"So let me get this straight." I stare up at the octopus-shaped sign illuminating the darkness of the night. Excitement tingles in my fingertips, but I hide it under a mask of annoyance. "Your idea of cheering me up is going to a theme park? What am I? Five?"

Ollie is about to make my dream date come true, yet I can't help but wonder why he chooses this place for our first date. After all, not only that theme parks are deemed too childish by many of the guys I went out with, but Ollie also looked as if he was starring in Final Destination the last time we went here.

"Who says I'm cheering you up?" Ollie shrugs, acting nonchalant. "Maybe I just want to go to a theme park."

"You realize you're a terrible liar, right?" I arch an eyebrow and smirk at him.

He clicks his tongue in defeat. "Fine. But to be fair, you did the same to me. So, technically, it's your idea."

True, even though I'll never admit it, I took Ollie here two years ago to cheer him up. Theme parks have always been my favorite place to visit, especially when I'm having a rough day, and I'd hoped it could work its magic on him too. (Of course, the fact that he seemed to have an unhealthy phobia of roller coasters was a bonus for me.)

I thought my plan failed, for his actions got weirder and weirder afterward instead. But I guess I was wrong.

"Oh, that was different," I tease. "I did it because I knew you'd pee your pants."

An adorable frown puckers his mouth. "First of all, I didn't pee my pants. I just vomited up my insides."

I bite back a laugh. "That's—"

"Second." His voice softens as he pushes his hands into his pants pockets and lowers his gaze. "It was the best day of my life, so . . ."

Lovely warmth spreads across my chest when I find out he felt the same way as I did. Although the paparazzi ended our friendly date abruptly, I'd never been happier than when I was goofing around here with him.

"Well . . ." My lips twist as I fight to contain a grin. "If you don't count the paparazzi following us and calling me a boyfriend snatcher on the internet, it was the best day of my life t—"

"Oh, fuck." Ollie stiffens, his eyes widening with dread. "The paparazzi."

A pang of horror shoots through my veins at the thought of the paparazzi following us right this very second. Worse, there's a chance they might have done so ever since we left the gala. The aftermath of our friendly date two years ago springs to life like a broken movie in my mind, and a shudder of guilt shakes my shoulder.

"I shouldn't have kissed you earlier, should I? What if they photographed us? What if—oh my God." My chest heaves up and down as my breath comes in short gasps. The guilt becomes overwhelming, and tears start prickling my eyes. "And now you're gonna lose your clients again, and your home, and your car, and it's all my—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Calm down, Ness." Ollie holds my hand and leads me to the empty picnic table nearby. "What are you talking about?"

As we settle next to each other on the red-painted bench, I reply, "Your reputation, of course. The last time the paparazzi published an article about us going here, you lost almost all of your clients and went bankrupt, remember?"

He releases an amused breath. "You're worried about me?"

"Of course, I am. What else should I be worried about—oh. I guess they could attack me even more. But at this point, I got nothing more to lose. You do, though."

"Don't worry about me." His thumb circles over my pulse point, and it manages to slow my racing pulse, but a boulder of guilt still lodges in my chest. "My clients are a lot smarter than my old ones. I'm sure they won't believe what some stupid gossip magazines say about me. You, on the other hand—"

"I'll be fine." I try to reassure him, but he sets his mouth in a hard line instead. "Besides, I doubt the rumors can get any worse than me supposedly biting your dick off or cutting it with a katana, so—"

Ollie snorts, anger—with the faintest tinge of amusement—washing over his face. "What? Who said that?"

"It's a long story. The point is . . ."

The right thing for us to do is to turn around and walk away from this place. But for some reason, the words get stuck in my throat.

"Maybe we should head back," Ollie continues after a while, finishing the sentence I can't bring myself to say. His voice is muffled by the screams from the roller coaster not far from us, yet I swear I can hear a note of disappointment in it.

A disappointed sigh heaves from the cavern of my chest. "Yeah. I guess so."

Still, we sit there in silence, listening to all the carny sounds from the fun rides and children's laughter from the game booths. I try to get up and move my feet, but my body seems to have a mind of its own. The tantalizing scent of freshly fried funnel cake wafting from the restaurant nearby brings a sense of nostalgia to me, reminding me of the day we visited this place for the first time.

The day silly me thought Ollie was going to kiss me.

The day I almost lost control and kissed him.

No, no, no. Don't be selfish, Vanessa. What if those pesky stalkers photographed you and Ollie going on a 'date' date, huh? Think about the consequences for him. He might—

"Is it bad that I don't wanna go?" Ollie asks, frustration burning in his eyes. "I know we shouldn't do this, but . . ."

I intertwine our fingers together, my thumb caressing his knuckles to offer some comfort. "I don't wanna go either."

We stare at each other for a moment before breaking into chuckles.

"What should we do, Ness?" he asks, but there's something in his eyes that tells me he already knows the answer to his question.

"We can ignore them." That long-lost will to fight inside me flickers inside my chest. "You said it yourself. Screw what other people think. So maybe we should stop worrying about what other lies the paparazzi will write about us and just . . . enjoy the night."

Concern and a little bit of guilt grow in his eyes. "It's just—it feels like we're jumping into the sea of bloodthirsty serial killers, you know? It's like a suicide mission."

"Yeah, but aren't you tired of running? They're never gonna stop chasing us, Ol. And if we're going to do this." I tighten my grip on his hand, and he returns the gesture. "If we can't outrun the inevitable, then maybe we can deal with whatever happens together."

The fine lines across his forehead deepen as he trails his gaze to our tangled hands. For a moment, his expression softens, yet hesitation still clouds his eyes.

My brain kicks into high gear, searching for a way to ease his anxiety, and I remember Ryan's method of using analogies to explain things.

"Take horror movies for example," I begin. "Nancy would've never beaten Freddy Krueger if she kept running and weeping. And Ginny wouldn't have beaten Jason if she didn't pick up that machete and slam it into his shoulder." As the tension in Ollie's face begins to fade, my mind reminds me of the first movie we watched together. "Oh, and Max!"

"Who's Max?"

"The final girl in The Final Girls?"

"Oh, yeah." His nose scrunches up in delight. "Can you believe Chucky is still in love with that movie even after five years? You know, after last year's Christmas party, he wouldn't stop wailing because you took Kiki home with you. I played that movie for him, and it worked like a charm. He stopped crying for ninety-one minutes." Ollie pulls his mouth into a straight line and shakes his head. "That sadistic bastard."

"Said the guy who named his dog after a serial-killing doll."

"Oh, that's different," he says, mimicking my earlier response. "Chucky is legendary."

I chuckle. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. My point is that most of those final girls in horror movies would've never survived if they don't take a stand against the bad guy. So maybe we can, I don't know, fight our haters back and be the final couple?"

Ollie chokes on air, and my heart leaps into my throat. Uh-oh. Did I just insinuate we should be a couple?

To my utter surprise and slight confusion, he bursts into a guffaw, holding his belly with both hands. "What the hell, Ness? We're not virgins."

Irritation buzzes through my nerves. I gave him a super-duper awesome speech and that's what he takes from it?

I hiss at him. "This isn't the eighties anymore, Ol. Even horror movies have gotten some upgrades and allowed those who weren't virgins to survive. Like Sydney in Scream. Or Tree in Happy Death Day. I mean, those eighties horror movie tropes are stupid, okay? Why can't a girl ride a boy and defeat the bad guys—"

Sharp glares stab me from my left, sending a shudder across my shoulders. Heat rushes to my cheeks when I notice the couple at the table next to us are desperately trying to cover their two young daughters' ears with their hands.

"Mommy." The girl with the braids looks up at her mother. "What ride is that lady talking about?"

"Can we play it next?" the older girl chimes in with enthusiasm. "Those people seem to have so much fun talking about it."

My face burns with guilt and shame. As the furious parents drag their daughters away from us, I murmur my apology to them before elbowing my infuriating bestie—who's too busy laughing to notice what's happening—in the stomach.

"Ouch." Ollie winces and rubs his belly, still chortling. It takes a while before his laughter subsides. "Do you think we should do this?"

I lower my gaze to the ground, my hands gripping the edge of the bench. "I don't know if we should. All I know is that I want to. The question is . . ." Am I being selfish for wanting this? Swallowing the tightness in my throat, I shift my eyes back to Ollie. "Do you?"

He stares at me for a moment in concern, yet a smile soon grazes his lips. "Yeah." Excitement sparks to life inside me as he stands up and offers me his arm. "Shall we?"

I jump to my feet and loop my arm through his. "So, where should we go first? Roller coaster?"

He sneers at me. "I got a better idea. Why don't we—"

An idea appears in my mind when my eyes fall on the souvenir stalls on the boardwalk. "Hey. Follow me."

With full-on enthusiasm, I pull Ollie to the wooden cart. The kiosk offers different kinds of souvenirs, from adorable keychains to fridge magnets. Any other day, I can buy up the whole store. But this time, my eyes are fixed on the rack full of cute, heart-shaped sunglasses.

"We . . . need . . . a disguise." I pick a pair that has false resin teeth glued on its plastic frame and put it on Ollie's face, giggling at how silly it makes him.

"Sunglasses at this time of the day?" He removes the glasses and grimaces at them. "We'll look like thieves, Ness."

"Honestly, without them, people might think you're a pervert who got beaten up by the mob boss for sleeping with his mistress." I gesture at the faint bruises around his left eye. "But I see your point."

I return my attention to the rows of heart-shaped sunglasses on the display. A set of matching ones at the bottom row catches my eyes. The glasses come in two sets of colors—light blue and rose pink—and they have sophisticated plastic cat-eye frames with cute, extravagant wings.

I pluck the pink one for myself and offer Ollie the blue one. "Try this."

He glares at me before reluctantly complying with my request. "You do realize everyone can still recognize us even with glasses on?"

Although he has a good point, I can't help but want him to wear the glasses for the rest of the night. After all, they make him look as adorable as a newborn kitten.

"Hey, nobody recognizes Clark Kent as Superman." I step in front of the small mirror next to the sunglasses rack and adjust the glasses on the bridge of my nose—or the lack thereof—before giving Ollie my best grin.

A chuckle slips out of him. Yet to my disappointment, he takes his glasses off. "This isn't a comic book, Ness."

"Oh, come on, Ol. Please?" I thrust my lower lip forward into a pout and flutter my lashes, pleading with my Puss-in-Boots eyes.

A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth, yet he quickly replaces it with a straight face. "Nope. Over my dead body."

There's a note of challenge in his tone, one that is reflected in his eyes, and it brings out my competitive side.

"Oh, yeah?" I dig my wallet from my clutch and fish out a paper napkin I've been keeping for the past two years. "Well, you're going to wear it whether you like it or not. Because I am using my second Golden Bestie Card."

Ollie fakes a gasp, a gleam of mischief dancing in his eyes. Uh-oh. Why do I feel like I'm falling into a trap? "Don't waste your card, Miss Mochi. I'm warning you."

"Who says I'm wasting it?" I lift my chin, trying my best to act nonchalant.

"Fine."

"Yes!" I pump my fist in victory as Ollie draws his wallet from his pocket.

"But if you're insisting on using your Golden Bestie Card, then . . ." He pulls out the Mr. Dumpy collectible card I gave to him two years ago from one of the card slots and holds it up. "I'll use mine too."

I gasp in horror, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You tricked me."

"No, I didn't." His voice rises a tone or two, and he clicks his tongue. "Okay, maybe I did. But I've warned you. So it's not entirely my fault."

With a loud growl, I snatch the card from his hand and push it into my wallet. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

A wicked smirk tips his mouth, and I know exactly what he has in mind. Uh-oh. I've made a huge mistake, haven't I?

Author's Note:

So, Ollie is taking Nessa to the place where it all started! Did you guess it right?

Their date will continue in the next chapter. Stay tuned! Thanks for reading :)