Miss Mayhem (Rebel Belle #2)(45)

In that moment, I would’ve given anything to be able to slip my hand into Ryan’s and lean against his shoulder. Not because I wanted him to be my boyfriend, but because he was good at that, being a shoulder to lean on.

Instead, I hugged myself, walking toward the booth to pay.

Once we were inside, the three of us kind of stood in the midway, unsure of what to do first.

The fair was, as usual, way too crowded, and I was a little too out of sorts to deal with things like the smell of farm animals and too many people. Still, I was doing my best to pretend this was the Best Night Ever, so I smiled at Bee and looped an arm through hers.

“What should we ride first?”

But Bee was not that easily fooled. “It’s okay, Harper,” she said, patting the hand I had resting on her forearm. “I know you hate every second of this.”

“I don’t!” I argued, but that lasted all of five seconds before I let my arm fall back to my side. “Okay, I do, but it’s honestly not as bad as I remembered. I mean, they banned smoking! So that’s something.”

Laughing, Bee rolled her eyes at me. “At least you’re trying,” she acknowledged.

At my other side, Ryan nudged my elbow, nodding toward the shooting gallery amid the carnival games that lined the center of the midway.

“You wanna try out one of those?” he asked.

I almost laughed and shook my head. I had never been a fan of those types of things, and honestly, how many giant stuffed animals does a girl need? But then Ryan grinned down at me and nudged me again. “Come on, I wanna see your Paladin skills in action.”

That was right. Along with increased strength and speed, I had some seriously excellent accuracy now and, like any girl right out of a breakup, I saw the appeal of making things explode.

I approached the booth, going to pull five bucks out of my pocket, but Ryan waved my money away. “No, this is on me. Harper Price, shooting things? Totally worth it.”

Rolling my eyes, I smiled anyway. “Shooting balloons with a bright yellow plastic gun,” I reminded him. “Not exactly superhero stuff.”

He flicked his auburn hair out of his eyes. “I’ll take what I can get.”

So for the next ten minutes or so, I shot the heck out of some balloons with a dart gun. And to be honest, it was fun. Not just the shooting things—although I have to admit that was a lot more enjoyable than I’d ever thought something like that could be—but the joking and laughing with Ryan and Bee. It felt so good not to worry about Oracles or Ephors, or if a vision was suddenly going to come out of nowhere, making me have to lie to everyone around me.

Part of me felt guilty about that, like having fun wasn’t allowed.

But then I reminded myself that David was the one who had broken things off, David was the one who had chosen the Paladin over the girlfriend, and if I wanted to have a good time with my best friend and my ex-boyfriend, I was more than allowed.

After the shooting gallery, we went in search of other games that might test my and Bee’s Paladin skills. That thing where you throw balls into goldfish bowls, more dart games, even an archery booth with foam-tipped arrows—I did them all, grinning at the surprise on the barkers’ faces when I hit target after target, laughing with Bee as she struggled to hold all my stuffed prizes.

Finally, when we’d hit pretty much everything we could, we headed away from the carnival games..

“Can I stand next to Bee so people think I won all those for her?” Ryan asked, making us laugh.

“No need to feel emasculated,” I reminded him as Bee handed yet another one of her prizes to a passing kid. “You did win the basketball thingie.”

“Only because you let me,” he reminded me, and I shrugged.

“What can I say, I’m a good friend.”

Ryan stopped, turning to face me. The lights overhead brought out the red in his hair, and once again, I was forced to acknowledge that he was handsome. Maybe he didn’t make my stomach flutter anymore, but there was something nice about feeling this way about him now. Like I actually saw him for the person he was—loyal, stubborn, easygoing—and not the trophy he used to be for me.

“You are a good friend, Harper,” he said. “And I kind of like being your friend.”

“Same,” I told him, smiling.

Over his shoulder, I caught Bee watching us with an expression I couldn’t read. Probably thinking more Parent Trap thoughts, I decided, and went over to take more of the fluffy animals from her hands.

“Stop,” I told her in a low voice, joking, but she gave me a sort of wan smile in return, handing her last prize, a bright green stuffed frog, to a little boy in an Auburn Tigers T-shirt.

Once we were out of prizes to hand out, we made our way to the food trucks. “Did all that winning work up a hunger for something super caloric?” Bee asked, tugging at the hem of her light pink blouse.

Look, I’d love to tell you I was totally disgusted by the fried food on display, but A) some of those trucks were raising money for various charities and schools, and B) deep-fried Oreos were sent from heaven to prove God loves us.

“Yes, please,” I told Bee. “Preferably something covered in powdered sugar.”

She laughed at that again, and started tugging me toward the cotton candy machine. As we made our way down the midway, I bumped into someone, and I turned, an apology already on my lips.