Chapter 9 Cupid Cam
CUPID CAM
Addie
Phoenix’s mysterious directive had played on a loop in her head ever since he asked her if she was free for their first official public FAMA appearance, and he wouldn’t tell her what he had planned. The only clue he’d given?
Wear your team pride.
Addie stared at the items laid out on her bed and groaned at the impossibility. Not owning Yankees merch wasn’t the issue, but choosing select items from her extensive collection, which rivaled Bailey’s ring assortment, definitely was.
T-shirts in different sizes, colors, and cuts. Long-sleeve shirts. Hoodies. Beanies. Even undies, a prank gift that turned out to be the most comfortable she owned. Any serious fan also had gear specifically designated for both in-person stadium games, and couch-watching.
Not knowing Phoenix’s plans made choosing unbearable.
Whether Bronx-bound or hitting a local sports bar, Addie hoped Phoenix had prepared himself for meeting her father’s daughter. In the Whitlock house, little was taken as seriously as family, food, and Yankees baseball.
Addie cursed at the time and pulled on her favorite soft, curve-hugging jeans before closing her eyes and choosing a shirt at random.
She picked one of her favorites, the short-sleeved tee with a frayed, deep V-neck plunge that framed her cleavage perfectly.
And with a minute to spare, she tugged her baseball cap into position and grabbed her crossbody bag before heading out the door.
Butterflies attacked her stomach as she rode the elevator to the ground floor. First dates and her didn’t mix. To be more accurate, Addie and dating of any kind didn’t mesh well. There was no reason to think fake dating would be any different.
Hayden had only been the latest ex who suffered from a case of Oily Zipper Syndrome.
Before him, there’d been Romeo—the name should have warned her instantly.
Then Colton. Mateo. Sam. Et al.
They’d all ended for various reasons, but one thing in common was that they’d ended with fanfare. But it was after Hayden that she vowed never again, and not because he’d broken her heart when she found him balls deep in someone he’d claimed was “only a coworker.”
Never again would she waste time, energy, and thoughts on someone who didn’t understand that sometimes after a long workday, a girl just needed to climb into her pj’s and binge-watch crime dramas with her three-headed dog, not club-hop all over the city until her feet barked.
And here she was about to break her no-first-dates rule—again.
She glanced in the reflective wall and second-guessed her pigtail braids, but Phoenix had said team pride, and one game day tradition she never broke was braided piggies.
The elevator opened into the lobby, and Addie spotted Phoenix instantly. Holding two travel coffee mugs, he leaned against the far wall, a baseball cap covering his wavy locks. He glanced up when she approached, eyes damn near twinkling as his twitching grin turned into a full-blown laugh.
Addie froze, mouth agape as she grappled with the sight in front of her. “No fucking way.”
“And here I thought you were certifiably perfect. I knew you had to have a flaw. Looks like I found it,” Phoenix teased.
Arms folded over her chest, she drilled Phoenix Cross with a narrow-eyed glare. “My flaw? Oh, I don’t think so, buddy. The shortcoming is entirely on your end. The Mets? Seriously?”
“A Cross may joke about a lot of things, love, but baseball isn’t one of them.” He pushed off the wall and slowly closed the distance, his lips a bit higher on his dimpled side.
Addie visually drank him in as if she’d just finished a hot yoga class in the Sahara.
Faded light-blue denim jeans hung off his trim waist, and his signature leather jacket hung open to reveal a gray Mets T-shirt.
The baseball cap—which he wore backward and which threatened the vitality of her ovaries—no doubt also supported his preferred team.
Addie subtly checked for drool, happy when her hand came back dry.
“I should probably keep this second coffee for myself.” Phoenix’s boots bumped hers as he stopped right in front of her.
She lifted her eyebrows. “And I should probably cancel this date. I don’t think being seen with an outright Mets fan will do anything to boost my public image. Not to mention that if my father ever found out, I may be disowned.”
“Ditto.” With a chuckle, he held out the second mug. “Eh, what the hell. I love living dangerously. I am Naughty Nix, after all.”
She accepted the coffee with a small snort. “So now that we each know the other’s most shameful secret, what are these plans?”
“I’m so glad you asked.” Phoenix draped his arm over her shoulder and steered them toward the front door. “How do you feel about funnel cakes, Ferris wheels, and rigged carnival games?”
“I feel like that could be a trick question,” Addie answered carefully.
It wasn’t. An hour and a packed subway ride later, they stood outside Coney Island’s Luna Park, the rides already motoring and people milling about the walkways.
She caught Phoenix watching her carefully, wearing a look that almost looked nervous. “Coney Island, huh?”
He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and smirked coyly. “This is Wave One of Date Day. Unless you completely hate the idea, in which case, give me a few minutes with my phone and I’ll figure something else out.”
She fought against a grin and lost. “How many waves are in this Date Day?”
“Two. Maybe three. We’ll see where the day leads us.” He glanced toward the rotating Ferris wheel. “So yea or nay?”
She instinctively reached out and squeezed his hand. The only one more surprised by the contact than her, was Phoenix. They both glanced down at their hands, where a soothing warmth traveled up her arm.
“I actually love Coney Island,” Addie admitted. “And I haven’t come here in years.”
“Yeah?” Phoenix’s eyes snapped up while his fingers slowly threaded with hers.
“This is a great Wave One, Phoenix.” Her cheeks heated. “So what’s first on the agenda? Rides, games, or food?”
His grin stretched. “Fried fucking Oreos.”
His hand anchored to hers, he led them directly to the Better Fried food stand, leaving Addie to believe that it definitely hadn’t been years since his last Coney Island visit.
“Is fried food the best decision before rides?” Addie teased as he paid the attendant and eagerly accepted the paper dish of fried gooeyness. “And first thing in the morning?”
“There is never a wrong time for fried Oreos.” He held one out to her and waited patiently for her to accept it. “Breakfast of fucking champions.”
She took a tentative bite and instantly moaned at the burst of flavor that danced on her tongue. A quick glance at Phoenix’s darkening gaze and Addie covered her mouth while she finished the rest of the cookie. “Sorry … that was just unexpectedly delicious.”
“So was that little moan.” Phoenix grinned wickedly.
Addie should’ve worn her industrial-strength Yankees panties, if for no other reason than to give her the mental fortitude not to let Phoenix Cross’s naughty thoughts conjure her own.
They walked along the boardwalk and formed a game plan as they snacked on the fried cookies.
Phoenix being a game guy didn’t come as a surprise, but what did was his avoidance of the carousel.
Going from destination to destination, he guided them the long way around to avoid walking past it, and while on top of the Ferris wheel, didn’t glance even once in its direction.
Finally, Addie asked, “Do you have something against the carousel?”
Phoenix, his arm draped behind Addie’s shoulder, broke into a nervous chuckle.
“You could say that. A school field trip back in the day turned us into mortal enemies. I can do literally anything else. The Zipper that continuously flips you upside down over and over? All good. Coasters that require signed liability waivers? Cool. But the carousel?” He shivered in revulsion.
“Nope. Not if I was an adrenaline junkie and it was the only ride open.”
“That must have been some childhood trauma.”
“You have no idea, and considering we just ate fried Oreos, we probably shouldn’t relive it now. Especially if you have a sensitive stomach.”
She grimaced, already imagining. “I don’t, but yeah, let’s not go there. I’ll get my carousel-pony fix another day.”
“You like the carousel?”
She shrugged. “Honestly, it’s one of my favorites, right up there with the Ferris wheel.”
He threw an inquisitive look toward the rotating pony ride down below, and gulped. “Favorite, huh?”
She reached next to her and gently patted his leg. “It’s not a big deal. I can forgo the carousel if you promise we can do the go-kart raceway.”
A slow grin slid onto his face. “Fuck yeah we can.”
She studied him carefully, and the longer she did, the stronger her stomach butterflies became. Not once could she remember ever feeling the odd sensation, and yet it seemed like a repetitive occurrence when in Phoenix Cross’s presence.
In a last-ditch effort to evict the butterflies, she pulled her gaze away from his and flicked it to his mouth. An overwhelming desire to see if his lips were as soft as they looked washed over her. It wouldn’t take much … a little lean, a slight pucker.
Kiss.
But unless someone hid nearby with a telescopic camera and a hell of a lot of free time, there was no reason to go up a pearl level, and her own curiosity sure as hell didn’t qualify.
The wheel jerked to a stop at the ground ramp, yanking their bodies—which had somehow gotten closer—apart. Oblivious to the sudden pronounced silence, the attendant released their lock and ushered them off the bench.
Phoenix’s fingers interlocked with hers as they navigated the busy walkway, occasionally sneaking each other secret glances. They bought—and devoured—cookies-and-cream-flavored cotton candy, and after a twelve-year-old beat them both in go-karts, they moved systematically from ride to ride.