Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set Gigi Blume (fantasy books to read .txt) 📖

I nodded. This was civil. This was friendly. The Maze of Mirrors could be fun—something friends would do. I pushed down my inner Austin Powers and told him to shut his groovy self up. I could be friends with Elizabeth Bennet.

25

First-Rate Opportunity

Beth

The Maze of Mirrors was just a distraction. I was having too much fun with Will. He was funny and charming, and we liked the same things. I didn’t know what to do with this information. Also, if I were being honest with myself, I wanted him to kiss me again. Just for research purposes, of course.

It would be the perfect place for it, dark corridors, private alcoves, secret doors. An experiment to theorize if the whole world would tilt again like it did on New Year’s Eve. But once inside, I think we both immediately regretted it. Instead of a mysterious, dimly lit tunnel of love, it was a loud, obnoxious scream prison. A Punjab lasso would have capped the experience quite nicely. Lady freaked out and squirmed out of my arms, almost landing on a boisterous kid with a buzz cut. The little brat ran through the maze, hollering and grunting to scare the smaller children. The effect was an echo chamber of high-pitched screams and the faint smell of vomit somewhere nearby. Will caught Lady just in time and stroked her snout. That seemed to calm her down.

“Watch your step,” he said to me. “There might be puddles of questionable body fluids on the floor.”

Yuck.

“I’d carry you,” he said with a grin, “but I’ve got the dog.”

How romantic.

“How do we get out of here?” I exclaimed over the ear-splitting screams.

“Death by madness?” he quipped.

“There’s only one way,” I said with the most serious expression I could give. “Kill or be killed.”

He nodded gravely. “It’s a war zone. I got your back.”

We gave each other the knowing look soldiers made while in the trenches and then made a run for it. We barreled past children and covertly inched around corners. At one point, Will cried, “Land mine! Nine o’clock.”

We averted disaster and gave each other high fives. Lady lifted her snout, wanting in on the action so we high-fived her paw. Little bodies blurred by like explosions in slow motion, and we ducked, zigged, and zagged as we narrowly escaped within an inch of our lives.

“You okay?” he said, catching his breath.

“Yeah. You? Missing any limbs?”

He dabbed a finger on his tear duct. “I got shrapnel in my eye, but I think I’ll survive.”

We’d made it with no casualties. It was exhilarating. But I may have made my victory dance a little too soon because, just as it would seem we were clear of danger, I took a fatal hit.

A passing teenager with a cherry slushy crashed into me while rough-housing with his friends. Ice-cold red slush gushed onto my chest, dripping down the front of my white flowered dress.

“Nostradamus!” I cried.

The teenager offered me a half-hearted apology with a stifled snicker and ran off. I could sense Will trying to suppress his own laughter.

“Be brave, soldier,” he said. “Walk toward the light.”

“Save yourself,” I cried dramatically. “Leave me and save yourself.”

Red syrup seeped into the fabric of my dress, leaving a wet, sticky stain. I looked like a hot mess but all I could do was laugh. Here I was next to Hollywood’s hottest heartthrob, and I could be typecast as the sticky, drippy swamp monster. He ran to grab some napkins but before he returned, a little girl with honey-blond pigtails and the biggest green eyes I’d ever seen handed me a single tissue. She didn’t say a word—just stared up at me with those enormous eyes. If I had to guess, I’d say she was about five.

I accepted the tissue and thanked her—mostly for restoring my faith in humanity than the little gift. When Will approached with the napkins, he bent down to her level and whispered something I couldn’t hear above the carnival noise. He then reached in his pocket and handed her a long string of ride tickets. Her face lit up, and she hugged him around the neck. Her mother, a few feet away smiled gratefully and led her daughter away by the hand.

My ovaries went zing! The way Will interacted with that little girl, the tender way he crouched to her level, the soft expression on his face when he whispered to her, the sweet reaction she made to his kindness. He was full of surprises.

He handed me the napkins. “Do you want to return to the house to clean up?”

He had the thoughtfulness to dampen them with water. I suddenly felt shy.

“No, I’m good,” I said, wiping myself down. “There’s no getting this stain out.”

“Maybe you could borrow something of my sister’s,” he offered. “She’s about your size. Maybe an inch or two taller.”

Huh. That would be just a little awkward. I’d never met his sister, but if he told her anything about my erstwhile friendship with Jorge, I didn’t think I could look her in the eye.

“Um, no, thank you,” I said. “I should probably head home.”

I had a lovely time. Too lovely. But if I were smart, getting out before it turned ugly again was the best course of action. Now, how was I to get in touch with Enrique? Or did L.A.’s fine public transportation system extend to the reaches of Will’s fairytale castle?

His expression dimmed, and he stood looking at me like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. My chest hurt at the idea of leaving, wishing this day could last. But I didn’t want to play the fool. I’d already done a good job at that so far.

“Well…” I sighed. “I’m just going to say goodbye to Stella—”

His hand flew to his forehead. “Stella! I almost forgot.”

He wrapped his strong fingers around mine and pulled me along with him, rushing through the crowd. The contact of his skin melted me from my palm, up the length of my arm, and