Chapter 97 97
DAISY POV
He asked if I had a favorite place to go.
I looked up at Diesel a bit confused when he stretched out his hand. I blinked at him until the words sank in. I don’t know if I was stunned by that because it was just the accurate question for me. I had been watching different people since we sat down, and the thought of things I wanted to get involved in was right beside my mind. Though I don’t know why Diesel suddenly thought of that, it was just perfect timing. I smiled.
“An amusement park,” I said softly.
Diesel froze.
For a second he just stared at me like I had spoken another language. Then his eyes widened.
“What??” he shouted, loud enough that several heads turned from the nearest tables.
I flinched, my cheeks burning hot. “Diesel… people are staring,” I whispered, shrinking a little in my seat.
He didn’t seem to care. He was still looking at me like I had suggested something crazy. His hand stayed hanging in the air between us for another second before he slowly lowered it, rubbing it over his face as if trying to process what I just said.
“An amusement park?” he repeated, voice lower this time but still thick with disbelief. “Like… the one with screaming kids, cotton candy, roller coasters, and clowns? That kind of amusement park?”
I nodded, biting my lip to stop myself from smiling too wide at how shocked he looked. “Yes. The big one on the east side — Sunnyvale Park. I’ve never been to one. Not even once. When I was little, my mom used to promise we would go when things got better, but we never did. It looks so alive in pictures — people laughing, eating junk food, riding rides until they scream. Just fun. Normal fun.”
Diesel leaned back in the booth, his arms crossing over his broad chest. “You’re 22 now, girl. Remember that.”
The words hit me harder than I expected. For a second I felt stupid for even saying it — like a little kid asking for something childish. My shoulders dropped a bit and I looked down at the table, suddenly embarrassed.
Diesel must have seen it on my face because he quickly added, “I’m not saying it’s bad. I’m just saying…” He checked his watch and sighed. “The park is an hour away, and amusement parks aren’t even open this late. It’s already getting dark.”
I nodded slowly, trying not to look too disappointed. “Okay…”
He gave me a look that said ‘any other place?’
I thought for a second, then said softly, “What about a game place? Like a big arcade with bowling and all the lights and games… the kind with claw machines and prizes. They usually stay open late.”
Diesel stared at me again, but this time the shock was mixed with something almost like amusement. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly fighting with himself.
“An arcade,” he muttered under his breath, like he was tasting the word and didn’t know if he liked it.
“Fine,” he said after a long pause. “Let’s go.”
My eyes lit up. “Really?”
He nodded once, already pulling out some cash to leave on the table. As we stood up, I heard him mutter under his breath, “I never thought she’s this baby…”
I stopped walking for half a second, my cheeks flushing even hotter. He thought I was being childish? The words stung a little, but when I glanced at him, there was no meanness in his face — just that same conflicted look, like he was annoyed and fond at the same time.
We walked out of the diner together. Diesel’s hand found the small of my back as he guided me toward the bike, the boutique bags already secured in the saddlebag.
Diesel helped me get on the bike. I noticed he already had the location pulled up on his phone map. He started the engine and drove off.
The ride took about fifty minutes. When we finally pulled into the parking lot, the building was bright with neon signs that said “GAME ZONE” and “BOWL & PLAY”.
Diesel killed the engine and helped me step down from the bike. I was still stunned, staring at the glowing entrance like I couldn’t believe we were really here.
He turned me gently to face him. His hands lifted the helmet off my head and set it on the seat. Then he reached up and fixed my hair, his fingers brushing slowly through the strands, tucking a few pieces behind my ear. His touch was careful, almost soft. After that, he adjusted the collar of his shirt that I was wearing, smoothing it down over my shoulders with both hands. His thumbs lingered for a second on my collarbones.
He looked at me for a moment, eyes dark under the neon lights. Then the corner of his mouth lifted just a little. He took my hand, threading his fingers through mine, and held it firmly.
“Come on,” he said quietly.
We walked toward the entrance like that — hand in hand.