I take a step forward as the line shuffles a few feet ahead. My phone vibrates in my backpack, and I pull it out.
Unknown Number: Where are you?
I scan the thread to check for any past messages but come up empty. The phone vibrates again before I have a chance to tuck it away in my backpack.
Unknown Number: It’s Rowan.
Really? What does he want?
I’ve been keeping my distance from him for the last few weeks, ever since Ani’s little stint to get us together. I’m afraid I’ll end up doing something I’ll regret. Between the dinner he didn’t need to buy me and the pumpkin carving, I’m losing the battle against staying away from him. Plus, I feel guilty about stringing Scott along while becoming more interested in Rowan.
You’ll have to pick one eventually.
The thought makes my stomach sour. I grind my teeth together as I type out my response.
Me: What do you need?
I update his contact information while I wait for his response.
Lucifer: Where are you?
I roll my eyes at him ignoring my question.
Me: Touring the park.
Lucifer: Try to be a little more specific.
Someone coughs behind me and points to the massive gap of space I left open. I apologize and speed walk through the queue.
Lucifer: I’m losing my patience.
Me: Then go buy some more.
Lucifer: Funny.
I laugh to myself. Him admitting I’m funny makes my heart slam into my rib cage at an uneven pace.
Lucifer: Please tell me where you are?
Me: Look at you using the word please. And people say old dogs can’t learn new tricks.
Good, Zahra. Remind him of your age difference. That should steer him away, given the fact that he’s seven years older than you.
Lucifer: This old dog has plenty of tricks he could teach you.
Did he make a sexual joke? My whole body burns from his reply, and I can’t come to grips with his shift in personality.
Rowan replies again before I have a chance to move past my shock.
Lucifer: That was highly inappropriate.
Me: I think your phone has been hacked.
Lucifer: I can assure you it hasn’t, but I can’t say the same about my brain. I tend to do stupid things around you.
I laugh up to the ceiling, feeling way too giddy from his admission. Given his openness, I throw him a bone.
Me: I’m waiting in line for the Spooky Castle ride.
Lucifer: A line?
Me: Allow me to educate you. A line is a thing that patient people wait in when they can’t afford to purchase the quick skip passes your company sells for the price of a liver.
One look in the direction of the empty quick skip line tells me that other park guests agree with me.
Lucifer: If someone offers you a liver for two hundred dollars, run.
I laugh as I throw my phone in my backpack. A couple standing ahead strikes up a conversation with me. They’re a sweet couple from Kansas who traveled all this way to celebrate their honeymoon. I ask them a few questions, including their favorite and least favorite parts of the park. They share their thoughts, and I write them down on my mini notepad.
“Hey. You can’t skip the line!” a guest calls out behind me.
I turn to find Rowan moving through the line without paying the yelling guests any attention.
How did he get here so fast?
He stops beside me, not even the least bit winded.
“Umm. What are you doing here?” I stare up at him, taking in how ridiculous his suit and Gucci loafers look compared to all of us casually dressed humans.
“You weren’t at the warehouse.”
“Yeah, I took the day off.”
“So Jenny said.”
“Why were you looking for me?” I try to keep my voice neutral but fail.
Rowan smirks at me.
The man behind us taps on his shoulder. “Excuse me. You can’t skip the line. We’ve been waiting here for forty minutes already.”
He sends a withering glance over his shoulder. “I own the place.”
“Yeah, right. And I’m Santa Claus.” The man tugs on his white beard.
“Google the name Rowan Kane. I’ll wait.” Rowan taps his shoe against the floor.
There’s something about Rowan’s voice that makes everyone follow his bidding. It’s oddly fascinating to watch as the man pulls out his cellphone and taps away at the screen.
The man’s scowl drops as the color drains from his face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kane. I didn’t mean to yell at you. We just feel strongly about line skippers here.”
“I’m sure that’s the case with anyone who can’t afford a quick skip pass,” he responds in the driest voice.
My jaw drops open. “You shouldn’t talk to people like that.” I turn around, giving Rowan my back. No wonder everyone avoids him. He has the emotional maturity of a robot and the appeal of rush hour traffic.
The couple from Kansas starts up our conversation again, and I focus on them. Rowan’s loafer taps against the floor as he faces my back. I don’t care if he throws a tantrum. He can wait in the line in silence for all I care.
Rowan sighs so loud, it rattles my bones. Whatever look he shoots toward the couple has them shutting up. They turn around and start chatting with one another, completely ignoring me.
I look over my shoulder to find him staring at me. “Yes?”
“Are you going to finally explain why we’re waiting in a line when we can go ahead and skip everyone?”
“I’m experiencing the park from the perspective of a guest so I can come up with ideas for the very people you’re trying to appeal to.”
“How noble of you.” His nose scrunches. I swear he tried his hardest not to say something insulting this time.
“If you hate the idea so much, then go back to your fancy office. No one asked you to come here. Actually, wait. Why are you here?”
“I—” He pauses. “I don’t know.” His brows draw together.
Whatever is happening in his brain shuts him up. Both of us remain silent while waiting in line, with both of us lost in our thoughts.
Why is he really here, and why does it make me giddy to know he decided to wait in line with me despite hating the idea?
We finally make it to the front of the line after ten minutes. The Spooky Castle ride is one of the classic attractions at Dreamland, based on a haunted castle somewhere in England from one of The Kane Company’s movies. Each cart is shaped like a half-moon, with a black seat large enough to fit three people.
A man dressed in an old-school three-piece suit calls out to us. “How many in your party?”
“One,” I reply at the same time Rowan says, “Two.”
The attendant shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Umm, please hurry. The cart is leaving.”
I rush and enter the small black seat. My temple throbs as Rowan slides in and pulls down the lever, trapping us in the cart together.
“Why can’t you leave me alone?” I croak.
“I wish I knew.” He says the words so low, I wonder if I made them up.
Regardless, I smile at the idea of Rowan wanting to spend more time with me, even if he doesn’t know why.
Rowan spreads his legs to get comfortable. One muscular thigh brushes against mine, and I suck in a breath. I’m not sure what’s scarier. Our cart moving through the creepy darkness or the burst of heat in my belly at Rowan’s closeness.
Definitely Rowan. I shift, moving closer to the end of the seat.
“If you scoot any closer to the edge, you’ll fall out of the cart and get hurt.” He speaks over the haunted sounds.
“I thought you didn’t care?”
“Hmm. Maybe I found some fucks to give after all.”
My chest tightens as I fight my smile.
The cart spits us out into a pitch-black hallway with evil cackling and the moans of ghosts echoing off the walls. Doorknobs rattle while other doors creak open as we move forward at a crawl.
Rowan’s eyes bounce around everywhere as we’re taken through the various rooms of the castle. His eyes widen as he assesses the attic space, where a Gothic bride chants over a coffin. “That’s creepier than I remember.”
I raise a brow. “Aw, are you scared? Want me to hold your hand?”
He rolls his eyes. I find the move so oddly human of him that I end up laughing to myself. The side of his mouth twitches again as he fights a smile, and I mentally dance in celebration.
“When is the last time you rode on this one?” I probe.
His hands tighten on the handlebar in front of us. “When I was ten.”
“Ten?! That’s forever ago.”
“Way to make me feel old.”
My entire body shakes from laughter. “Sorry.”
“I still remember how Cal used to cry every single time. His reaction always made my mom laugh, so we would bully him into doing it with us over and over again.”
I suck in a breath. I’ve never heard him talk about his mom before like this. “That’s sweet that you did that for your mom.”
He coughs. “I doubt Cal would agree.”
“What was her favorite ride?”
“All of them.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. I reach out and grab his tight fist. I’m not sure what I thought to accomplish. Soothe him? Provide comfort? What a ridiculous idea. He doesn’t need that. I remove my hand, but Rowan latches onto it and holds it trapped against the bar. The graze of his thumb across my knuckles sends a spark up my arm.
I gasp. He rears back and releases my hand.
Our cart continues its slow descent into the morbid graveyard. Talking statues and ghouls fly around. One ghost pops up from a gravestone, and Rowan jumps in his seat, smacking his chest against the safety bar in front of us. It groans from his weight but stays in place.
A rush of laughter explodes out of me. Tears form in my eyes, and I can’t blink them away fast enough. “Oh my God. That reaction was totally worth riding with you.”
He turns in his seat. His eyes are lit up by the projector ghosts floating above us. “You’re evil.”
A massive spider drops in front of our cart and Rowan recoils. “Fuck!”
Another laugh erupts from my throat. I’ve never heard him swear before, probably because it would reveal too much about his mood.
His lips form a tight line, but his eyes remain bright.
“You should’ve seen your face. Priceless.”
He shakes his head.
“I think I might have peed a little from laughing so hard.”
“Charming as ever, Zahra.”
Something about the way he says the phrase has me grinning like an idiot.
“I’ve never seen a grown adult react like that on a kid’s ride.” I discreetly dab at the corners of my eyes again.
“You’re not as sweet as everyone thinks you are. Only a wicked woman would call a man out for being afraid like this.”
“Do you think they have it on camera? I’ll buy that insanely overpriced photo in a heartbeat.” My face feels like it might crack in half from how big I’m smiling.
He stares at me for a few seconds before facing forward.
The ride ends too soon. Our cart drags toward the exit and the handlebar lifts, releasing us. Rowan steps out before offering his hand to me.
I stare at it, blinking to check if my eyes are deceiving me. He rolls his eyes once more and grabs my arm, pulling me out before the cart disappears back into the queue. I expect him to let go but he holds on tight as the ride spits us out into a store selling merchandise from the Spooky Castle movie.
“Wait!” I call out as Rowan heads toward the front doors.
He drops my hand, and I walk up to the photo counter. The attendant helps me find the picture I’m looking for.
When he pulls up the image and blows it up, I lose it. My voice becomes hoarse from how hard I laugh.
“Delete it.” Rowan speaks behind me. The warmth of his chest heats my back.
I throw my hand up to stop the employee. “No! Please let me buy it first.” I stare at the photo with longing. I’m an image of grace while Rowan looks about two shades paler with his eyes threatening to burst out of their sockets. And strangest of all, his arm is plastered against my stomach as if he was protecting me. The notion is sweet, and I want a photo to never forget the memory.
I rush to grab my wallet from my purse. Before I have a chance to count my money, Rowan hands the employee a crisp bill over my shoulder. The Dreamland worker prints and wraps the photo up for me.
I turn around and stare at Rowan’s expressionless face. “Why did you pay for it?”
“Because I felt like it.”
His response is meant to throw me off, but I’m onto him. I think Rowan likes me more than he’s willing to let on, even to himself.
