the sting. This is better than the paintballs, better than eradicating that spider, better than wearing clothes that show off a little more skin.
The bike slows, and I peek up over Pete’s shoulder to a red light. He eases us to a stop, and I feel his body relax against mine. A shiver goes up my spine.
“You doing all right?” He twists around, and the concern in his light brown irises melts my heart into a bowl of chili on this cold night.
“Yeah,” I say with a breathy laugh.
The corner of his mouth perks up. “Mind if we head to Big Bear Park?”
I shake my head, my grin widening. The park is decked out this time of year—lots of lights and a hot cocoa stand and carolers. It’s Saturday, too, so it’ll still be bustling this late.
The light turns green, and I tighten my hold almost on instinct. I can’t believe I didn’t feel safe with these things; that is the big reason why it’s a violet level. So many bad things can happen, and my imagination doesn’t help.
Motorcycles equaled danger, but holding onto Pete and letting him care for my well-being has never felt safer.
The park is about twenty miles from Troublemakers, and I start calculating the time it’ll take to go back, and then drive home.
I’ll be out past my bedtime. Go me! Another bad girl thing I’ve done today.
My hands are numb by the time Pete pulls us into the park. As I predicted, the place is a buzz. It looks like it’s mostly people on dates or hanging out in groups. I recognize a few people from art school, including Tristan. I want to wave, but I don’t dare move my hands from Pete’s waist until we come to a complete stop.
“I’m gonna find parking ‘round the other side,” he calls to me.
“Okay!”
He takes us to the back entrance to the park—a much quieter place, but that’s mostly because there aren’t as many lights. He stops the bike near one of the only trees with no decorations.
The engine cuts off, but my body is still on vibrate. Another giggle erupts from my body, like I can’t control it.
“Was it as bad as you thought?” Pete asks as I slide from the bike. My legs are still shaking, and he reaches out to steady me. I gladly take him up on the offer.
“Do I have to admit you were right?”
He laughs. “Nah. I’ll let this one slide.”
“How kind of you.”
My body is a just-opened bottle of champagne. My legs wobble as we make our way to the hot cocoa stand, and more and more giggles burst from me in uncontained bubbles. Pete keeps giving me the side-eye, amusement flickering in his expression. He must be getting a kick out of me, but he’s not teasing me. Yet, anyway.
“Look,” he says after we’ve settled on a bench in the park, hot cocoa giving my hands feeling again. He lifts his wrist, showing me his watch. “It’s 10:31.”
“I know.” I grin big over my cup. “I’m breaking all sorts of rules now.”
“Such a rebel.”
I give him a playful punch to the arm. “Don’t make fun. Don’t you like this bizarro world Candace?”
His grin falters, and he rests his gaze on a few trees adorned in Christmas lights. “I don’t know why you didn’t like this world’s.”
“Seriously?” I snort. Normal Candace wouldn’t have done any of the stuff I did today. Pride rips strong in my chest, though that could be the cocoa.
“Yeah.” He meets my eyes. “She’s always been fun to work with.”
“You are lying straight through those whipped cream covered teeth.”
He licks his lips free from the whipped topping, and I can’t seem to stop grinning from ear to ear. It feels good to conquer something violet level… almost like I aced a test.
Carolers start singing from across the park, their voices a beautiful soundtrack to an already amazing night.
“So…?” Pete nudges, and I furrow my brow.
“What?”
He lets out a sigh. “What’s so wrong about being yourself?”
Oh. I didn’t realize he was actually asking. I stare down at my cocoa cup, running a finger around the rim. “It’s… lonely, I guess.” Not the answer I want to admit, but it’s honest. “Not many people can tolerate someone who is always pointing out flaws or rule-breaking.”
“True,” he says, and I go to sock him one, but he dodges me. “But that’s their problem, isn’t it?”
“See?” I tilt my head. “I can’t even do that.”
“Do what?”
“Think that way. I can’t