Something in the Way (Something in the Way #1)(15)

She took a step back and sniffed. “Oh. Okay. Will you come with me?”

He glanced briefly at me and back. “No. You can take care of yourself.”

Even with Tiffany’s back to me, I could sense her disappointment. If Manning kept telling her no, it could be good for her. Either she’d learn she couldn’t always get her way or she’d get bored and move on.

Tiffany left in pursuit of something sweet.

Once alone, Manning turned his full attention on me, putting us face to face.

“You’re good with her,” I said, looking up at him.

“Why’s that?”

“Normally, she does the opposite of what people tell her.”

Manning ran a hand through his hair, left it sticking up. I could see him better now in the bright, colorful, blinking lights of the fair. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his white t-shirt, the cuffs hugging his muscles. He had a cigarette behind his ear again, stark against his soft black hair. He could’ve walked straight out of The Outsiders, which I only knew because it’d been on last summer’s reading list.

“She does it on purpose.” I was beginning to notice how Manning’s voice, always deep, seemed to get even lower when he was about to lecture me or impart wisdom. “Don’t let her goad you on. You’re young, and you’re better than what you just said to her. Aren’t you?”

I suddenly felt half my size. Although my dad was demanding, I didn’t often get scolded. Not like Tiffany. I was the good kid. “What does being young have to do with it?” I asked. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Your sister’s different from you. She’s impulsive. She says what pops into her head, but you think things through. I see you. I see you thinking.”

I had no idea what to make of Manning. He was hot and cold. Sometimes, I thought there was something between us, but then he went and treated me like a five-year-old. “Why do you care what I do?” I asked.

He laid a heavy hand on my shoulder and it spanned all the way to my neck. His fingertips brushed my skin, his palm warming me. He shook me gently, my entire body swaying. “I’m not attacking you. All I’m saying is be better than that. We’re at a fair. This is supposed to be fun.”

“For who? I feel like I’m tagging along on one of Tiffany’s dates.”

Manning took his hand back and crooked one corner of his mouth. “Trust me. If this was a real date, you wouldn’t be here. She asked if I wanted to go to a carnival with you guys, and it sounded like the kind of innocent fun I haven’t had in a while.” He nodded backward. “So let’s go on a ride. How about the Ferris wheel?”

I widened my eyes. “I told you I can’t.”

“Nah. You’re scared, but I’m going to go with you. You’ll see there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

My heart raced. Not just because Manning had touched me. Not just because he was looking out for me. Mostly because no part of me wanted to get on that ride, but I was considering it just to have some time alone with him. “What about Tiffany?”

“She’ll find us.”

He strolled away. I had to hurry to keep up. Two kids darted between us, nearly knocking me over. “We can do the bumper cars,” I said. “Those are way more fun.”

He looked sidelong at me. “What scares you about the wheel?” he asked. “You don’t like heights?”

It wasn’t that. I sat on the roof all the time. So what was holding me back? I glanced at the ground as we walked. “I don’t know. What if something happens up there and you can’t get out? How do you know it won’t break down or the seat won’t fall off?”

“You just have to trust it.”

“Trust what?” I asked, pointing to the operator. “That guy looks like he’s in high school. How can he be in charge of lives?”

Manning laughed. “I think I understand the issue.”

I furrowed my brows. “What issue?”

“You don’t like to feel out of control. I’m the same, but you have to know when to let go or you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

Sometimes, Tiffany called Dad a control freak. Nobody had ever referred to me that way, though. I was diligent about my schoolwork and when it came to my future. Did that mean I needed to be in control? I wasn’t sure.

We stopped at the ticket booth. Manning leaned into the window and said, “Two adults.” He looked back at me. “You are an adult, right?”

I frowned. “I don’t know—”

“Fourteen and over,” said the ticket taker.

He handed her a ten. “Then two adults.”

“I mean, I don’t know if I can do it,” I said. “I don’t want you to spend the money if—”

“Don’t worry about the money. But try to look younger next time. Save me a few bucks.”

Because his brows weren’t as low and heavy as usual, I was pretty sure he was teasing me. He didn’t do it often enough for me to know.

As we got in line, I tilted my head back to take in the behemoth of a ride—the creaks of the machinery, the gum-chewing, spaced-out attendant, the kids tilting their car in the sky to see how far forward they could make it swing. Adults just stood around, smiling at them. You had to be a certain height to ride. Manning was probably twice that. Unfortunately, I came in with plenty of room, too.