I go, Akara will eventually catch back up to me. But I feel like we’ve been hanging out at the carnival as friends, and even if he just briefly left, I’d want to spend the next few minutes with him.
So I wait.
Banks doesn’t even bat an eye at my choice.
And not long after, Akara pockets his cell and jogs back over. “Sorry, Sul. Had to take the super, important phone call about taxes.” He sighs. “It was riveting.” His sarcasm is all over his face.
“Oh hey, at least you’re important enough to take important calls.” I smack his well-defined abs.
He steals my hair tie out of my bun. Fuck! My long hair falls, and he flings a strand at my face and walks backwards, just as I try to steal the hair tie back.
He raises it above his head. “At least I’m important enough to protect a very important person.”
I try to grab the hair tie again, but Akara hides it behind his back. I tell him, “Banks must be more important since he’s clocked in more hours protecting me.”
Banks laughs, and Akara snaps the hair tie at his friend’s face.
We’re all laughing again, and Banks returns the hair tie to me. “Thanks,” I say as I fix the strands up in another messy bun, and I spot bright bulbs that spell out American Circus Funhouse.
“Want to check it out?” I ask them.
They’re already leading the way.
I follow them up creaky metal stairs and into a tight hallway. It’s actually weirdly quiet. The outside sounds of laughter and the music from amusement rides are more muffled here.
Banks messes with his earpiece. “Comms are jammed?”
“No service,” Akara tells him. “It’s fine. Thatcher is keeping tabs on everyone.” Thatcher Moretti. He’s the SFO lead. Banks’ identical twin brother is actually higher than Banks on the security hierarchy.
Metal disks line the hallway, and they spin Akara 360-degrees when he steps foot on one. He keeps complete and total balance.
Like a badass.
Banks trips. “Jesus, Mary—”
Akara catches Banks’ wrist and pulls him onto the second spinning disk. They’re hugging to stay on the same metal plate.
I grip the side railings and use my upper-body strength to avoid touching the disks. Leaping my way through.
Akara cups his hand over his mouth. “Cheating!”
“Hey, I’m being fucking resourceful. Why else put railings here?”
“For people like Banks,” Akara quips, stepping easily on the next disk.
Banks follows and laughs. “She’s allergic to land, so she’d know how to avoid it. I’m a fucking tree. I actually like standing.”
“She’s not a mermaid,” Akara says as we pass the rest of the spinning disks.
Banks looks a little ticked. He even shoots Akara an annoyed glance.
Akara frowns back like, What?
I look Banks over, my pulse quickening, and I bite my lip, feeling a smile. He came to my defense. Feels like some type of romance—or I could be really fucking playing myself. How far-fetched is it that Banks could see me as more than a friend?
He’s never even made a move.
I get that there are bodyguard rules. Close but not too fucking close, but some of my cousins have decimated those rules.
Maximoff.
Jane.
They deserve a round of applause for doing the fucking impossible and making it all work.
We enter a much larger blue room. Polka-dot-painted boxing bags hang like a maze. And I tell Banks, “Don’t mind Kits. He doesn’t believe in mermaids.”
Banks cocks his head at Akara. “You don’t believe in beautiful women who swim in the sea?”
“With a tail?” he asks incredulously. “No, man. That shit is for Disney movies. Anyway, Sulli is more like a…” He eyes me. “String bean.”
My mouth falls, and I’d slug his arm if he were closer.
He smiles teasingly. “No muscle. Can’t lift a five-pound weight. Way too tall. Definitely a string bean.”
I push a boxing bag aside, trying not to zero in on the “too tall” part. I am taller than the average woman, but the rest of his words were bullshit. I have a lot of muscle and a fucking six-pack that I worked hard for.
Plus, I can lift over a hundred-fifty pounds.
I mean, fuck, I can lift him. “Let me carry you out of here and we’ll see how much of a string bean I am.”
Akara just laughs.
Banks grips the top of a boxing bag, and when my eyes meet his, it feels like he can see right through me. Heat blazes my neck because I’m not totally fucking sure what he’s thinking. But I just know I wish I could hear it.
We loiter