Page 17 of The Hotshot vs The Reporter

He just laughs, and we go into a room I don’t think is the main bedroom. There’s not much in here but a nicely made bed and a dresser, which he goes to and digs around in before pulling out a worn t-shirt, a pair of joggers, and then finds some ratty old sneakers.

“These should work. I wore them my freshman year.”

He holds the clothes—if that’s really what we’re going to call them—out to me, and I take them. The shirt is a little worn, but there are no holes, and it has a very simpleTexason the front of the dark gray cotton. The joggers are dark black and seem clean and soft. The sneakers are definitely ratty, but they look like they’ll fit.

“Really?”

“It’s Worlds of Fun. It’s totally fine to not wear a tie.” His words drip with sarcasm, and I huff.

“It’s okay to wear something other than jeans and t-shirt too when you’re over twelve.”

“Just change. Let’s go. I’m getting excited about this now.”

Anyone else, I’d think they were joking. But Royal—I see a flicker of excitement in those eyes, and I can’t help but wonder if maybe he’s going to show me a different side of himself.

“Fine,” I concede and head into the small bathroom in the corner of the room, closing the door and taking care to not mess up my hair as I dress in the clothes that make me feel like I’m going to sleep rather than going out in public.

But it’s fine. I can do this for the story.

I can dress down a little. No big deal. Although, I do feel a little twitchy as I walk out of the bathroom and am met by Royal, whose eyes run over my attire. He grins wide, like the asshole he is.

“I know I look ridiculous.”

He chuckles. “You look like you’re going to a pajama party.”

“That’s it.” I start back into the bathroom. “I can wear a suit to Worlds of Fun.”

“No, wait.” He grabs my arm, and I swear for the briefest moment, I feel an electric shock crackling beneath the surface where his fingers touch my flesh. My eyes snap to his, and I notice his pupils are blown wide, and his lips are parted in what looks like shock.

Does he feel it too?

He drops my arm and takes a step back, his face contorted with confusion before he clears his throat and pushes his fingers through his hair. “You look good. You, um...” He clears his throat again. “You should be comfortable. We should go.”

I want to argue with him. I want to go change back into the clothes I’m used to, but I’m struck dumb for a moment and just decide to follow him downstairs instead, leaving my clothes in the bathroom.

I’ll grab them later.

“I’m driving,” he announces.

“No way,” I instantly retort.

“What?” He looks so offended, it actually makes me laugh. “I’m the professional.”

“You’re a professional who likes to go two hundred miles per hour in circles. I’d like to make it there in one piece.”

We head for the front door, and I grab my keys out of the pocket of the borrowed sweats, where I also had to put my wallet and phone. These pants are ridiculous.

I unlock my car, and his grumpy ass grumbles the whole time as he climbs in the passenger seat and buckles up.

I drive us toward Worlds of Fun, which isn’t far from his house. But the whole time, he’s busy bitching about how slow I’m driving—which is right at the speed limit—and ordering me to pass theslow-asspeople, who are again going... the speed limit.

Though, when we finally get there and park, his mood brightens considerably, and I have to double my walking speed to keep up with him. He pays for our tickets, even though I tried to object, and when we’re through the gates, his eyes go wide as he looks around.

“Okay, so what do you want to do first?”

“I, uh...” I look around at the brightly colored park. I haven’t been here since I was a kid, but I swear it still looks the same. “I don’t care. Whatever you want.”

He’s off before I finish the sentence, and I follow him to a long-ass line where he’s already waiting. I stand next to him and see the line is for bumper cars.

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