Every Little Dream (Second Chances) (9 page)

“Gross. You’re not a puker, are you?”

She smiles. “I guess you’ll have to find out.”

It’s our turn and we climb into the cage. We’re belted in and the door clangs shuts. I expected her to be terrified, but the eager smile and the way she braces her legs and arms and tells me she’s an old pro at this. I’m the sucker. Shit. Maybe I should’ve chosen a ride I’d been on before. I’ve never been the carnival-kind-of-guy. The gears grind and the ride picks up speed. My stomach drops the first time we flip over. She screams and laughs.

“Close your eyes!” she shouts.

I close my eyes. My body jerks and moves and flips. The wind tears through. The rush of adrenaline explodes in my body.

And for one brief second, I’m flying.

Chapter 6

Katie

I lean against the window of the Inn, waiting. For Chad. He’s twenty minutes late. My feet already tap to the music, and I hope he’s ready for the night I have planned. If this doesn’t bring a little sweet innocence to his life I don’t know what will.

Traffic has thickened, the crowds passing in front of me. Everyone anxious to find a seat. The bandstand is already packed, has to be. These kinds of nights always bring in the older crowds. The sound of the guitar echoes out from the stage as the band warms up. I’ve watched the crowds when a band is playing the Oldies, they laugh and sway to the beat. I can see the memories flash before they eyes as they embrace their childhood sweethearts. These nights always pluck at my heart. I hope that someday that will be me, that someday I’ll find the kind of love that lasts.

I listen for the roar of his motorcycle or see it weaving in and out of the cars, but I can’t see or hear him arriving. It’s my turn to plan the date, and I’m going to push the romance envelope more than I would’ve dared in the past, because I know he won’t laugh at me, and because it’s time. I have a surprise waiting back in my room, and every time I think about it, I want to giggle. This girl wants another kiss.

Someone jabs me in the ribs then twirls me around. My heart shoots skyward until I recognize Chad. I can’t help but laugh. A certain kind of lightness finds me more and more when I’m with him. I only hope I do the same for him.

“Hey, you’re late.” And I jab him back.

He pouts and flashes me fake puppy dog eyes. “Forgive me?”
 

His dark eyes draw me in, the look accomplishing more than just forgiveness. A feeling surges inside. I want to hold his hand, run my fingers through his hair, gently kiss him. Of course, I don’t want to be that transparent, so I start walking, my nose in the air. “Well, better not happen again.”

“Or what?” He easily catches up to me in a couple strides.

“Or, or, you’ll be in big trouble.” Then I smile to let him know I’m not really mad.

He leans close and whispers, “You can punish me anytime.”

A thrill goes through my chest. He says things like that, infers he wants to be with me, but then he holds back. Is it me? Am I too much of the good girl? Or maybe he senses I’m lying and have thousands of dollars back in my room, which I absolutely hate and will give back as soon as I figure out exactly how to walk into a lawyer’s office with that much cash.
 

I brush it off. “Come on. We don’t want to miss it.”
 

“The band?”
 

“Yup. The good seats are probably already taken.” It’s a small enough stadium shell that all the seats are just fine. I slip my hand into his. He doesn’t seem to mind. The music grows louder, the words becoming more than just fuzz in the background. He sings along to it.

“You know these songs?”
 

“Yeah. Why?” He steps back. “Let me guess. You thought I just listened to heavy metal or grunge music.”

I feel the blush starting. “Well…” My eyes go to the leather jacket and the tattoos.

He laughs. “I know. I know. I fit the image. Glad I lost the lip ring or you probably wouldn’t even be seen with me.”
 

We walk in silence, his words really hitting me. Wow. I didn’t realize I’d put him in a cage, assumed something about him based on his looks. Isn’t that exactly what I’m trying to break free from? People expecting that I don’t want to have fun because I usually follow the rules and I have that look of schoolgirl innocence? “Tell me something about yourself I don’t know then.”
 

“Not sure you want to know. If I tell you I do normal stuff like listen to music and sleep and eat a package of Oreos in one sitting, my image will be shattered.” He steers me through the thickening crowd as we draw closer, putting his arm around me, protectively. I like it and snuggle closer. I sigh because this feels so right.

The bandstand is right in the middle of the boardwalk. A stage with a shell surrounding it faces the street, and benches in a half circle surround it. They’re already filling up with older couples.

“You sure this is the kind of excitement you want?” he asks, his expression doubtful.

“No.” I nudge him. “This is for you. We can have a good time without breaking the law.”

He gasps and falters, pretending to almost fall over. “I’m hurt. Mortally wounded.” He clutches his chest.

I laugh as we squeeze into the back row, but I feel bad for saying that. As the band gets going, I watch Chad lip sync along to the music. He knows more of them than I do and I thought I knew a lot especially since my dad listens to them every Saturday night.
 

I whisper, “Sorry about that. Obviously eating Oreos and sleeping aren’t illegal.”
 

In response, he presses his lips into the side of my head, pats his mouth as if hiding a yawn, then goes back to listening. Curse words roll through my head, but then I remember my planned surprise. I stifle a squeal, anticipating his reaction and hoping it’s good.

I know exactly how to get our fun started. “Fine, if this is a little boring for you, let’s play a game.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “You sure you want to risk playing with me? I’m known to be pretty competitive.”
 

“Despite my good girl image,” I fluff the ends of my hair, “I do like to have fun.”

He rubs his hands together. “What do you have in mind, sweetheart?”
 

“Truth or dare.”
 

He smirks. “Seriously? Can we then go back to your place and play Two Minutes in the Closet?” Then right after he hugs me. “Just kidding. I’m game. Go ahead.”
 

“Um, I was thinking you could start.”
 

He leans back and rubs his chin. “Dare.”

“Ooh, starting out with a dare.” Crap. Now I have to think of something. I glance around at the crowds, clapping, singing and getting into it. “Okay. The next song, you have to be the one to stand up, sing, clap and get at least two people to join in with you.”

“Oh, man. You’re tough.” He clears his throat and takes a few deep breaths. I have a feeling they’re more for my benefit.
 

The band starts in with a bluesy rock song. Chad jumps up and with wide sweeping arm motions claps. When the first chorus comes, he belts it out, rising above the people surrounding us. He moves his body to the rhythm. Before long, I find myself wanting to join in.

I stand and clap, singing, just not quite as loud as him. I yell, “I don’t count!” He smiles and keeps going. The adrenaline increases around us, crackling in the air. Slowly but surely, he affects the crowd. The man behind us stands us and claps feebly, but he claps. Then the person next to him. And the person next to him. It’s like a wave.

He finishes the dare, but he doesn’t stop until the song is over. Then he plops down. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
 

“Wow, that was good. I guess I was too easy on you considering these people clap to almost every song.” He has such charisma when he wants. I begin to understand why his father might want him working on his side. If he wanted, Chad could be a force to be reckoned with.

“Time to pay the piper. Your turn,” he says.

“Truth.”
 

“Of course, of course,” he scoffs. “Girls always pick truth.”

“That’s only because boys give these ridiculous dares that usually involve taking off clothes.” I stand by my decision while he thinks of a question.

He leans closer with an evil smirk. “If you could have sex anywhere at any time, where would it be?”

My face blooms like a ripe tomato. I feel it spread through my neck and cheeks. Not just because my thoughts spread to sex but who I might want to have that sex with. What girl hasn’t fantasized about the time and place of their first?

He smiles, a knowing smile, like he knew the question would embarrass me. “I can wait.”
 
He belts out the words to the current song and joins into the spirit spreading through the audience as the song picks up the pace.

After two more songs, and I’m still debating my answer, he says, “I can offer up some suggestions if you need them.” He points his thumb toward his chest. “I’m good for something.”
 

More time passes. This is too intimate. I can’t share with him my fantasies about something so private. Not here. Not now.

“Fine,” he says between songs, “I’ll let you off the hook but that means you have to take the dare.”

“Okay.” I take his offer in a breathless rush of words. “But I’m not taking off any clothes or having sex up on the stage so don’t even think about it.”
 

“How’d you know what I was thinking?” he jokes. He takes my hand just as the first chords to a slower-pace song start. Sounds like Aretha Franklin. “Come with me.” He pushes his way to the aisle.

“You have to tell me first!” I hiss.

He grins, his eyes flashing with mischief. “Nope. You’ll have to wait and see. Unless you want to answer my questions...”

I set my jaw. “Go ahead. I’m up for it.”

He leads me to the aisle and down the steps to the area between the bleachers and the stage. The crowds don’t notice at first, but when he stops in the wide-open space and wraps his arm around my waist, I panic.

“You want to dance, here? In front of everyone?”

He smiles this sultry smile and slowly moves his body back and forth. He guides my hips to move in beat with the music and his own gyrating body. His left hand traces down the side of my body and then back up.

I fight off the shiver and the desire to let loose.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he whispers in my ear.

I move to the music, to him, and the heat rising up in my body in reaction to him. His body. His smile. And his eyes, which haven’t left mine, not for a second. My breath hitches. And I let go. I forget the crowds. I forget my embarrassment. I’ll show him that every good girl has their bad side.

 
Taking a deep breath and feeling thankful my dad isn’t around, I lift my hands up through my hair, revealing my neck and dance around him. He grabs my waist and I arch back and then up again.

The band takes advantage of our bold actions. They invite others to join. Soon, couples surround us, dirty dancing. I let out a laugh. Wisps of air thread through my inhibitions, creating a rush inside. Freedom. I can almost taste it.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks, voice rough.

I nod. We leave the crowds. No one misses us as half the bleachers are squeezed onto the floor in front of the stage. The farther we walk from the bandstand, the music fades, but the thrill I felt doesn’t.
 

“Ready for part two?” I ask. Now I’m the one with the evil smirk, anxious to bring him up to my bedroom.

At first he doesn’t say anything, just glances at his watch. I recognize the look and doubt the emotion we felt and what I heard in his voice. He was the one who asked me to leave. “Ready for part two?”

He pulls me into a goodbye squeeze, I can tell. His lips find my head again and he mumbles something about plans and work and it’s his turn next. Before I know it, I’m left standing in front of the Inn, watching him rev up his bike and drive away. What just happened? What went wrong? In a daze, I trudge up to my room and shut the door. I sit on the floor, letting the picnic on my floor I’d set up earlier blur in and out of focus.

I hear a soft knock on the door. I know it’s Justine. She must’ve seen me come in alone. “Come on in.”

She sits across from me. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. It was great and then all of a sudden he had to leave.” I pluck a chocolate covered strawberry and take a bite.
 

Justine pours us both a glass of champagne. I guzzle it down. I spent a couple hours earlier planning this picnic in my measly attempt to provide some romance.
 

“I think I’m just a distraction for him, the flavor of the month.” Or maybe he’s using me to help his good boy image as he works for his father.

“I doubt that. He could have a lot of girls, but he’s choosing to spend time with you. Maybe he had to work at the new job?”

“At night?”

Justine shrugs. “Just saying.”
 

He’s hiding something from me. A gut feeling tells me that. Either that or it’s the guilt for keeping my own secrets. Shaking off the rejection, I force a laugh and talk with Justine as we chow down on the rest of the picnic. I try not to look at the closet and the beach bag full of cash stuffed toward the back.
 

Chad

After leaving our date so abruptly the other night, I felt like a complete asshole, but I can’t share with her the exact details of my internship and why it calls for odd hours. That’s the way it goes with drug dealing. And I’m having a hard time even spotting Henry Kingston IV.

Katie made such an effort to have fun and show me a good time to help my reputation while working for my father. That’s what floors me. I’ve never had a girl go out with me with the sole goal of making sure I had fun. So now it’s my turn to offer Katie the excitement she’s looking for. No boring dates of dinner and then a romantic movie that puts us to sleep. That won’t do it for her. She needs something more original. She needs a custom-planned date.