Miss Mayhem (Rebel Belle #2)(44)

She sat up, tossing her own magazine back onto her nightstand and frowning. “Okay, now I know you’re not okay, because you are never ‘super excited about the fair.’”

“What are you talking about?” I scoffed, sliding the mascara wand back into its tube. “There are rides and lights and cotton candy. You have to be some kind of Nazi not to like cotton candy.”

Bee’s brown eyes narrowed. “And there’s also the smell of manure and dudes who wear trucker hats, and more chewing tobacco than you can spit at.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Get it? Spit? Because chewing—”

Holding up a hand, I stopped her before the thought could make me any more nauseated. “I got it. And you’re right, I’m not a fan of those things.” With that, I turned, bracing my hands on the little vanity. Bee’s room had been the envy of every girl we knew . . . when we were eight. For some reason, she’d never gotten around to redecorating, and while I definitely understood the allure of a canopy bed, it was always a little weird seeing all six feet of Bee on a pink swiss-dotted bedspread.

“What I am a fan of,” I continued, crossing my ankles, “is spending time with you. I need a good girls’ night.”

Bee’s eyes darted away from mine.

“What?” I asked.

“Don’t get mad,” she said quickly, “but I sort of asked Ryan if he wanted to come with?”

For a second, all I could do was blink at her. And then, when I actually went to talk, my voice was way too high. “Ryan?” I all but squeaked.

“I didn’t mean to,” Bee replied, rising to her feet. She was fiddling with the ends of her hair. “I was talking about the fair, and he mentioned that he wasn’t sure he was going this year because he and Mary Beth had planned to go, but obviously that’s not happening, and then he looked so bummed and I felt bad for him.”

Last year, Ryan and I had gone to the fair with Bee and Brandon. I could practically still smell the popcorn and sugary-sweet scent of candy apples. Could remember Ryan’s hand warm in mine. It hadn’t been a great night or anything—Bee was right, the fair wasn’t exactly my fave—but it had been normal.

I tried to imagine walking around the fair tonight with Ryan, not just my ex but a freaking Mage, a walking, talking reminder of how weird my life had become.

Disappointment has a taste, I swear. Something kind of bitter in the back of your throat that you can’t quite swallow. It seemed like I was tasting it a lot these days.

But now I smiled at Bee and said, “Oh no, I totally get that. No worries.”

Bee tilted her head, watching me. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” I waved one hand. “Ryan and I are okay for the most part, and it might be nice to do something with him that’s not crazy-superpower related.”

Bee nodded, her hair bouncing. “That’s what I thought!” she said, and there was something about the brightness of the words that had me looking at her a little more closely.

“Bee,” I said slowly, resting one hip back against the vanity, its lace skirt brushing my calves. “You’re not thinking about Parent Trapping us, are you?”

Rolling her eyes, Bee flopped back onto the bed. “This Paladin thing is making you paranoid. I only want everything to be normal.”

So did I. A lot. But the thing was, it was never going to be. And it was like every time I thought I’d achieved some kind of normal, there was some new wrinkle thrown in, some curveball I had to adjust to. “Excellent multitasker” might have been one of the skills I’d listed on college applications, but it was getting harder and harder to do.

Maybe tonight could be a start, though. If eating cotton candy with Ryan and riding a machine that had been put together by scary dudes for like twenty bucks would make Bee happy, I’d give it a shot.





Chapter 21


THE FAIRGROUNDS were set up on this big field the town had especially to host the festivities every year, about a fifteen-minute drive from Bee’s house.

There was a little bit of weirdness when Ryan came to pick us up, since I had no idea where to sit. Once upon a time, I would have sat with him in the front, but now that felt too couple-y. Especially since we were both technically uncoupled now. So I surrendered the front seat to Bee, sitting in the back and trying to pretend that this wasn’t all super awkward.

Once we were parked, I followed Ryan and Bee from the “parking lot”—another field with a few orange cones and pieces of twine marking off spaces—and wrinkled my nose at the smell of horses and hay.

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” I said to Bee.

She was walking a little bit ahead of me, and she smiled as she turned to look at me, flipping a handful of hair off her shoulders. “Because it’s fun,” she insisted, hanging back to loop an arm through mine.

April in Alabama is usually pretty close to full-blown summer. Hot, humid, all of that. But it was nice now with the sun going down, the breeze cool enough to make me glad I’d grabbed a light cardigan before I’d left. In front of us, the fair sparkled with brightly colored lights, the sound of music and screams greeting our ears.

Stopping outside the main gate, Ryan shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, a broad smile splitting his handsome face. “Now we’re talking,” he said happily, and I couldn’t help but smile, no matter how awkward this felt.