A Tale of Two Centuries

Needing to concentrate—and to not be distracted by Austin’s temptingly sinful grin—I squeeze my eyes shut.

Does it really matter if I break a few modern-day rules?

My time here is finite. Four days have passed since I arrived in the twenty-first century, and I have already passed my first marker. Shouldn’t I spend the remainder of my time embracing every moment, not bored behind a disagreeable desk, listening to concepts I cannot fully comprehend?

I bite my lip, unsure if I am more excited or shocked at my own thoughts—or if they are even truth or merely an excuse to be alone again with Austin. I glance at the emptying hallway.

With a teasing wiggle of my eyebrows and an eager smile at my tempter, I take off running.

…

Austin gets out of the truck and stretches, the hem of his faded blue T-shirt lifting. A strip of bare flesh—the same flesh I openly gawked at yesterday—peeks from underneath, but even though my eyes got their fill then, I steal another quick, swoon-worthy glance. Then, with a mouth gone dry, I turn away from the enticing sight and gaze upon my death instead.

Across the crowded parking lot sits Rush, an outdoor wonder otherwise known as an amusement park, evidently home to much more than just the Lethal Xperience. As I gaze out…and up…from the relative safety of my seat at the wide array of supposed enjoyment, I come to the decision that people of the twenty-first century have entirely too much free time on their hands.

Where I come from, in the rare moment when we are without duty, we create art or sing songs or even talk. We do not search for creative ways to defy nature and call it fun.

Austin opens my door and chuckles. “Let me explain how this works. In order to ride the roller coaster, one must get out of the vehicle. It doesn’t come to you.”

I suck my teeth and wonder again how I can find such arrogant behavior appealing. It must be a sickness.

“Hi-larious,” I mumble, a sarcastic expression I overheard Cat tell her father last night. I did not quite get it then, but it sure feels as though it fits now. Austin smirks. Heaving a sigh of resignation at my fate, I step onto the cracked asphalt.

He grabs my hand, most likely to ensure I don’t wander off or make an escape. But the heat of his skin centers me, bringing all my attention away from my frazzled nerves and onto my pounding, frantic pulse.

The towering structures grow in size with each additional step we take toward the gate. When we reach the front, Austin behaves like a gentleman for once and purchases our tickets, and I crane my neck up.

My, that is high.

I imagine my cousin asking, What have you gotten yourself into now, girlfriend? And the truly horrible part is that I don’t even know how to answer.

What have I gotten myself into?

I still firmly believe that Austin will never let anything happen to me, but it is quite clear we view danger very differently.

A hand touches the small of my back, and suddenly he is ushering me inside.

Without stopping or even slowing his stride, he grabs a map from a vendor and flips it open. “So Lethal Xperience is at the back of the park. We’ll hit that first and then make our way up to the front.”

He seems unaware that the length of his legs far exceeds my own. As I frantically attempt to match his stride, I must pant or wheeze because he finally looks down at me, no doubt pink-faced and wide-eyed both from the sensory overload surrounding us and my huffing at a near jog to stay beside him. He grins. “Try to keep up, Short Stuff.”

I grit my teeth with determination and somehow keep myself from muttering, Yes, Master. But the thought still makes me smile. Cat must be rubbing off.

We pass a circular ride filled with fake horses going up and down. Giggling and drooling children clap their adorable hands from their belted saddles while a spirited tune blares overhead. Just past that is a miniature roller coaster made to look like a giant, happy centipede. The child in the front seat waves to his mother as the cart dips, and his squeal of joy tails behind him. It’s too bad that not all roller coasters can be five feet tall.

Then I get a wicked idea.

Austin believes I am a child, naive and boring, and, it would seem, without any humor. This second challenge is supposed to be about fun, and nothing—not even the lead role in a prestigious play with a crowd of a thousand—will give me more joy than turning the tables on him, even if only for a moment.

Looking back at the children’s ride, I grab Austin’s elbow and say innocently, “Is this not the roller coaster you are looking for?”

He stops rather abruptly and peers at me through squinted eyes. “You know, it’s like you look normal…” He trails off, points a long, tan finger at the centipede ride, and in a tone dripping with condescension explains, “Less, Arthropod Picnic is a kiddie ride. It’s made for pint-sized ankle-biters ages three and under.”

I try my best to look disappointed. I do everything I can to contain my mounting delight. But after no more than a few brief moments, I let forth a victorious giggle.

Realization dawns on his face. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

When I nod, he chuckles. He leans back on his heels and lets his gaze travel over my body. Humor dissipates as my skin prickles to life. On Austin’s slow ascent back up, he pauses to look me in the eye, and an emotion crosses his face. It’s so fleeting—gone and there in an instant—that I cannot catch it.

“So, you think you’re ready to play at the big girl table now.” The left side of his mouth kicks up in a grin. “We’ll just have to see about that.”

The apparent taunt and Austin’s added wink spur me on.

This is my chance to prove to him that I’m not the timid girl I once was. To prove to myself that I’m no longer the child of my youth but a woman ready for the future.

I sashay toward a person dressed as a shiny nugget of gold posing for pictures with children, feeling Austin watching me, his gaze on my every step like a physical touch. My legs feel wobbly under my skirt, but an energizing spark ignites in my blood. I glance over my shoulder, confirming I have his complete attention, and then with an outward shrug (and an inner dance), I reply with every ounce of confidence I can muster, “Yes. We will.”

Austin’s smile widens. The sounds and patrons of the park fade away, and it is as if we are the only two around. I don’t know what is happening…I scarcely even recognize myself in this moment. Being with Austin does that. It turns me into someone else.

And I like who I become.

I watch his slow saunter, my body poised with tension. I don’t know what is going to happen next, but I wouldn’t trade the delicious expectation for anything. Austin doesn’t stop until he is right in front of me, close enough that I have to look up to meet his demanding blue gaze, and so close that warmth fans across my face as he says in a low voice, “Careful, girl. You’re playing with fire.”

“I’ve been careful my whole life,” I tell him, surprising myself with the resentment ringing in my tone. But it’s the truth. “And you know, I think it’s about time for me to be a little…” I bite the corner of my bottom lip, searching for exactly the right word to describe the emotions and thoughts that have surfaced the last few days. When I find it, I smile and wiggle my eyebrows suggestively “Wild.”

Austin sucks in a breath. He searches my eyes, and I boldly stare back, praying that he cannot see my knees shaking. Then, obviously concluding that I meant every word, he flashes his devilish grin. “I can work with that.”

Chapter Sixteen

The coaster chugs up the steel tracks inch by inch. Anticipation, fear, and unbridled excitement roil in my gut. Without thinking, I reach out and latch onto Austin’s arm. He gently threads his fingers through mine, and I