But then something wraps around my waist, and I jump, sucking in a breath as a voice growls deep in my ear, “Welcome to the Carnival, little girl.”

My heart pounds in my ears, and I yank away, whipping around to find Trey holding a flashlight under his chin. The glow illuminates his face, emphasizing his devilish grin.

Jerk.

He smiles from ear to ear, his light-brown hair and cocoa eyes shining. Dropping the flashlight, he rushes up to me, and I barely have enough time to catch a breath before he dips down, lifts me off my feet, and tosses me over his shoulder.

“Trey!” I growl, his shoulder bone digging into my stomach. “Knock it off!”

He laughs, slapping me on the ass, and I cringe, feeling his hand graze down my thigh.

“Now, dumbass!” I shout, slapping him on the back.

He continues to chuckle as he sets me back on my feet, keeping his arm around my waist.

“Mmmm, come here,” he says as he backs me into the wall of the booth. “So you gotta taunt me, huh?” His knuckles brush the front of my bare thigh. “You wear that little cheerleading skirt at school, where I can’t touch you, and now when I can, you wear shorts.”

“What?” I play with him. “My legs look different in a skirt?”

“No, they look great either way.” He leans in, the beer on his breath making me wince a little. “I just can’t stick my hand up a pair of shorts.”

And then he tries to as if proving a point.

I knock his hands away. “Yeah, the thing is...” I say. “A boy whines. A man doesn’t let anything get in his way. Shorts or no shorts.”

His eyes fall down my body and raise again, boring into mine. “I want to take you out.”

“Yeah, I know what you want.”

Trey’s been flirting for a while, and I know exactly what’s on his mind, and it isn’t dinner and a movie. If I give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. I may not need a ring on my finger to have fun with someone, but I also don’t want to be a notch on his belt.

So I don’t give in to him. But I don’t reject him, either. I know what happened to the last girl who did that.

“You want it, too,” he shoots back, his wide shoulders and hard chest crowding me in. “I’m the shit, baby, and I always get what I want. It’s only a matter of time.”

I stare right through his ego, seeing a guy who toots his own horn, because he’s either afraid others won’t do it for him or he needs to remind himself how awesome he is. Trey Burrowes is a house of bricks balancing on a toothpick.

Something brushes my calf, and I look down just in time to see Ten crawling out from under the gaming booth. I move out of the way and push Trey back, noticing that Ten holds something in his hand.

“I got a sword,” he says, waving the plastic inflatable in front of us.

Trey snickers. “Yeah, me, too.”

And I swallow the bad taste in my mouth at his crude joke.

He turns away, growing quiet, his attention immediately drawn up to the Ferris wheel.

So easily distracted. So easily bored.

“Tell you what,” I say, speaking to Trey as I stroll over and hook an arm through Ten’s. “I’ll let you take Ten home.”

Trey jerks his head over his shoulder, looking at me like I’m crazy.

“And then you can take me home,” I finish, seeing his eyebrow arch in interest.

School ends in six weeks. I can fake this a while longer. I don’t want to go out with him, but I don’t want to wake up tomorrow to a nasty rumor that’s not true plastered all over Facebook, either. Trey Burrowes can be nice, but he can be a real asshole, too.

A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he turns back around.

“All you have to do is catch me,” I tell him, grabbing Ten’s hand. “So count to twenty.”

“Make it five,” Ten jokes, backing away with me. “He doesn’t know how to count to twenty.”

My stomach shakes with a laugh, but I hold it back.

Trey smirks, staring at me like I’m a meal he wants and nothing is going to stop him. And then he opens his mouth, slowly stepping toward us. “One…”

And at that warning, Ten and I spin around and dash for the back of the park.

We both laugh as we race down paths thick with wet leaves and fallen branches, and whip around broken booths. We pass the Orbiter, Log Flume, and Tornado, which I remember used to play a lot of Def Leppard.

The Zipper still stands, dark and rusted, and we weave through the old swings, the cold chains brushing against my arms. They squeak, probably giving away our position as I charge after Ten.

“In here!” he shouts.

I suck in a breath and follow as he dives into a small building that looks like it was meant for employees. Stepping into the darkness, I pull the door closed behind me and wince at the musty air that hits my nose.

Ten takes his phone out, lighting the room with his flashlight, and I do the same. The floor is littered with debris, and I hear a drip coming from somewhere.

But we don’t pause to explore. Ten heads for what looks like a stairwell, rounding the railing and taking a step down.

That’s weird. The stairs lead below, underground.

“Down there?” I breathe out, peering over the steel-green bars and seeing only pitch-black darkness below. Fear creeps in, sending chills down my spine.

“Come on.” Ten begins down the steps. “It’s only a service tunnel. A lot of theme parks have them.”