Page 15 of The Stalker Snafu

It was like my dream birthday.

How loaded were these people?

Upbeat music played on speakers, laughter rang from all corners, and the crowd was so big it would cause a stampede if we needed to evacuate.

I couldn’t stop staring at all the pretty lights.

Mr. Everton’s buffet tables were artfully disguised as their own little red-and-white carnival booths off to the side of a merry-go-round. With options like cotton candy and caramel apples, I doubted anyone would choose lasagna or cauliflower casserole, but three of the chafers were near empty. With one last look of longing toward the petting zoo, I started the dance of power walking to and from the kitchen with new chafers of steaming pasta.

On my third lap, sparks flashed over by a raised platform on the other side of the merry-go-round, and I glanced over. An awfully familiar magician tapped his magic wand against a frayed blue ball cap.

My lips spread into a smile as I took in Finn Everton’s magician cape and top hat.

I’d met Finn at my first catering job, and you could say we’d gotten off to a rocky start. He’d stolen a precious cupcake right out of my mouth before devouring it himself, and there’d been some confusion when I found out he was my boss’s rebellious son. Luckily, I found him too fun to hold a grudge against, so we hadn’t been sworn enemies for long.

It helped that he was so pretty to look at. Finn had one of those faces that looked like it’d been molded with utmost care—defined cheekbones, a strong chin, and ocean blue eyes that glinted with mischief and the promise of trouble. He’d asked me out earlier in the semester, but I’d already been talking with Noah at the time. I’d thought it’d be awkward after turning Finn down, but rejection rolled off him like water and we’d stayed friends since.

He even promised he’d teach me the art of magic.

I scoped out his magic show, taking in the low stage and bright red tent shading the audience. Sparks flew from Finn’s ball cap, and the small crowd of children cheered from their lawn chairs.

I found myself walking toward the show for a closer look. The chafers could handle themselves for a little bit, and I was legally entitled to a fifteen-minute break.

Finn set off more sparks, earning another round of applause from the kids, before dropping low in a bow and tossing the ball cap into the middle of the crowd. Short arms fought over the prize before one boy came out the winner, and he turned the hat over in his hands as if expecting sparks to shoot out at him.

I bit my lip to contain a smile, loitering at the back of the crowd, next to a table with party favors. The centerpiece was an intricate ice sculpture of a castle, and dark red splotches covered the tablecloth where one of the spires was missing.

Ice sculpture incident, indeed.

I turned back to watch Finn in his element. He played to the crowd like a natural, owning the stage.

I mean, it was a children’s magic show and not a rock concert… but still.

It was his stage.

My thoughts must’ve been projecting, because bright blue eyes snared on mine when Finn surveyed the crowd. His eyes widened in surprise before he sent me a grin and stood taller.

“And for my final trick, I’ll need a volunteer from the crowd,” Finn announced before his grin adopted a mischievous edge. The audience exploded off their miniature chairs, arms flying into the air as they jumped to be chosen. “But this trick calls for very specific qualities in a volunteer. Can you guys help me find the right person?”

A bunch of the kids nodded excitedly, while others raised their arms higher.

“First, this trick requires a bit of a feminine touch—so, it needs to be a girl.”

That wiped the smile off my face. The kids in attendance looked around the crowd, pointing at some of the girls gathered. I shrank my shoulders in, edging closer to the ice sculpture table.

“Second,” Finn continued with a bright smile, “they need to have long blonde hair that shines brighter than the sun.”

My eyes narrowed into slits, and I took another step toward the table.

Finn’s gaze found mine, and he winked. “Third, my volunteer needs to be wearing a black shirt and black pants.”

I glanced down at my catering ensemble. Black shirt. Black pants.

I promptly ducked behind the castle ice sculpture.

Finn’s voice grew rushed. “And she needs to answer to the name Cupcake! There she is in the back, hiding behind the ice castle, fellow magicians! Go get her!”

My flight instinct kicked in, and I jumped up and managed two steps before a sugar-fueled war cry pierced the evening as a horde of children ran my way. I froze midstep, then spun with my hands in the air in hopes the pint-sized beasts wouldn’t tackle me to the ground.