Rosie whacks the back of my head, and I shift forward, turning my head at the very last second. His mouth brushes against my cheekbone, though he quickly pulls back.

“Sorry,” he says, his cheeks a warm shade of pink.

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing,” I assure, before turning to glare at Rosie. She’s laughing under her breath, her face tucked into Grant’s shoulder. I turn my glare on him, but he raises his hands placatingly.

I sigh and face forward, trying not to recall the feeling of Emmitt’s soft lips on my skin. “Let’s get this over with.”

A carnival. Emmitt has brought us to a carnival.

In big, bold letters, FRESH MEADOWS WINTER CARNIVAL is painted across a stark red banner.

“How did you even find out about this place?” I ask, reaching for my backpack strap to fiddle with before I remember it’s not there. We left our stuff in the SUV, which Emmitt proclaimed safe since he apparently rented it just for this occasion. In light of that, all we have with us are our phones and Emmitt’s camera.

Emmitt shrugs. “Grant helped me.”

I look to Grant, and he offers me an almost nervous smile in return. I suddenly feel horrible for all the times I’ve been unnecessarily abrasive toward him.

“Thank you, Grant,” I say softly.

A small smile graces Grant’s lips, before it widens into a large grin, his teeth bright against his dark skin. “You’re welcome, Mina.”

My eyes dart around the different booths ahead of us and the crowd weaving in between them, before returning to Emmitt, who stands with his hands tucked into his pockets. He’s even wearing a beanie to hide his blond hair from view, which is almost ironic since it was initially meant to disguise his identity.

Rosie grabs my arm, pulling me past the entrance before I can say anything more. “Come on!”

I shake my head, letting her drag me along. “Wait, but why are we—”

Emmitt claps a hand over my mouth. “Talk less, smile more.”

“Okay, Aaron Burr,” I mutter, before biting his pinky finger. I expect him to pull his hand back, but he only raises an eyebrow at me in challenge.

I stare back, realizing I’m out of moves. I think that even if I licked his palm, he’d remain unbothered. Eventually, I just reach up, gently prying his fingers away, and he allows me it, if only to raise my hand to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss against my fingertips.

I flush in surprise. I wasn’t expecting such a gentle touch from him, but the more I think about it, the more I realize he’s been increasingly tactile as of late. Maybe it’s because we’ve finally settled into a friendship.