The Punk and the Plaything (When Rivals Play #3) - B.B. Reid Page 0,47

our tickets. I’d completely forgotten to purchase some. The sign on the stand read two per rider. Swiveling my head, I looked for the nearest ticket booth and spotted one maybe twenty feet away. Before I could head in that direction, however, I nearly swallowed my tongue when Jamie handed the man four tickets.

“If you just wait for a second, I can get my own.” I still had a twenty left over from my allowance burning a hole in my dress pocket.

“I’d rather not,” was all Jamie said before grabbing my hand and tugging me through the gate the operator held open. He didn’t let my hand go, either, until we took our seats. As I gripped the metal safety bar, my hand was shaking and completely covered in sweat. His or mine?

I glanced at him as he slouched down, appearing completely relaxed as he made a point to stare straight ahead.

Definitely mine.

I might as well have not even been there. “Thank you for the tickets.”

The only response I got was his head turning slightly away, shielding his eyes from me. Sighing, I sat back. It was obvious he wasn’t interested in being friends. After the hell he put me through this week, no way should I have been considering it.

At least one of us was still thinking clearly.

The lights on the Ferris wheel lighting up was our only warning before the wheel began to slowly ascend backward. When we reached the top, I looked around excitedly. I couldn’t believe how high we’d gotten when we reached the top. It was my first time on a Ferris wheel, and when I met Jamie’s excited gaze, I knew instantly that it was his first time, too.

If I asked him, he’d probably deny it, so I reluctantly tore my gaze away to watch all the people who looked like dots now. I could see everything, including the empty field not far away where they were setting up for the fireworks tonight. It wasn’t until midnight, so I knew I’d miss them.

I began to panic, however, when I realized I was sliding closer and closer to Jamie as the wheel picked up speed and the bench began to rock. No matter how hard I resisted, gripping the safety bar to keep me in place, gravity seemed to be pushing me toward Jamie. Before long, our thighs were touching, and he stiffened in his seat.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Whatever,” he mumbled, cutting me off.

I pulled away only to slide right back into him. I tried again but was stopped when he locked his arm around my waist.

“Give it a rest,” he whispered, his lips so close they brushed my forehead. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

I huffed as I tried to settle against him and ended up squirming out of nervousness instead. I just wanted off this damn wheel.

“So what’s your deal?” he asked the moment I relaxed.

I glanced up, but he wasn’t paying me any mind as he watched everyone enjoy themselves below.

“My deal? What makes you think I have one?”

“You’ve been a bitch to me since I got here.”

The wheel suddenly stopped, leaving us at the top, so I sat up and moved away. “Excuse me? You threw the first punch.” So to speak. Technically, I’d thrown the first punch, but I wouldn’t have if he hadn’t hogged all of Mrs. Greene’s cookies for himself and pushed me down when I confronted him.

“You didn’t like me before then.”

“How do you know?” I shot back.

He finally gave me his gaze. “I just know.”

“Well, that’s not good enough for me.”

“Clearly, I’m not either,” he mumbled.

“You’re trouble,” I whispered defensively. Which meant the smart thing to do was to stay far away from him…right?

I swallowed hard when his gaze narrowed. “You don’t even know me.”

“I’ve heard all about you.”

“Those are stories. Stories get lost in translation,” he said, sounding wiser than he should have.

“How old are you?” I blurted out. Not only was his voice deeper, I’d glimpsed the hair growing under his pits earlier and on his arms and legs. Ever, Vaughn, and Jason, however, were still smooth.

“I’m twelve. How old are you?”

“Twelve. My birthday was two weeks ago.”

His gaze flickered, and he sounded almost grim when he said, “I’ll be thirteen in three weeks.”

I did the math and sucked in a breath. Jamie was nearly an entire year older than me. He was also older than Ever, but only by a couple of months, whereas eleven months separated Jamie and me. If I’d been