Page 33 of Passenger Princess

“What?”

“No, you’re not leaving this trail. We’re sticking to the schedule. Plus, the lookout trail is taped off.” He says it like I’m an idiot and missed the yellow caution tape. But unless it’s on a crime scene, I always see that kind of thing as a suggestion. Like,use caution when you go down this trail.

“It’s just a suggestion,” I say with a roll of my eyes.

“It’s not, and you’re not going. Recent storms have degraded the lookout point, making the area smaller to stand on.” I saw that as well while searching, but it didn’t say it was impossible to stand on, just that crowds were discouraged.

“Have you always been this boring?”

“Yes,” he replies instantly, and I roll my eyes.

“Come on. It would be a quick little diversion. Please?” I give him best puppy dog eyes, but they fail because he’s not even deigning to look at me. “Fine. I’m just going to go on my own then.” I speed up and move a bit toward the turn-off up ahead.

“Absolutely not,” he says, voice firm. I turn around, walking backward, and smiling at him as I do.

“A quick little detour. Nothing crazy.”

“Stay on the trail, Ava,” Jaime says through gritted teeth.

“Or what?” I ask, with a small smile on my lips.

“Or what?”

“Stay on the trail or what, Jaime?” Even through his sunglasses, a million answers cross his face, as if he can’t decide how to answer. I wish he’d give me his first thoughts rather than working them through seventeen filters before letting one through. I think things would get a whole lot more interesting if he did.

“Empty threats,” I whisper before I look behind him, then turn to look forward to where the other girls are distracting the media.

The perfect chance for space. Freedom.

I smile wide at Jaime, and then Irun.

SEVENTEEN

JAIME

One moment, Ava is walking backward in front of me, smiling wide and teasing me as seems to be her way, and the next, she’s gone, her pink skirt drifting up on the breeze as she speeds down a smaller trail.

“Ava!” I say, trying not to catch the attention of the paparazzi in front of us but also trying to stop her. All I need is for Greg to find out I let my assignment run off on my watch and for a newspaper to splash it everywhere.

Lookoutimplies a cliff, and the way Ava is, I wouldn’t be surprised if her impulsivity got her hurt one day. My luck, it would happen on my watch.

I can see the headlines now:Miss Americana Sweetheart Dies a Gruesome Death After Fleeing Bodyguard.

With that image in mind, I make a split decision and run after her.

I move quickly, pivoting off the trail and toward her, but she’s faster than I would have thought. She weaves between trees, the little bows in her hair bouncing with each graceful step she takes over rocks and dodging low-hanging branches. She keeps looking over hershoulder at me, smiling as she does, and each time, it both angers me and turns me on in a way itabsolutelyshould not.

The trees open up ten feet ahead of her, and beyond that, it looks open, sending my heart thundering as she continues to look over at me instead of forward.

“Ava, stop!” I say louder this time, not worried about anyone hearing. “Slow down!”

“Catch up, old man!” She breaks past the trees, and there's fifty, maybe one hundred feet of stone before it ends, leaving open air.

Something snaps in me, my legs pumping faster as I bolt toward her. I’m no longer thinking about a headline, my job, or Greg's disappointment if something happens. I’m just thinking about Ava, gorgeous, pretty, sweet Ava, getting hurt.

If she won’t worry about her well-being, I’ll have to do it enough for the both of us.

She slows as I near, jumping and twirling and twisting like she’s doing one of the dances her friend taught her on a stage instead of at the edge of a cliff, and each move, each turn of her sneaker in loose stones has me panicking. One wrong slip, and?—

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