Page 44 of Fall With Me
I hold up a finger. “I’m not agreeing, but what do you have in mind?”
“We lost last time,” Finn says.
I never told Finn I did that on purpose. “Chloe was faster at picking apples.” I shrug likewhat are you gonna do?
“If I hit the most targets, Finn has to kiss a goat and you have to ride the Pumpkin Basher.”
I groan. Of course she picks the spinning ride as my punishment. “And if we hit more targets than you?”
“Finn gets to tell the face painter what to put on my face and I have to wear it the rest of the night.”
“Why can’t I have the face paint option too?” I ask.
There’s a teasing glint in her eyes. “It’s not high enough stakes.”
If circumstances allowed me to ask her on a date, I’d wager a night out. But I can’t, so I snap the rubber bandagain. “No.” I shake my head. “You don’t like spinning rides either. We both have the same penalty or the bet’s off.”
Finn stands between us, his head shifting back and forth as he watches Chloe and me stare each other down. I’m not caving. Based on what I know of Chloe’s personality, neitheris she. The problem is, the longer I gaze into her eyes, the more my resolve slips.
“Your call, 007.”
She eyes the apple blasters. The second her eyes narrow and she bobs her head once, I know what she’s going to say. “The pumpkin basher it is.”
I swallow against the nausea brewing in my stomach. Why couldn’t she go for the face painting for both of us? I want to say no, we’re here for fun, but I can’t. Because deep down, no matter what lie I tell myself, I do like this about Chloe. I won’tevertell her that, though. She’d turn everything into a contest.
The only way to not make myself sick for the rest of the night is to win. Squatting, I look Finn right in the eyes. “Do we have this?”
“I’llbe fine. Worry about yourself.”
Chloe and I bust up laughing.
I ruffle Finn’s hair. “Thanks, dude.”
Chapter 21
Chloe
My winning streak is officially over. Why didn’t I say face painting for us both? Dawson could have sported a beautiful butterfly or princess makeup. I could be in line waiting to get some monster or, knowing Finn, Pickachu on my cheeks. Instead, like always, I do the stupid thing and now I’m standing in line for the pumpkin basher. My stomach tightens and swirls at the same time. Watching this cage of people sitting in a circle around a pole while it spins is making me question every silly wager I’ve ever made.
One thing’s for certain: I won’t be betting anyone again anytime soon. I’ve learned my lesson.
“Do I really have to do this?” I whine to Finn and Dawson, who graciously offered to wait in line with me.
“I’m not the one who got us into this mess.” Dawson grins, extra pleased with his last shot that hit the target dead center and secured his and Finn’s win.
“Can we do the jump pads after this?” Finn asks.
Uhhh. Dawson will have to do that with Finn on his own. If I don’t lose my cookies on the ride, there’s a big chance I will when I get off. “I’ll watch you two play while I recover.”
The ride ends and before I know it, it’s my turn to load up. Wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, I slowly walk to the ride like I’m about to be burned at the stake. The second my butt settles into the chair, my heart races. Saliva pools in my mouth and bile shoots to the back of my throat.
I can do this. Breathe.
One minute of misery. Anyone can handle one minute.
The carnival worker goes around, checking everyone’s seatbelt. He leans down to look at mine.
I panic. “I can’t do this. I need to get off. Right now!”
