Carnival Confessions.

(MAKAIRA'S POV)

I didn't know what had come over Slade.

One moment he was complaining about boredom and checking his emails, the next he was squaring up to this Harry guy like he was about to start a fistfight over a stuffed bear.

"Step back." Slade's voice had been cold as ice, his jaw set in that rigid way I was starting to recognize meant he was holding something back.

I opened my mouth to say something—to tell him it was fine, that I didn't actually care that much about the toy—but the words died in my throat when I saw the look in his eyes.

He was furious.

Not at me, I realized. At Harry. At the way Harry had looked at me, the way he'd kissed my hand, the way he'd called me beautiful.

"Slade—" I started, but he wasn't listening.

He was already at the counter, slapping down money for the game. The attendant, a bored-looking teenager with acne and a nose ring, perked up when she saw the cash.

"Three rounds each," Slade said without looking at her. "We'll see who gets the highest score."

Harry laughed, but there was something sharp underneath it. "You're on, Horton. Hope you've been practicing in that ivory tower of yours."

Slade said nothing. He just picked up the bow like he'd been born holding it, nocked an arrow with practiced ease, and let it fly.

Bullseye.

My jaw dropped.

Harry's face went pale.

"Your turn," Slade said flatly, stepping aside.

Harry recovered quickly, flashing me a grin that was probably supposed to be charming. "Watch and learn, beautiful."

He took his position, drew back, and released.

The arrow hit the ring just outside the center.

Not bad. Not great either.

"Lucky shot," Harry muttered, reaching for another arrow.

The next three rounds went similarly. Slade hit the bullseye every single time. Harry got closer on his last attempt—nearly dead center—but it wasn't enough.

"Looks like I'm winning the toy," Slade said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

He walked over to the prize rack without waiting for a response, his eyes scanning the stuffed animals until they landed on a small brown bear with a red bow around its neck. He grabbed it and walked back to me, shoving it into my hands.

"Here."

I stared down at the bear, then up at him. "You... you did all this for a teddy bear?"

His expression flickered—something vulnerable crossing his features before he locked it down. "You said you wanted one."

"But you hate games. You hate carnivals. You—" I stopped myself, realizing I was rambling. "Thank you, Slade."

His name felt strange on my tongue. Intimate.

He cleared his throat, looking away. "Don't mention it."

"Not a bad shot, Horton," Harry said, his tone grudging. "Didn't know you had it in you."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Oz." Slade's voice was clipped, dismissive. "Now if you'll excuse us, we were just leaving."

He reached for my arm—the same arm I'd been holding onto earlier—and guided me away from the stand. I let him, too stunned to protest.

---

The car ride home was quiet.

Slade stared out the window, his profile sharp against the dim light of the setting sun. I clutched the teddy bear in my lap, running my fingers over its fur.

"You didn't have to do that," I said finally.

"Do what?"

"Compete with him. Make a scene. You obviously don't like him, and I—"

"Can we not talk about it?"

His voice was strained. I fell silent, watching him.

He was so closed off, this boy. A fortress of cold looks and clipped words. But I'd seen glimpses of something else tonight. Something almost... protective.

"Is he your rival?" I asked softly. "Harry?"

Slade let out a humorless laugh. "Something like that."

"He called me beautiful."

Slade's jaw tightened. I saw his hands clench into fists at his sides.

"He's a lech," Slade said through gritted teeth. "He does that with every pretty girl he sees. You're not special to him."

Ouch.

I felt the words like a slap. Not special. Just another girl he'd flirted with.

"Is that why you stepped in?" I asked, hating how small my voice sounded. "Because you thought he was bothering me?"

Slade turned to look at me then, and something in his expression shifted. Softened.

"No," he said quietly. "I stepped in because I couldn't stand the way he was looking at you."

My heart stuttered in my chest.

"What?"

He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly looking exhausted. "Forget it, Makaira. It doesn't matter."

"It does matter." I leaned forward, clutching the bear tighter. "Tell me why."

He stared at me for a long moment. The tension in the car was thick enough to cut.

"Because you're not just any pretty girl," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're mine."

I blinked. "What?"

Slade leaned back in his seat, turning away from me again. "Forget I said that."

"No, Slade—"

"We're here."

I looked out the window and saw that we'd pulled up to my aunt's house. How had the drive gone so fast?

When had everything gotten so complicated?

---

We got out of the car in silence. Slade walked me to the front door, his hands shoved in his pockets, his gaze fixed somewhere over my shoulder.

"Thank you for today," I said, clutching the bear like a lifeline. "For the carnival. For... everything."

"You don't need to thank me."

"I know I don't. But I want to."

He finally looked at me, and the intensity in his eyes made me catch my breath.

"Goodnight, Makaira."

"Goodnight, Slade."

I waited for him to turn and leave. Instead, he just stood there, looking at me. I looked back, unable to look away.

And then, before either of us could say another word, the front door swung open.

"Kaira! There you are!"

Aunt Shanice stood in the doorway, her face split in a warm smile. Her eyes moved between the two of us, and I saw understanding dawn there.

"Oh," she said, her smile turning knowing. "Slade. I didn't realize you were bringing her home."

"I was just leaving," Slade said quickly. "Goodnight, Mrs. Shanice."

He didn't look at me again as he walked back to the car. Didn't say goodbye. Just left.

I watched his taillights disappear down the street, a strange ache blooming in my chest.

"Come inside, dear," Aunt Shanice said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "You look like you have a lot to tell me."

I did.

But I had no idea where to start.

---

(SLADE'S POV)

I drove home in a daze.

You're mine.

Those words had slipped out before I could stop them. I'd been so focused on Oz and his wandering eyes, so consumed by the need to stake a claim, that I'd completely lost control.

I slammed my hand against the steering wheel.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

She probably thought I was insane now. Some possessive, unhinged jerk who couldn't handle another man looking at her.

But it wasn't just about Oz.

It was about her. All of her. The way she laughed at the Ferris wheel, the way her eyes lit up at the sight of stuffed animals, the way she'd held onto my arm like she needed me.

I'd never needed anyone. Had never wanted to.

And now I was drowning in it.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

Unknown Number: Thank you for the bear. I'll treasure it. ❤️

My heart stopped.

I hadn't given her my number.

I parked the car, staring at the message. How had she—?

Another buzz.

Unknown Number: Aunt Shanice gave me your number. Hope that's okay.

I stared at the screen for a long moment. Then I typed back:

Me: It's fine.

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Unknown Number: Why did you say that? In the car?

Unknown Number: About me being yours?

I gripped my phone so hard I thought it might crack.

Me: I shouldn't have said that. Forget it.

Unknown Number: I don't want to forget it.

Unknown Number: I don't think I could even if I tried.

I let out a shaky breath.

What was she doing to me?

Me: Go to sleep, Makaira.

Unknown Number: Only if you promise to talk to me tomorrow. Without trying to run away.

I almost laughed. Almost.

Me: Fine. Goodnight.

Unknown Number: Goodnight, Slade. Dream of me?

I didn't respond to that.

But I did.

I absolutely did.

---

[END OF CHAPTER]