our masks ready to go. We’ll be hidden in plain sight, promise. All you have to do is show up at my condo at 7. What do you say?
While I mull it all over, he texts again.
Come on, petal. It’ll be fun
The use of that nickname pushes me over the edge. I lean out the window to sneak a peek at him. He’s standing at the window of his food truck, his head buried in his phone. He looks up but is careful not to show any discernible happiness in his expression. The wink from before was risky enough in front of everyone.
Something extra dances behind his gaze the longer he looks at me. It’s a sneaky slyness that his hazel-green eyes hide well. I suspect I’m the only one to notice it, because not a single nearby customer pays us any attention. We’re indulging in our secret out in the open, yet no one even notices. Just his eyes on my eyes—it’s all I need.
Tearing my gaze from his, I turn back to my phone.
What color dress would go well with my mask?
Chapter 12
Whoa,” I mutter as Callum pulls his car into Paia.
It’s just after sundown when we arrive to the block party, and this normally sleepy beach town has morphed into a mini Rio de Janeiro during Carnival.
The entire main drag through town is closed to cars. During the day it’s a low-key tourist destination. People mostly pass by it on their way to drive the insanely popular road to Hana. Some stop to check out the restaurants and shops, and to take photos of the Old West–style buildings lining the main street, which are painted in an array of pastel colors. But tonight it’s overrun with a crowd of masked people jumping and gyrating to frenetic dance music.
We get lucky and take a street parking spot right as a car pulls out. Callum stares ahead at the rave-like celebration commencing in front of us.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters, his eyes wide. His expression is what I imagine he would look like if he saw a fireball flash across the sky.
I nudge his shoulder. “This was your idea.”
Twisting his head to face me, he grins. “Are you ready?” He hands me a mask from the back seat of his car. It’s a basic black eye mask with pink feathers shooting from either side and looks perfect with my black minidress.
“Hell yes, I’m ready.”
I secure it on, then watch as he sets his own in place. It’s a gray one that covers half his face, like in Phantom of the Opera.
I gaze down his chest and legs. He’s opted for a crisp, short-sleeve button-up and gray chino shorts. It’s the perfect smart yet not-too-dressy outfit for an outdoor dance party. I lick my lips. Even with his face shrouded, he’s still positively delicious.
We climb out of the car and walk toward the block party. Callum grabs me by the hand and leads me through the mass of swaying bodies. The sea breeze picks up, whipping my hair around my face. Callum turns to me and tucks my hair behind my ear.
Even though I can’t see most of his face, I can tell just how much he’s enjoying being out and about. His mouth is curved up into that telltale half smile he sports every time he’s happy yet wants to play it cool.
“Thank you.” I squeeze his hand.
We stop at a nearby booth selling some rum, pineapple, and coconut concoction in a coconut shell. I hand the seller cash and hold the straw up to Callum’s mouth. He takes a sip, making a satisfied exhale when he swallows. “Very, very good.”
“Hey, cool accent, man.”
Callum gives the guy a thumbs-up as he flashes the hang loose sign. We continue down the block. The song booming through the salty sea air is some EDM tune I don’t recognize. I bop along anyway, swaying my hips as we walk.
“I didn’t know you were such a good dancer,” Callum says as we walk along the outskirts of the dancing crowd.
I pull him by the hand, moving us away from the crowd, and take a few more pulls of the fruity drink. It’s more dangerous than it tastes, because already I’m feeling tipsy. I haven’t had a strong cocktail in about a year.
“I used to go out dancing all the time with my friends when I lived in Portland. Not so much anymore.”
“That’s a shame,” he says. “I love seeing you let loose.”