Come What May - L.K. Farlow Page 0,5

life, he’s been this larger-than-life persona. That he’s no longer here is unfathomable. The fact that he left of his own volition—it’s nearly debilitating.

I’m dragging my corn dog through my ketchup and mustard mixture when a shadow falls over my table. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone?”

I glance up to find not one but two guys standing over my table. They’re nearly interchangeable in looks—tall, fit, fishing shorts, button-downs, and university-affiliated ball caps. The only discernable difference is their hair color—one blond and one brunette.

“Eating?” My reply comes out as a question.

“Mind if me and my buddy here join you? All of the other tables are full.”

A quick look around confirms the dark-haired man’s statement. “Sure.”

The two men sandwich me in. “Thanks. We got one more joining us.”

“Okay,” I say. In truth, I feel a little on edge with them here, but at the same time, it’s so nice to be around people—people who don’t know about the death of my dad. People who won’t look at me with pity.

“A lady of few words, huh?” the blond asks.

I shrug.

“I’m Jason,” the first man says.

“And I’m Allen.”

“Seraphine,” I say, my lips tipping up in a small grin.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Jason says right as another man joins us. He’s another carbon copy of his friends, except he’s rocking a five-o’clock shadow and has his hat turned around backward.

“I brought beer!” the newcomer hollers before claiming the chair across from me.

“Manners,” Allen chides, reaching for one of the plastic cups in the middle of the table.

“Well, hello there,” he says in a voice that can only be described as a purr. “I’m lucky.”

“That’s your name?”

“No, Cliff’s the name; I’m lucky because I get to spend my night with a beautiful woman such as yourself.”

Despite the fall chill in the air, warmth blossoms across my cheeks.

“You want a drink?” Jason asks.

Warning bells—albeit very distant ones—sound, telling me not to take the drink. And yet, I find myself nodding and bringing the cup to my lips. My face screws up at the first sip, making them all laugh. There’s nothing worse than cheap beer, and after seven days of drinking Dad’s alcohol, the difference in quality has never been more apparent.

Still, these three and their booze may just prove to be the perfect distraction.

“One more!” Jason says, his cheeks ruddy from the nip in the air and the previous two rounds of drinks. I open my mouth to protest, but he’s faster. “Just one more round and then we can check out the rides.”

My initial protest dies on my lips when I see the pleading looks on my new friends’ faces. “Okay, fine.” A chorus of cheers ring out. “But only one!”

“You heard the lady,” Allen whoops, sending Jason off to the drink tent.

The three of us talk—well, they talk, I listen—about a whole lot of nothing while we wait on Jason to return. About ten minutes later, he does, and we all throw our drinks back before tossing the cups and heading out toward the rides.

“Shiiiiit,” I slur, swaying like a reed as we walk toward the Ferris wheel. “Those—” I stumble, and the pretty blond one catches me. “Thanks… y-yeah.”

His lips are quirked up in a sinful smile. “I’ve got you.” He hauls me back to standing but doesn’t release me. “We’ve all got you.”

I try to smile, but something about his words, even through the alco-haze, seems off. “St-strong.”

He flexes a little. “I am.”

“Strong d-drinks.” My tongue feels fat—like it’s too big for my mouth.

Blondie replies, but his voice is nothing more than a warble, as if he’s on dry land and I’m underwater.

“Huh?” I murmur, wondering when my three new friends doubled to six.

The three—or six—men talk as they corral me to whatever destination they have in mind.

The sound of someone calling my name tickles my ears, but I’m too busy floating… too busy flying to reply.

Ser-a-phine. My name reaches me again, this time louder. I twirl in a circle, searching out the shouter of the syllables. The move sends both me and my blond man-friend flying to a heap on the ground.

He grumbles beneath me, but it’s feminine hands that reach down to help me up.

Her mouth moves, but her words barely penetrate the haze around me—that is until she grabs me by the front of my shirt and forcibly pulls me to standing.

“Whoa!” I giggle at the sensation of falling upward. “Again!” I try and collapse back down, but someone supports me from