Page 141 of Mexico Can Choke On It
He lifts up the blindfold.
“Aaand that was a test. You failed,” I say, smacking his wrist and yanking the blindfold back down. “No peeking. This whole thing only works if you commit, Moneybags.”
“I’m blindfolded in public wearing denim. I’d say I’m all in Pip.”
I loop my arm through his and start guiding him across the garage. “Trust the process.”
We fall into step, me leading him down the sidewalk, my fingers laced with his. The sunset’s already throwing orange and pink across the pavement.
The man who calculates each move like it’s a stock trade let me cover his eyes, in broad daylight, for a surprise.
God, what does that even mean?
As we get closer to our destination, the world around us explodes with sound and smell—kids laughing and squealing, music thumping from speakers against the backdrop of crashing waves, the thick scent of sugar and fried batter in the air. It’s sensory overload, and Bryce is tensing up beside me.
I spot what I’m looking for—a street vendor with a cart that has the scent of heaven wrapped in grease—and make a beeline for it, pulling one bewildered billionaire along with me.
“Dos, por favor,” I say to the guy, butchering my high school Spanish. I hand him some cash. “Muchas gracias, señor.Keep the change.”
“Are we there yet?” Bryce asks, his head tilting toward the sounds of sizzling meat frying. “I’m famished. Whatever that is, it smells incredible.”
“Poor sheltered rich boy, never had to practice patience,” I tease, accepting two foil-wrapped bundles that are almost too hot to hold.
“Guilty as charged,” he admits with no hint of shame. “Though, I did wait seven years to taste you again.”
I stumble slightly, nearly dropping our food.
Seven years?
Oh my God.
Our kiss. That night. That awkward, desperate, perfect collision between two people who weren’t supposed to collide.
Has he been carrying it, too? Holding it the way I have, all this time?
I want to ask him. Want to spin around and grab his face and demand answers.Was it more than a kiss for you? Was it the moment that ruined every person after?
But fear chokes me.
I don’t say a word and keep walking. I bury the questions deep—into that hidden place where I stash things I’m too scared to want.
“Almost time for the big reveal.”
I line him up like he’s about to be let in on a surprise party. Because he is. Tonight is for him.
I strike a pose with my arms raised high and a cheesy grin across my face. “All right, B, take off the mask!”
He pulls away the blindfold, blinks against the sudden light, and his entire body goes stiff.
Behind me, the beach is a golden halo of lights. A full-blown carnival by the freaking ocean. Spinning rides, game booths with stuffed animal prizes, the sweet scent of cotton candy mixing with fried food and ocean salt. Families wander between attractions, kids shrieking with delight as they race from ride to ride.
Bryce isn’t smiling.
He cycles through emotions I cannot read.
Oh fuck. This was a horrible idea.
“Shit, Bryce, I’m sorry. This was stupid,” I babble, words tumbling out. “I should’ve thought this through. I—I heard what your mom said about your eighth birthday. That you wanted a carnival with hot dogs. And she said, ‘Wedon’t do tacky carnival birthdays.’ So then you got shipped off to Casa Cashmere for some boujee, rich-kid snoozefest.”
