“This guy right here used to scare the shit out of me,” I tell her as we reach the amusement park entrance. I point up to the Pacific Park sign and the giant, freakish purple octopus that wraps around it. I don’t know why, but I hate the damn thing. “It still kind of does,” I admit, and I shove my hands into my pockets as we head on inside.
“Ahhh,” Eden says with a teasing edge to her voice. “Not so badass anymore, are you?”
“Well,” I say, “would a badass tell you that he’s in love with cotton candy?” I grab my wallet and lead her over to the nearest food stall that is selling a wide array of amusement park favorites including, of course, cotton candy. When I was younger, way back when things with Dad were good, he would take my brothers and me down to the pier every once in a while, and he’d buy us cotton candy once we got bored of messing around in the arcade. It’s one of the few memories I actually like, so it doesn’t bring my mood down as I buy Eden and me some.
“Are you sure youusedto love this place?” she asks me as I pass her the stick of cotton candy. Her hazel eyes are sparkling as she watches my expression, and I realize that maybe I am smiling too wide. Even though Pacific Park is for kids, I do still like it. I’ll never admit to it though.
“We need to go on the coaster,” I say as I shove a wad of cotton candy into my mouth, changing the subject. It melts on my tongue, and I set off again, searching for someplace to sit down while Eden follows close behind me.
I love the sound of the roller coaster clattering around its track above us, the ocean breeze that whistles around us, the laughter that fills the air. There’s something so…happyabout the pier. The street performers over on the boardwalk. The sun setting behind the mountains. It’s real nice just sitting here on a bench in the middle of it all, eating cottoncandy with Eden right next to me. We’re quiet as we eat, and I realize that although we are relaxed and playful, there is also a more serious matter at hand.
“Eden,” I say quietly, angling my jaw toward her. She places the final piece of cotton candy on her tongue, and she stares back at me, her expression calm. I frown. “I wouldn’t mention this to anyone. It’s just easier if we, um…keep this whole thing a secret for now. God, please say you’re good at keeping secrets.”
Her expression changes slightly, like she is realizing too that what we’re doing here isn’t exactly right, and in more ways than one. “I am,” she says after a moment of silence. She offers me a small smile. “And I know that you’re good at keeping secrets, because you clearly have a lot of them.”
Oh, she does know me so well. Idohave many secrets, and no matter how desperately she tries to crack them, most of them will remain that way. All I can do is smirk back at her,daringher to even attempt to figure me out, and I toss the remainder of my cotton candy into my mouth, then get to my feet. “It’s time for these guys,” I tell her, then point out the rides around us.
And so we set off again, working our way around the park over the course of the evening, getting tokens for rides and standing in line and murmuring our thoughts at one another. At one point or another, I just stop caring entirely about the crowds around us, and I focus solely on Eden at every moment. We are carefree and laughing, and it seriously feels good just to chill out for once and be myself. I don’t want the night to end, but eventually, we leave the park and make our way along the boardwalk toward the parking lot. I love the pier at night when it’s dark. Everything is lit up and you can hear the soft roll of the waves below.
When we get back to my car, there are a couple people snapping pictures of it, but when they see us approaching, they quickly walk away. I roll my eyes and unlock the car, and both Eden and I slide inside. I’m used to the attention. It’s why I bought the damn thing in the first place.The guy with the nice car has his life figured out.
“It happens all the time,” I tell Eden as I run my finger around the Audi badge on my steering wheel, frowning.The guy with the nice car is happy. “I don’t know why. It’s LA. There’s, like, Lambos and shit on every corner in Beverly Hills.”
“How did you even get this car?” she asks, narrowing her eyes curiously at me, and it’s a fair question. People ask it all the time, and usually, I just shrug and tell them the truth. Or at least half of it.
“Because I got my trust fund early,” I finally say. I’m still staring at my steering wheel, slumped back in my seat and running my hands around its edge. “And when you suddenly have all this money, you’re not really going to be rational about it, are you? I’m a teenager, of course I’m gonna go out and blow it all on a sports car.”And it was a stupid idea.
“Why’d you get it early?”
“Because apparently money can make you feel better,” I mutter without thinking, and I immediately freeze. I shouldn’t be talking about this to anyone, but…she asked. And maybe, for once, I should be a little more honest. Bottling everything up hasn’t done many favors for me, and Eden at least seems genuinely interested, like she actuallycares. “It’s a big trust fund,” I say after a minute. “I mean, my mom’s an attorney and my dad… My dad had his own company. Structural engineering. All up and down the West Coast.” I swallow the lump in my throat as I look sideways at her. I feel sick just talking about it, but I need to at leasttrythe honest route. Mom always says talking about it would help, but I’ve never believed her.
“What was it called?”
“Grayson’s,” I say slowly, my tone hardening. Hearing that name…our name… It breaks me. It brings back too many memories of him, of the family that we used to be. “Because we were the Graysons.”
Eden must sense that I’m uncomfortable, because she angles her body to face me as she pulls her legs up onto the seat and crosses them. Her gaze never leaves mine and she offers me a few moments of silence before she asks, “Before the divorce?”
“Before the divorce,” I repeat. Before everything went wrong. I look away from her again, out to the thinning crowd of people mulling around the parking lot, and I slide further down in my seat and pull at my hair. It’s a habit I have learned from Dad. “I used to be Tyler Grayson. Mom didn’t want us to keep his name.”
Eden goes quiet. I don’t think she knows what to say, but I don’t need her to say anything at all. Just being able to talk about these things while knowing that someone is listening is enough. I can’t tell her anything more though. At least not now. I don’t do this whole opening-up thing, so it’s hard enough as it is just talking about the basic, factual stuff like my previous damn surname, let alone my secrets. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to share them, and I still haven’t figured out whether or not I even want to. It would make me vulnerable, and when Dad was arrested five years ago, I promised myself that I would never again allow myself to become vulnerable.
Eden is staring at me intensely, her gaze on my mouth. Silence surrounds us. Slowly, I sit up and lean toward her, moving my hand to her knee. I have been dying to touch her again all night, and now I am staring at her mouth too, and I can’t help but lick my lips. My eyes drift back to hers, and I dare myself to murmur, “Can I kiss you again?”
Suddenly, Eden gets up and climbs across the center console, swingingher body on top of mine. She straddles my lap, pressed between my body and my steering wheel, and she looks down at me with those wide, glistening hazel eyes of hers, and her plump lips are innocently parted. Her hands are pressed to my chest, and I don’t know where all of this confidence has come from, but it is the most attractive thing in the world.
I move my hands to her face, cupping her cheeks and winding my fingers into her hair as I press my lips to hers. Every time feels even more amazing than the last, and I just can’t get enough of her. I kiss her fast again, as best I can, showing her absolutely everything that I’ve got. My hands are in her hair, around her back, over her waist. After a minute, I tear my lips away from her mouth and tilt her chin up, moving her hair to one side as I move to her neck instead. I leave a path of kisses across her skin, breathing her in.
She is pressing her body into mine and running her hands through my hair, and then suddenly she reaches for my jaw and lifts my head back up as she leans in closer, her mouth hovering by my ear. Her breath is hot against my skin as she whispers, “You don’t even need to ask.”
43
Five Years Earlier
Dad and I are wearing matching personalized 49ers jerseys that sayGraysonon the back. He got them for us as a surprise, presenting me with them right before the game, and now we are sporting them proudly at the stadium. The game is well underway, and the 49ers have the lead with the Chargers trailing behind. It’s my first ever football game and the atmosphere is amazing. The crowd is chanting, the stadium is rumbling. There are thousands upon thousands of people here, all packed in and cheering, and I’m on my feet with Dean by my side, both of us peering down at the field. Hugh takes him to games all the time. I wish my dad did the same.
“Did you see that?” I ask Dean, nudging him eagerly with my elbow. The players down on the field look tiny, so we are mostly watching the game on the screens, running our own personal live commentary. Dean understands football a little better than I do—Hugh lets him play, after all, and he wants to play football in high school—so he keeps explaining different plays to me.
“Yeah! That throw wasinsane!” Dean replies, his mouth wide open as his eyes flit around the field, never leaving the game. “Those are thetype of throws I want to be able to catch.” I lean forward a little and look past him, over to Dad and Hugh, who are sitting talking to one another, laughing and chugging beer out of cheap plastic cups. I’m not even sure if they’re watching the game. I think they’re just enjoying hanging out.
