12. Arielle

twelve

Arielle

My back is a bay of sweat, and it’s refreshing to step out in fresh air. I just completed the most epic bathroom performance of “ Love Shack” that ever went down. There was even a granny in the last stall. Bless her heart, she didn’t ask questions when she came out. She gave me a peace sign and washed her hands while I sang. Of course, I advanced to the next round. Now I have about an hour before the final, final showdown.

As ecstatic as I am that I won my battle round, it broke my heart to see Stallone standing outside the bathroom, looking so downhearted. I feel terrible for ditching him, but I honestly hadn’t thought going to the bathroom would look so suspicious. He clearly is taking it personally, and I need to make it up to him. I link my hand into his arm and gaze up at him. “Tell me about your hobbies. What do you like to do for fun?”

“I’m basically your classic outdoorsman. I love to hunt, fish, hike, kayak, camp, anything of that sort. That’s why I always found Mapleton to be the perfect place for me to live. I have a cabin up in the mountains, and I can literally do it all in my backyard.”

“That sounds amazing. I love hiking and fishing too, but I’ve never been kayaking before.” I bat my lashes. “You might have to teach me.”

“Well, kayaking is something I definitely prefer to do when it’s a little nicer outside, and I’m guessing you’ll be gone by spring . . .” His voice trails off, but his smile lingers on me.

I sigh, adding another inhale afterwards, bringing in enough cool air to relax me even more. “I don’t know where I’ll be this spring,” I answer truthfully. We cross the street where he leads me to his truck parked right outside the coffee shop. It’s so easy to get around here, and there’s virtually no traffic since everything is within walking distance. It’s the opposite of Boston. The air is so fresh and clean here, it’s impossible not to take deep breaths. “I can’t get over how cute this town is.”

“Like I said before, it’s the perfect town for me.” He opens my door, and I hop in while he walks to the other side and gets in. Once inside, he starts the truck and backs up before picking up our conversation. “So, the same question to you.” He nudges my elbow with his. The gentle sign of affection just gets me. I’ve always been a sucker for the little touches. “What are your hobbies?”

“I like to go out.” I stare out the window, watching the cobblestone roads turn to gravel as he winds his way around the outskirts of town and heads to the mountains. I don’t tell him that in the last year I’ve only been out with Tom, and I’ve done a terrible job of keeping friendships.

“Is that all?”

“Ah, family is a big deal to me. My brother, Christian, and I are close, and . . . I love music.”

“What kind of music do you listen to?”

My gaze is still glued to the scenic drive. Since arriving in Mapleton, I’ve only seen the coffee shop and the lodge. It’s breathtaking to see the mountains get closer and closer over the horizon. “Anything really, but I’m a sucker for the oldies, like from the sixties or seventies.”

“For a second there, I thought you’d say oldies from the nineties, and I was going to stop you because that’s my era. I grew up with that stuff.”

I chuckle, sneaking a look at him. “Yeah, I think the nineties is old too, considering I was born in 2003, but I never really got into that decade. There’s so much aggression.”

“Not all of it.” His lips pull to the side as if in a thinking stance. “The nineties also had great ballads. I mean, Celine Dion and Whitney Houston, Boyz II Men, all of that was the nineties.”

“Yeah, I see what you’re saying.” I stuff my hands in my coat pockets as a cold shudder moves through me.

“Are you cold?” He immediately turns the knobs on the heater, cranking it up.

“Thank you.” I look up at him, feeling our magnetism growing even stronger. “This is nice.”

“Are you still feeling okay?”

“I feel great.”

He slows to take a sharp bend in the road, and a vibration tickles my fingertips. My memory is instantly jogged. I was enjoying my date so much I forgot about the final battle round! I whip my phone out of my pocket, and my chest is filled with dread.

I need to sing now!

Five hundred dollars that I could use is on the line. It won’t make me rich, but it will help with all the lost wages.

Christian always teases me about how competitive I am. I never really realized it until now. He’s so right. I have this burning in my core that says I can’t quit now. If I forfeit then my entire day’s work will be lost, and I’m so close to being the ultimate champion. My hand finds the door handle, and I shoot a strained expression to Stallone. “Ah, maybe I need some air. Do you mind pulling over for a second?”

“Here?” One of his brows rises above the other as he steers the truck around the bend. “I can’t pull over here, because it’s too dangerous. Can you roll down the window until I can get to a better spot?”

My phone vibrates again, indicating my genre was named, and I drop my gaze to my lap.

Genre: Nineties

“Stupid nineties,” I mutter, now afraid the app was listening to my earlier conversation. It had to be spying. There’s no way that wasn’t a coincidence.

“What did you say?” Now around the bend, Stallone slows the truck and pulls over to the soft dirt shoulder.

“Nothing,” I assert louder, my fingers itching to open the door. If my calculations are correct, I only have about a minute before my song starts. A row of thick evergreen trees lines the ditch, and they’ll be perfect to tuck behind. I need to run now. “You can stop right here. That’s fine.”

“Can I help you at all or—”

“Nope.” I shove the door open, and drop to the ground, calling back, “I just need three minutes.” I dart forward, but the ground is soft and muddy, and I cannot get my footing. I slip and slide all the way to the tree. Once behind it, I whip my phone out and stare.

Song selection: “Truly Madly Deeply”

What kind of song is that?

I might have heard that song before, but I hardly remember it.

Stupid, stupid nineties music.

Every second counts. This app thinks it’s going to pull one over on me because I don’t know nineties music, but it has another thing coming.

The timer is counting down from thirty seconds. This is serious business here, and I don’t take winning lightly. I’m either first or last, and I won’t be last. I open Google and type in the song title to get a peek at the lyrics.

“El,” Stallone’s husky voice calls from the other side of the trees. “Are you okay?”

My heart slams against a brick wall, and my eyes pop out of my skull. “Uh, why’d you follow me?”

“We’re in the middle of the forest at night. I can’t let you go wandering off. You don’t have to be embarrassed that you’re sick. I can take you home.”

Thunk.

Thunk.

My heart slams against my rib cage at the same beat the timer counts down to my match.

I’m busted.

There’s no way out of this, and I still don’t know this stupid song. I will not lose.

“Look.” I sidestep, coming around the tree and flipping my phone so he can see my app. “I’m not sick,” I rush out as fast as I’ve ever spoken in my life. Hot shame floods my cheeks. “I didn’t know what to say, because I spent all day singing karaoke into this app, and I’m in the championship round. It sounds stupid but I’m really competitive, and there is five hundred dollars of prize money on the line. I know it’s not much, but I haven’t been working all week, except for the coffee shop, but it’s dead, and I’ve made no tips. I could really use the money, but I also didn’t want to cancel our date, but I got thirty seconds until my round starts and I have to sing “Truly Madly Deeply,” and I don’t even know the lyrics—” I cut myself off, and a nervous giggle leaks out of my lips, as this really is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I ruined this date because of this stupid karaoke app.

His eyes glue to my phone. I’m waiting for a look of horror to flash over his face, but instead his lips bend into a smirk. “That’s what this is about? Karaoke. Why didn’t you say something earlier?” His giant hand flattens in front of me. “Give me the phone.”

My brows furrow together for a moment before it sinks in that he’s not mad at all. He has a full smile on his face, and he’s ready to help me. “I don’t think it works if you sing it. It must be my voice.”

He swipes his hand through his hair. “I thought you were upset at me being so old.” A giant sigh drops from his mouth, and he chuckles out loud. “If anyone can win at karaoke, it’s going to be me. You hold the phone up to your mouth, but I’ll sing in the background to help you find the rhythm. It’s not a hard song—”

My app flashes, changing screens and I panic and cut him off, “It’s starting!”

The lyrics scroll across my screen. Since I don’t know them, I read them and try to find my pitch, but Stallone is right behind me, whispering the words to the melody and it helps so much. I feel dumb singing into my phone in the middle of the forest at night in front of him. Even if we make it past a first date—which I highly doubt after the way I’ve treated him—he’ll probably never let me live this down.

My gauge quickly fills with green to indicate I’m winning. Then I no longer care how dumb I look.

I’m winning.

My confidence soars.

The headlights from the truck are the only real light, and it’s enough for me to see his dark eyes staring deeply into mine. Our voices blend well together. Me, a solid soprano, and him a bass. The song ends with a long pause on the screen. I hold my breath, my gaze bouncing from Stallone to the screen. He’s still here, which is mind-blowing to me, and he seems to be holding his breath, as excited as I am.

Confetti pops, and I squeal and pump my fist in the air. “We won!”

He throws his head back, letting laughter roll out, at the same time he scoops me up into a giant bear hug. It sends a whoosh right through me as our bodies are pressed together. All the air is wrung out of my lungs, and I can’t help but freeze. After a complete twirl, he sets me down, and that’s when I notice his nice pants are muddy. I motion to his pant legs. “How come you’re all muddy?”

His smile never leaves his face. “I slipped when I was running after you.” A slow chuckle starts from his lips. “I ran as fast as I could, because I thought you were dying.”

My gaze slopes until I meet his, and a swelling starts in my heart. I put my hand on his forearm and stare into his eyes. Here’s a man who ran through the mud to save me. When he finds out I’d been hiding this app from him, he sings Savage Garden to me.

It’s all green flags for me.

“Stallone,” I whisper his name. “Thank you for helping and for not being upset.”

“You’re welcome.” His gaze softens, bright copper flecks dancing in his eyes. “I’m relieved everything is fine. I couldn’t decide if you were upset that I was old or if you were sick.”

“Neither of those.” I let out a mischievous laugh. “I’m just broke right now and saw a way to make some cash. Now you know my secret. Plus, I’m the ultimate Karaoke Cash-oke champion.”

“That’s a good title to have.” He holds his hand out to me, and I take it. Hand in hand, we both head toward the truck. “How about next time you want to sing karaoke though, you just tell me, and I’ll take you out to a real show?”

“That sounds fun.” My bottom lip rolls under my top teeth in disbelief. I got lucky with this guy. He’s so fun and easygoing, yet he really was concerned when he thought I was sick. “Just know . . .” I pause and give him a challenging side eye. “You are not going to take my title from me.”

“Just you wait.” He throws his head back and laughs before giving me a stern look. “You think you’re competitive? You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“I think I hear a challenge,” I joke. “Care to make a bet?”

“Absolutely.” We’ve reached the truck, and he opens my door for me, standing back while I hop in. “Not karaoke though. I get to pick the challenge, and it starts tomorrow.”

My lips slide into a grin that fills my entire face. “Deal.”

He shuts my door, and while I wait for him to return to the truck, my gaze drops to the ground. It’s all fun to joke about, but I don’t live here. It stinks to find someone I connect with so well, and I’m just going to leave.

He’s quiet when he climbs in his seat and shifts the truck back into gear, steering back to town. Part of me wants me to invite him back to the coffee shop for a drink and more conversation, but even though I have a key, it’s not my store. I don’t really know Graham or how he’d take it to have guests so late. I don’t have any other ideas, and he doesn’t offer anywhere else to go, driving me back to the lodge. He’s quiet when he pulls into the parking lot. “Thank you for taking me out,” I say as I turn to him to say goodnight. “I had a nice time, and I’m sorry for worrying you.”

He slides his arm on the back of the seat, and it feels like a subtle invitation to move closer, but I’m not sure. “I had a great time too,” he says as his eyes lock with mine. “If it’s still okay, I’m going to text you tomorrow.”

“I’d like that.” I trap my bottom lip in my teeth and wait for him to say or do anything to indicate he wants me to stay, but he’s still. After a quiet beat, I put my hand on the door handle, and push the door open, calling back, “Night.”

“Night,” he says as I shut the door, and I turn to go back into the lodge. I’m feeling a little down that the date is over. It’s still fairly early, and I hope it wasn’t me who made it end so soon. A tightness creeps into my chest, creating a pain in my heart different than anything I’ve experienced. It’s like I miss him already.