Miss Evans.” The Starlight exec points again in the direction of the stage. “If we’re not there in the next few minutes, I’m afraid you’ll miss the announcement.”
She looks like she wants to argue, but instead, she lets out a huff and follows after Iris.