by Felicia Lynn
“So let me get this straight,” I say, taking the position next to her but leaving some space. “You threw two of the worst pitches I’ve ever witnessed, and now, you want to give up and let some … what did you call me …?” I pretend to have forgotten the title, but I’ll never forget. She fills in the blank, just as I suspected she would.
Her smirk makes me proud, and I’m instantly relieved that my quick timeout to get my shit together didn’t chase away her playful nature. “Oh … I remember. I called you a hotshot baseball boy,” she says with a laugh.
“Yep. That’s the one.” I’ve already resolved myself to give in to whatever she wants. If standing here and effortlessly tossing a few balls to win prizes is it, I’ll do this all night.
I’m pretty sure the crazy guy working the game didn’t know that his taunting sales tactic was inviting the star pitcher of the local college team. He was just trying to get us to come over and spend money on his game, but he unknowingly fueled Ty’s wildfire to prove again and again that he could beat that game when the jerk started watching me all creepy.
Even still, it was fun, and I’m a little sad that the game is over. I didn’t want it to end. It was incredible to watch him in action. My. God. He didn’t even try. I’m not even sure he was looking. Everything about Ty completely catches me off guard. He’s affectionate and sweet with his gentle touch and stolen kisses. He’s playful and funny and easy to hang out with. I even see a protective side to him—saving me from myself at the party, checking on me at the park, making sure I have the helmet on snug and I’m holding on to him tight on the bike, and holding my hand in crowds. We don’t need to mention the look he had when the creepy guy was staring at me. He’s so much more than I expected.
I’m not sure what to think anymore, but what I’m feeling is amazing. Maybe I should stop thinking and spinning my wheels trying to plan and analyze and just feel. These moments with him are everything I ever wanted and so much more than I ever expected. I thought we were just friends, but his touch and kisses tell me a very different story, and whatever this is between us is growing with each passing minute we’re together. There’s no doubt in my mind that I’m hungry for so much more with him. I can’t seem to get enough.
My attraction to him isn’t surprising, but the way my body reacts to it, becoming docile and needy, is shocking. For a moment, I wanted him to pull us away from this place to hide away from the world just him and me exploring each other. I was willing in that second to give him all of me—to give him the ‘more’ I’ve never given to anyone.
I didn’t handle the moment he stepped away from me well. I panicked allowing all of my insecurities to claw their way into my thoughts, and I know he saw it before I was able to shield it from view. I want to be good enough. But even now, after everything tonight, I realize this may be what Morgan was trying to tell me earlier. He’s out of MY league. No, he’s in a completely different solar system.
Ty isn’t an open book, and no matter how hard I try, I’d have better luck deciphering ancient text than reading him. I honestly know very little about him, but I guess I haven’t given up much about myself either. I’ll continue to take cues from him and follow his lead, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m getting more and more desperate for any scrap of information. I want insight into who he really is and what he’s feeling about us.
The game host tosses our winnings into a huge clear plastic garbage bag, clearly annoyed with us. I’m not even sure he counted the bears or light-sabers, and I was sure he just wanted us gone far away from there as Ty continuously reminded him he only wanted blue light-sabers. But in Ty’s defense, the jerk kept trying to sneak in red and yellow to save time and to not have to dig deeper in the box for the blue.
Ty wasn’t joking about only blue. At least I know his favorite color is blue. He tosses the bag over his shoulder holding it easily with one arm and takes my hand to lead the way back to the rides. I could be confused by his acts of affection, I could be nervous that it’s not genuine, and it’s a plan to build me up for later, but I’m not. If that were all he really wanted from me, he would have handled things a little differently and taken better advantage of the situation back at the ride or better yet at the game.
The smell of caramel apples and kettle corn wafts through the air when we turn the corner and instantly distracts me from my Ty analyzing binge fest. Fair food is my newest addiction—second to Ty, of course. I’m looking everywhere for the origin of the glorious smell. I shouldn’t even be hungry for more food after I’ve eaten my way through the fair between the rides, but I can’t resist. “That smells glorious …” I mean, I look like a complete idiot right now, I’m sure. My nose is in the air leading me like that silly little toucan bird addicted to cereal that flies around with his nose leading him to the cereal treasure.
Stopping, I look up at Ty only for him to reward me again with his trademark side-smile. I’ve figured out I see that little gem more when he’s amused by things I do or say. I love it.
“Since I can smell many glorious things around me, but nothing is more mouthwatering than the person right next to me, I think you need to elaborate.” His eyes roam over my body hungrily, and under the warmth of his gaze, I’m done for.
Leaning up on my tiptoes, I press my lips to his without a second thought. I hear the bag of toys fall to the ground just before he pulls me tighter to him, lifting me slightly to ease the effort of standing on my toes. His tongue traces my lips as if begging for an invite inside. I open without question, accepting and mimicking. I allow instinct to take over. The kiss changes everything for me, triggering my plunge. I thought his touch was enough to send me over the cliff of warmth and desire, but with one kiss, I’m willingly freefalling to wherever he wants me to go.
I shouldn’t want or expect more from a guy like Ty. This will probably never progress the way my imagination is taking it and lowering my expectations would be the smarter move.
No—that would be the easy move and possibly stupid.
Smart is opening my mind to new possibilities.
Connecting with him in any way feels magical, but this kiss encourages intimacy in a way I never understood. Something about this moment with him is wildly different than I would have ever expected. My fingers grasp the shirt covering his back willing him to continue and not wanting to separate ever. He thinks this date is just the adventure for me, but he’s wrong. Tyler Stone is my adventure.
When we finally separate, I struggle not to pout and beg for more. His fingers softly run down my cheek and across my lips after he sets me back on my feet. Without saying anything more, he picks up the bag and wraps the other arm around my shoulders pulling me into him as he leads us to the Sweet’s Shack. The rows and rows of colorful clouds of cotton candy hang in the window and from the ceiling. Caramel apples, candied apples, and an assortment of chocolate-covered apples are like little pieces of tasty art on the counters. Even though this is exactly what I wanted before the kiss, I’m totally distracted now. Is it crazy that I can’t focus on these balls of greatness because what I crave is more of his lips on mine? At twenty-one years old, a real first kiss is all that I ever could have wanted to make this night perfect, and now that it’s happened, I know it’s way more impressive than these desserts.
“What can I get for you?” the little gray-haired lady with a bright yellow and white plaid apron says, breaking my thoughts.
Ty nudges my shoulder. “Want to share a caramel apple?” And all I can do is nod. My voice and ability to find words have up and left the grounds at this point, leaving behind a field of butterflies in my stomach ready to break free. I completely understand their need to be set free now.
Reaching into the wristlet hanging on my arm, I grab a few bills tucked into the pocket and push the money toward the counter where the sweet little lady is wrapping our apple in parchment paper. “My treat,” I say shyly, finally finding my voice as my eyes meet his. He shakes his head taking my cash away and replaci
ng it with his own on the counter, then folds the bills and slides them with two fingers into my front pocket.
“Buttercup, keep your money and don’t try that again. You’re cute, but no way are you cute enough to get away with that.” The softness of his eyes, along with his gentleness while putting the money in my pocket, combats the commanding nature of his statement. His no-nonsense attitude sends the clear message that my money is of no use. I’m sure this wouldn’t matter to many girls. I’m sure most of his dates wouldn’t take that moment and read between the lines like I am, but to me, it somehow means more. Everyone has always wanted to benefit from my father’s influence through me—however it worked out.
As he is collecting the change, I pull my phone out of the clutch realizing I haven’t even looked at it once all night. It’s not as if I’d actually miss much, but I need a distraction for a minute to gather my thoughts, so I step off to the side and quickly browse Facebook and Instagram while waiting for Ty. I’m not surprised that I have very few notifications, but I pretend to be busy anyway.
My social media accounts are laced with promo pictures of staged family events, charity initiatives, and campaign trial stuff. Nothing truly indicative of me allows anyone any insight into my life and the things I enjoy, but up until today, very little of anything really existed.
I step around the corner and snap a picture of the bright lights on the midway then upload it onto my Instagram profile with a filter to soften the harsh lines and highlight the brightness of the lights. Just as I publish the post, I feel Ty’s body step into mine from behind, and I easily lean into him. With his arms wrapped around me, he unwraps the apple and brings it to my mouth to take a bite. “That’s delicious! Oh, my God,” I declare, looking over my shoulder at him.
“Bet it’s not nearly as tasty as you,” he whispers into my ear. “But I’ll try it and let you know.” He takes a bite next the part that I bit into, and I laugh as he chews and tries to talk with strings of gummy caramel on his lips. “Nope, not even close,” he finishes before his lips touch mine.
When he holds out the apple for me, I see the heart formed from our bites, and I’m excited to document it. I snap a picture of the apple heart and post it with the hashtag #FairLove #ItsInTheAir
Pressing the button to reverse the camera for a selfie, Ty sees what I’m doing and leans down to not only be a part of it, but also to send a message when he poses kissing my cheek, making my heart smile. I lean back into Ty and show him the photo, and he immediately demands that I share it with him and tag him in the photo. It’s a really sweet picture, and I feel great having something exciting to share that’s finally completely about me and not just my name.
I upload the picture of us, tagging him just as he asked, before sharing it on all my social media sites. I can’t help but feel like a giddy little love-struck girl as I do it. Is this normal? I put my phone back into the wristlet and Ty hands me the apple to hold as he picks up the bag of prizes. Draping it over his shoulder to carry as we walk, his other arm rests on my shoulder. We share the apple bite for bite on the way to the most important ride of the night.
Standing in line, we finish most of the apple. It’s so good that I make him promise we can get another one to save for later. I don’t miss his shocked look as he listens to me describe the taste. Stepping closer to my side, I feel the pressure of his hardness at my hip sending a rush of hotness through my body. He takes the apple from my hand and eats the last bite then tosses the stick in the bin on the other side of the ropes. I probably would have argued since the last bite was mine, but the warmth is spreading faster through my body, and I’m using that fighting power to keep myself from climbing up his body and attaching myself to his hardness.
It’s safe to say the Ferris wheel was the best ride of the night, which in all actuality turned out to be four rides of an action packed make-out session. I hate that we have to leave. But as promised, we make a quick stop at the concession stand on the way out to get Charlie a caramel apple for later. It’s unfortunate that the fair is over tomorrow, and I’ll have to wait a whole year for a repeat of tonight.
It’s chilly as we walk back toward the Sweet’s Shack, but since I was so worked up on the ride, I’m hoping the chill in the air works in my favor and has the similar effect of a cold shower. With Charlie still tucked under my arm and now looking especially cute as hell wearing my huge ass windbreaker, I’m thinking there’s little hope for me.
She looked exhausted when we were stepping off the wheel, but the midway is still packed and lively, and it appears she may be getting her second wind. Screams and cheers from the riders of the giant pirate ship thrill ride erupt as it loops upside down just as we’re passing by. She slows to watch then turns to me and bumps my shoulder playfully.
“Want to?” she asks, giggling when the ship loops again, and the screams replay again.
I look up at the ship again before answering, completely resolved and secure in making the right decision for her. Looking back at her, I shake my head. “Charlie… hell to the fuck—no. You could slip right out of those shoulder harnesses,” I tell her with no regrets. That ride doesn’t look safe enough for her. No chance. If I were with the guys, I wouldn’t think twice about going on it, but I also don’t feel the same responsibility to keep them safe like I do with Charlie. I can’t protect her if something went wrong and I’m strapped into that shoulder harness.
I attempt to pull her away from the ride of death, but she plants her feet and tugs me back. “Are you scared, Mr. Hotshot baseball boy?” she teases.
She’s lost her damn mind. I’m starting to think that maybe her parents had good reason to shelter her and keep her locked away. She’s a danger to herself. “Buttercup, I’m not scared of anything except your tiny shoulders sliding out of that harness and you falling to your death while I watch helplessly.”
She pulls away, and the feisty Charlie that I’d almost convinced myself I imagined comes out again for the first time since the little running stunt. I’m still not sure she realizes I was on the bike that day. I’m okay with not confirming that right now since, for now, she seems to like me, and I don’t want to screw that up.
Trying to be tough, she glares while pointing at the sign showing the minimum height restrictions. The funny thing is she’s not mad right now, at least not like before. It’s blatantly obvious to me that she’s seconds from laughing her ass off and just trying to play it off. “Listen here, tough guy. I might be smaller than you are, but I do meet the size requirements according to that chart.” Then tossing her head in the direction of the ride where the passengers are coming off the ramp. “AND … if you take a look over there, you’ll see kids much smaller than I am who just got off that ride, and THEY SURVIVED!”
She has a point, but it’s still a lost cause. I’d love to show her exactly how much of a tough guy I really am, but the humor of the situation is getting the better of me and I can’t keep the grin off my face long enough to play it off. I pull her back to my arms feeling relieved to have the connection to her restored and lean down so that my lips are physically touching her ear as I respond. “Listen, buttercup, this feisty act is doing nothing to help the massive hard-on I’ve been dealing with all day just from being in the presence of your cuteness. But here’s how the rest of the night will play out. One, we’re going to continue on our path to the Sweet’s Shack for the apple I promised you for later. When you eat that apple tomorrow, you’ll be thinking about me while you do it, and that makes me very happy. Two, I’m going to hold you as close to me as possible all night, stealing every single kiss I can get until I deliver you safely home. Three, if you’re not interested in the above two plans, I’ll gladly show you exactly how tough I really am and toss you over my shoulder and carry you away from that death trap.”
When I finish, she looks up, and when her eyes meet mine, I almost tell her to forget all the plans and drag her back to the Ferris wheel. Her cheeks are flush and instead of looking angry or scar
ed, she looks hot, bothered, and very much ready for plan c.
“Okay, hotshot. We’ll stick to your agenda for tonight, but it’ll cost you a kiss before we put the plan in action.” I’ve never been so happy to negotiate in my life. So I gladly pay my dues and then move away from the temptations of the death trap.
My phone vibrates in my wristlet again, which is a little weird. Selfishly, with the night coming to an end, I didn’t want to sacrifice any time with Ty to take calls. The last hour has progressed exactly as he said it would. And I must admit I’ve never been happier to be in the presence of a thief. I hope he steals more kisses before this night is over.
I’m blissfully high on happiness. I can’t believe how perfect this night has been. Everything happens for a reason, so maybe being held captive in my family’s tower of publicity stunts was really for the best. Waiting this long for a real first date seemed borderline torture all these years, and I’ve resented my mother for it on countless occasions, but now, I feel like I should thank her.
After Ty closes my door and walks around to the driver’s side, I take a brief second to glance at my phone. I pull out my phone knowing it’s probably Morgan freaking out that I’m not home yet since it’s well after midnight. I unlock the screen using my thumbprint and my heart sinks to my feet when the notification pops up for preview. The high that moments ago would have taken a natural disaster to sweep away is now only a memory.
Mother: Prancing around at some cheap carnival like a trashy little tramp, after everything else you’ve done in the last 24 hours is just perfect, Charlotte Maryland Baker. I can’t believe you’d stoop this low. You were raised with class and wealth, yet you’d prefer to live like low-class scum. Do you have any idea how many girls would kill to be in your shoes, you little bitch? You’re incredibly unappreciative of all the luxuries you’ve been handed. What are you trying to prove? You’ll soon learn the hard lessons of poverty when you become the trash you are working hard to achieve if you don’t get your act together. Just you wait until I have a word with your father. This will break his heart. The event announcing your father’s candidacy is a week from Wednesday. I shouldn’t have to ask you to choose knowing your antics will destroy everything. I expect you to make the right decision.