“Sure.”

We go up to the concession stand and I order three funnel cakes, a frozen banana—they don’t have any non-chocolate covered ones—and six foot-long corn dogs.

“Are we feeding an army?” Bran jokes.

He might be sweet on Hartley, but he’s not very observant. Hartley was licking her lips when Ella was ordering food. When her tongue darted out, my knees got weak. Sadly, I know that look of hunger wasn’t for me but for food.

“You can never have enough carnival food.”

“True.”

As we wait at the counter, Bran shoves his hands in his pockets and gives me an awkward look. “Be honest, Royal—is it cool that I’m here with Hartley?”

I stiffen. The way he says that, it’s like he thinks they’re on a date or some shit. Are they? They showed up separately, I know that for a fact. Hartley came on the bus, and Bran drove up in his Dodge. But that doesn’t mean much. They could’ve still talked about it being a date sometime between when school ended and we all arrived here.

Does he have her phone number?

Jealousy burns at my insides. He fucking better not.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Somehow I manage to put on the most casual of tones.

He shrugs. “I dunno. You just seem really protective of her.”

“We’re friends. I’m protective of all my friends.”

“Same.” He smiles and invites me to smile with him, but all my humor’s in my shoes at this moment.

“You really interested in Hartley?” Bran seems like a decent guy and he’s the only player on our team who can throw the ball, but that doesn’t mean he should be sniffing around my girl.

“Maybe? She seems like a cool girl.”

“You shouldn’t date anyone your senior year, because that relationship won’t last,” I inform him.

Bran arches an eyebrow. “You write an advice column on the side, Royal?”

It’s hard to hold back a blush, but I manage it. Years of not caring what anyone thinks helps.

“Yeah, it’s called Dear Man Who Knows Better Than Me. I’m here to help you not make a fool of yourself.”

“And you’re saying that pursuing Hartley is going to make a fool out of me?” He looks amused.

“I’m saying she’s not interested.”

“I’ll take my chances.” He grabs a funnel cake. “But thanks for the advice.”

I’ve got no good response, so I keep my mouth shut as we return to the girls. By the time we reach them, the crowd has swelled to more than a dozen—most of them friends of Felicity’s.

“It looks like half the senior class came,” Val observes as I start handing out food.

Felicity pats her hair. “I guess word got out that I’m here.”

I stare at her, wondering if she’s being at all ironic, but apparently no. She’s serious. I glance around to see if anyone else is amused by her delusions, but Ella and Hartley are busy scarfing their food. Felicity’s crew is nodding as if her declaration was delivered by an oracle.

Once we’re done eating, Bran suggests going on rides.

“I love the Ferris wheel,” Hartley admits. “I haven’t ridden on one since I was twelve, I think.”

“Rides are for children,” Felicity interjects. “Why don’t you win something for me?”

“And games aren’t for children?” I counter.

“How about a shooting contest?” Tiffany, one of her friends, suggests. “The guys can win us all prizes.”

Felicity claps her hands. “Yes! Come on, Easton. You can win me something to make up for not paying my admission.” She loops her hand around my elbow and tugs me toward the games.

“How about you?” Bran says to Hartley. “Should I win you something?”

“Oh no. I don’t need anything,” she protests.

Damn right. If anyone is going to win Hartley a prize, it’s me. She’s my friend.

“How about we win our own prizes,” Ella suggests dryly.

As Felicity and the other girls chorus their dismay, Hartley gives a thumbs-up. She, Ella, and Val separate from the group, wandering off toward a booth where some jackass is offering to guess everyone’s weight. Kinda rude, if you ask me.

I try to follow them, but Felicity grabs my arm again.

“I’m getting real tired of that.” I stare pointedly at her hand.

“Of what?”

Gently, but firmly, I extract myself from her grip. “How far are you going to take this?”

She plants her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

I stifle a shout of frustration. “Felicity. Listen to me. I was drunk when I agreed to your proposition. I didn’t even remember seeing you when I woke up the next morning.”

“Well, you did see me, and you said you’d be my boyfriend, so tough cookies, Easton Royal. This is happening.”

“Look, you’re a nice girl,” I choke on the lie. “You don’t want me as your boyfriend, fake or otherwise, okay? I’m a terrible person, and on top of that, I’m pretty damn lazy. You need to find someone else to hitch your wagon to.”

Her hands slide up from her hips to cross tightly across her rack. Huh. I never noticed her chest before. Probably because I never cared enough to check her out.

“No,” she says.

“No?”

“No. I’ve already announced we’re a couple and so we’re a couple. I don’t care if you’re rude or insulting. Your bad behavior will only result in sympathy for me.”

Holy mother of God. She’s clearly not right in her head. “I’m not doing this. Period. Like, honestly, I don’t know what else to say or how many other ways to put it. I’m not playing along.”

“Yes, you are.”

I take a few steps away. I’m done with this conversation.

“Because if you don’t,” she adds, “I’m going to make Hartley’s life miserable.”

I stick my tongue in the side of my cheek and pray for a little patience. After all, I did agree to this stupid charade in the first place, even if I don’t have the clearest memory of doing so.

I walk back to her, trying to appeal to her rational side. “Let’s be reasonable. Why don’t you dump me? You can say I cheated on you or that I’m just too stupid to waste your time on or that I’m bad in the sack. Tell whatever lie you want and I’ll back you up.”

“No.”

Arghhhhhhh. I’m seconds away from slamming my fist into the nearest wall. This girl is batshit crazy.

And if she’s going to be an asshole over this, I can be even worse in return. “Try coming after Hartley and you’ll be crying for mercy within a day,” I say tightly.

Instead of being scared off, Felicity gives me a smug smile. “After I’m done with Hartley, I’ll go after Ella.”

I scoff. This again? No way Felicity takes Ella down. Ella already fought and tamed the meanest girl Astor Park Prep has seen—Jordan Carrington. “I’m not interested in the games you want to play, babe. And Ella’s strong enough to stand up to you.”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” With the same sick grin plastered to her face, she saunters off to join her friends.

Swallowing a groan, I stick my hands in my pockets and watch my classmates play a bunch of games. Bran’s playing the basketball game and draining shot after shot. There are several girls gathered around him, cheering him on.

Hmmm.

The sight of their obvious adoration for Astor Park’s newest athlete gives me an idea.

If Felicity wants to be on the top of the social chain, then it makes sense for her to hook up with Bran. Despite his lack of money, he’s good looking and, most importantly, he’s our quarterback. Everybody loves a quarterback. Hell, even Hartley thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips. All I need to do is convince Felicity that Bran’s a better catch than me.

And, fine, if Bran getting with Felicity also keeps him away from Hartley, that’s just a silver lining.

I totally don’t have an ulterior motive or anything.