Page 85 of Star-Crossed
“Might at least be worth considering,” he said.
Their eyes locked, and Cy was afraid that, for once, he knew the answer before she did.
Lyra McKendrick couldn’t stay here.
Shouldn’tstay here.
As much as she might even want to make this place her home, convince herself it would be enough, time would wear those mantras thin.
Cy should know. The very same thing had happened to him.
And however much Lyra’s presence here had helped him forget that, he’d be damned before he damnedherto the same fate.
“Want to get back?” she asked.
Cy nodded, but the smile he plastered on his face felt brittle, in imminent danger of shattering to reveal the roiling brew of disappointment and resignation below.
“Hey, look!” Lyra said, pointing to a nearby booth. “They’re doing face painting. Want to top this night off by getting a completely irrelevant symbol smeared on our faces in pore-clogging and irresponsibly sourced paints?”
“Or we could try the haunted house,” Cy suggested.
Not so much a house as a rambling mechanized maze, the structure was a Horrorween Fest staple. Though the withered mannequin vampires and dusty zombies that popped out of random cupboards as the creaky carts passed needed updating about three decades ago, Cy had always dreamed of riding it with a girlfriend.
Mostly because the darkened corridors made for the perfect make-out spot. For about three minutes, anyway.
“You’re on,” Lyra said, allowing him to lead her in that direction.
Canned thunder sounds interspersed with emphysematous howls greeted them as they stepped up to the ticket booth.
“Creep it real,” the young attendant said, sounding bored as she tore their tickets.
Cy and Lyra stepped into the next carriage and pulled the padded safety bar across their laps. Their heads nearly knocked together when the cart lurched forward.
Doors bearing a purposely sloppyEnter if you dare!!!swung open at the last second.
And whether the interior had been upgraded, or Cy’s cupcake had officially kicked in, he was mesmerized.
Glowing lines described the silhouette of a sprawling Victorian mansion, its many windows flickering with mournful faces. Overhead, a chandelier with drippy tapers rocked and swayed, sending its crystal pendants madly tinkling.
“Whoa,” Lyra whispered next to him.
Okay, so it was the cupcakes, probably.
“Crazy, right?” Cy asked.
But no sooner had the question left his lips than a pale fist punched through the wall, causing Lyra to nearly leap into his lap.
Which was pretty much exactly how he’d imagined this happening when he was in high school. The reality of it proved to be a thousand times better.
So much better that by the time they came up for air, they were nearly to the end of the ride. As witnessed by the werewolf that leapt out in front of their cart.
Not that either of them saw this as a reason to halt their passionate lip lock.
“Aww, come on!” a muffled voice growled through the mask. “I only have one line.”
Cy and Lyra reluctantly separated.
“Go ahead, then,” he said, covertly adjusting the lacing on his too-tight breeches.
