Summertime Sadness

by Dylan Heart

  I see an opening, a fleeting chance for confirmation that we couldn’t get back together. I’m not leaving on schedule, but someday, I’ll get away from this place. “Would you ever leave this town, Dillon?”

  “Why would I ever wanna leave?” He shakes his head, a curl of his lips, total happiness. “It’s got everything I’ll ever need in life. I’ve got friends, family, and enough booze to last a lifetime.”

  “Well, you know me. I couldn’t live in this town forever.”

  “Sure you could.”

  No, I really couldn’t.

  He scoots closer, wrapping his arm around my back. He’s smug, and I bet he thinks I wouldn’t notice. Never mind we spent four years together so I know the calculation of each move he makes.

  “What are you doing?” My palm tightens around the safety bar as the seat rocks to his adjustment.

  He pulls me closer with his arm. “Getting comfortable.”

  “Well, don’t get too comfortable.”

  Then it begins.

  The wheel is fully loaded like a twenty shot revolver and we begin cycling around the circle of death. Each bullet is ready to fire, sending us all to our graves. I grip the bar tighter. As our seat comes around to the bottom of the wheel, I catch Joey and Tyson drunkenly cheering us on.

  “Kiss her!” Joey screams out.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Dillon give them a thumbs up. “Don’t even think about it,” I scowl, hopefully putting that situation to rest.

  Or so I thought.

  His palm massages my thigh. “Relax,” he coos, followed by a sly grin.

  I look him dead in the eye. “No.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Near-certain death has a way of making me sweat.”

  “That’s probably the heat,” he points out, resting his hand on my leg. “I like it when you sweat.”

  “Shut up, Dillon.”

  He bites into his lip.

  Shit.

  That was always the last straw before I was lying on my back on his parents’ basement couch.

  “Wanna make me?”

  I don’t respond. Then, without warning, his lips are pressed to mine with the speed of Clark Kent. Yeah, it feels good but our seat begins rocking like a boat in Jaws. I push him off me, which doesn’t help our life-threatening situation.

  “What are you doing?”

  He shrugs his shoulders again. “Just saying goodbye.”

  “Most people say goodbye with their mouths.”

  His eyes roll toward the top of his head, then he lights up with that damn smile. “That’s what I was doing.”

  I throw my hands up. I’ve lost. I resign. I quit. I surrender. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He lowers his hand to his jeans and begins to adjust himself.

  Oh, my God.

  We’re close to the bottom of the wheel again and from behind us, Tyson yells, “Rock that boat! Rock it, Daddy!”

  I throw my middle finger up at him. It’s a sign of love. Dillon’s still adjusting himself, and at this point, I’m not sure if he’s doing it for comfort or pleasure.

  “Could you quit playing with yourself?”

  The ride comes to a halt, the bucket jerking and the gears grinding against each other. It’s time to get off this damn spinning wheel of hell. I crane my head and look behind us to see that they’re unloading backward. A mother and son hop out of their seats and exit. And we’re next.

  I look back to Dillon and mercilessly slap his dick.

  “Ow,” he yelps. “What the hell?”

  “Put that thing away before you end up in prison.”

  “I’m trying. Why don’t you try having a dick?”

  “Oh, I would love to have one.” If I did have a penis, I’m almost positive my list of sexual partners would be more than one.

  It’s our turn to exit the ride. I raise the bar and hop off onto the platform, leaving Dillon behind. I have no intention of going down with his sinking ship. Unfortunately for my sense of self-preservation, he’s the worst ship captain in the world because he jumps off and wraps his arms around me. His erection presses against the small of my back. He’s a fugitive taking refuge behind me and using my body as a human shield.

  So romantic, just like the old times. Joey and Tyson look on in amusement, sipping away at the whiskey they have so slyly hidden in styrofoam cups. They’re not bright enough to know what’s really going on and probably assume that Dillon and I have hitched our wagons back together.

  My ex-boyfriend and I push through the metal gate. Once we’re back on solid ground, I pull away from him, leaving the tent in his pants wide open. Joey throws his fist to his mouth, his face turning cherry red as he fights to hold back the laughter.

  “Dickzilla!” Tyson yells as he mimics the famed reptile. “Argh.”

  I turn around and step toward Dillon, getting close enough so the heat of my body teases him. After he dragged me on that damn ride, it’s the least I can do for him. I look into his eyes and go in for a kiss–landing right on his right cheek.

  “You’re teasin’ me,” he says through gritted teeth.

  “Something like that,” I say and turn to walk away, making the most of the way the jean shorts curve around the base of ass.

  “Someday,” he hollers, “you’ll be mine again.”

  Someday. I’ve heard that a lot today.

  Chapter Three

  Fifteen minutes before the fair is set to close, I find myself standing in line for the Zipper. In front of me are about ten teens, presumably out well past their curfew. The sign on the gate reads ‘No Singel Riders’ misspelled and all. And here I am alone and ready to wrestle my single riding ass into one of those cages. I’m the last person in line so I’m hoping to get a free pass.

  The line begins moving as they load the delinquents into the cages two by two. Two carnies—one on the left and one on the right, each doing their job of latching their respective cages shut. The carnie who stands the furthest away from me has a nice little bubble butt. Can’t say much for the rest of the package as his back is turned to me. Certainly couldn’t be worse than the toothless meth head on my side. I consider switching lines out of concern that he would incompetently secure me in his allegedly high state. But, hey, danger’s part of the game.

  It’s my turn. I push the gate open and dart for the cage without making eye contact with the carnie. I multitask between shutting the cage myself and grabbing my seat belt. It would seem that I’ve succeeded in averting that stupid rule.

  “No single riders,” I hear him say.

  I try to think quickly for an appropriate response as the rugged carnie opens my cage and gives me a disapproving glare.

  “Nobody has to know,” I say with a toss of my shoulder.

  “I could lose my job,” he huffs.

  “Well,” I say and rub the back of my neck. “Why don’t you ride with me?” My hand caresses the seat beside me, inviting him in. And yes, I’m embarrassed by my own behavior.

  “No, ma’am.” His hand grabs the cage and rattles it. “Don’t trust these things.”

  That’s promising. I purse my lips. “Please?”

  “Fine.” He turns around and calls out to the other carnie. “Hey, get your ass over here. Got a pretty little thing that needs a partner.”

  Correct. In life and in this damn cage. The other carnie latches his cage shut then turns around and—

  It’s Blue. How sweet of him to volunteer his time for the county fair. I wonder when he got off work. Why didn’t he call me?

  Oh, my God... Is he still at work?

  After that internal debate in my head, it hits me like a semi full of No shit. This is his work. He’s a carnie. Many things speed through my mind—My life has come to this; Even Chelsea Handler wouldn’t sink this low; What will I tell my mother?; I’ve never seen such beautiful blue eyes.

  So yeah, once again those fucking eyes have become decision-making factors. The mental battle is
over, but I still haven’t snapped out of it.

  The steel cage door slamming shut and being locked into place pulls me back to reality—a universe where I’m now closer than I’ve ever been to this beautiful stranger. We sit shoulder to shoulder, our arms rubbing against each other.

  His lips rest on his teeth, grinning from ear to ear. He obviously isn’t aware of the thoughts writing themselves in my mind, and he’s definitely not ashamed of his profession.

  “I lost my phone,” he says.

  “Why did you lie when I asked if you worked here?”

  “I didn’t want to scare you away,” he says nonchalantly.

  That was probably smart of him, but I’m not sure what difference a few hours could make. I’m torn though—one part of me wants to do the dangerous thing and fuck him in the house of mirrors. The other part of me wants to throw open the cage and run because I’m better than that. I couldn’t be with Dillon because I wanted something different, something a little dangerous. But is Blue a little bit too much of both?

  All night I’ve been enamored with this perfect stranger, then a switch flips and I’m torn between playful flirting and messy seduction. I don’t know if he actually wants either but since he’s a guy, I assume he’s at least down for the latter.

  “You wouldn’t have scared me away.” Fifty percent chance that’s a lie, fifty percent it’s not. Not even I am in the loop of what I want. It’s only been about three months since high school graduation and a little longer than that since my dad tore my family apart. In that space of unquestioned dreams and paralyzing fears, I’ve lost the person I was so sure I wanted to be. That uncertainty has carried over into the rest of my decisions like the nosy bitch that lives next door. Can I have a cup of sugar?

  No bitch, strap in your toddlers and drive your ass to Save-A-Lot and get your own.

  “Is that right?” He lets out a relieved chuckle. “You must be a carnie chaser then.”

  “Yeah, they’re hard to resist.”

  “You know what I think, Charlie?”

  I turn to him. “What do you think, Blue?”

  He has a face full of intent, like he’s about to say something caught between sweet and philosophic. “I think the ride’s about to start.” His palms push against the roof, the hem of his dirtied shirt riding up his strong biceps. “No hands?”

  I get what he’s going for—that unrivaled thrill of riding a roller coaster with your hands in the air. That feeling when your innards float in all the wrong places. This isn’t exactly that, and it certainly isn’t no hands, but it’s a petty exchange of semantics that I’m not about to get into. I just put my palms to the roof and we’re off.

  Blue’s hollering echoes everything I’m feeling on the inside. We flip forward and backward. For all intents and purposes, we flip sideways too—a physical impossibility without crashing to the ground, but sideways we go.

  One, two, three flips in a row. Reaching the top of the rotating axis, we’re flung upside down. It’s the moment where thrills reach the point of climax. The point in the ride when everything has lined up perfectly—the cage, the axis, and the chains. If that happens at the tip of the axis, then it feels as if you are being thrown into another world. At the very least, it feels like you’ve been thrown from the chains.

  Two minutes in this cage feels like a lifetime in seconds. Two minutes in this cage with Blue feels like being swamped by a thousand migrating butterflies, each of them fluttering and fighting each other just to get a taste of passion. The childish grin on his face, in between shouts of ecstasy, argues with his strong, muscular body as we flip.

  We could lose a bolt with every tumble and I probably wouldn’t notice. We could be one bolt away from breaking news and I wouldn’t be any the wiser. The cage could fly open and I wouldn’t even know it until I woke up in hell.

  Face it, a girl like me, that’s exactly where I’m going. If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, I must be lost somewhere on the backroads.

  Blue turns to me with his palms still pressed against the roof. It’s magnetic, and I have no choice but to look right back. Neon lights swirl behind him, illuminating half his face at once. He’s just as perfect in the shadows as he is in the light. There’s something in those eyes—a lifetime of stories and I want nothing more than to go down the rabbit hole.

  Engines roar from the derby in the distance and just like the crashed-up cars there, I know what it feels like to be wrecked. This ride won’t last forever, and when it comes to a stop, I need to have made a decision.

  Decision made.

  He’s right behind me. I’m not running, but I’m not walking either. If I really wanted to, I could get away from him with ease. The fact that I haven’t means I’m still contemplating an illicit one night stand.

  We’re outside the fairgrounds and in the first of two fields. There are still hundreds of cars even though the fair has technically shut down—blame the congestion on the derby that is now well into overtime.

  “Charlie,” he hollers. “Wait up.”

  The sound of his brisk footsteps against the dry grass morphs into a sprint as he runs to the front of me and turns around to face me. Walking backward while talking isn’t something I would attempt, especially not at the pace he’s maintaining.

  “I have to get home.”

  “Let me take you,” he says between ragged breaths.

  “I’m illegally parked.”

  “But you’re walking toward the field.”

  “That’s where my car is...”

  His head tilts as if he’s confused. “How can you illegally park in a field?”

  That stops me dead in my lying tracks. My fingers run through my hair. “You caught me.”

  “I get the feeling that you’re trying to avoid me.” He shakes his head and gestures with his hand. “I can leave you alone if you want.”

  “You’re a great guy and you’re adorable,” I say. “And by adorable I mean hotter than Mars.”

  His cheeks blush and he grabs the back of his head. “So what’s the problem, then?”

  “I don’t know.” I swallow a quick breath. “We’re from two different worlds.”

  “I’m not trying to marry you...”

  “That’s good. You couldn’t afford a ring.”

  “You sure? I got a nice little savings account.” He moves in closer. “One of the perks of living out of a camper for nine months out of the year.”

  “A camper?” I say and push my body against him.

  “Yeah. It’s real comfortable.”

  I bite into my lip. “I bet.”

  And just like that, I’m sucked back in. I can’t control myself when it comes to him, and that’s not normal for two reasons—I’m always in control and hello, Don’t talk to strangers. It’s as if I can’t think rationally and it’s liberating. And I swear to fucking God if I’m on the verge of instalove, I will never forgive myself.

  “I’d give you a tour, but it’s getting late and I’ve got a roommate.” His hand brushes against my waist. My tongue rolls across the inside of my lip.

  “I have to go home,” I blurt out and turn to walk away. I wipe the dampness off my forehead. Blue grabs me by the arm and spins me back around.

  “I want you to stay,” he says sternly. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  “Do you say that to all the girls?”

  “No,” he says. “I usually avoid all the other girls. They tend to be crazy, and not in a cute way.”

  I gaze into his eyes, trying to read him under the starlit sky. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Blue, remember? We met earlier today.”

  I can’t help but smile. He cups my chin with his rough palm, raising me up so that he can peek into my soul with his eyes. He comes in slow and presses his lips against mine. They’re even softer than I remember. He’s rough in places and smooth in others. Everything about him is a contradiction.

  Both his hands move to my cheeks, caressing them as we ki
ss. I grab him by the waist, pulling him closer to me. My hands rise to his chest, pushing him back so I can breathe.

  “Let’s go somewhere a little more private.” I grab his hand and lead him through the field. We pass the last row of parked cars and cross into the second field. The field is mostly empty, and I can spot my car from a distance. It sits alone by a solitary tree.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To my illegally parked car.”

  Chapter Four

  Blue’s palms hold firm against my cheeks as we glide backward, our feet cycling through blades of dry grass. His lips massage mine as we fumble through the dark, and I can’t help but think this would be the worst time in the history of my life to trip. My back meets the warm metal of the car door, and Blue pushes himself into me, pinning me to the Civic. My head tilts back as his head drops to my neck, mouthing a path to the bone of my chin.

  My back arches to the firm grip of his hand wrapping around me. His warm breath brushes against my ear, sending stray strands of hair into the darkness. I dig into his back, grabbing a fistful of damp, thin fabric. I push myself into him, craving the heat of his body on this humid night.

  The hardness in his jeans rubs against me.

  This has to be the quickest way to start a fire.

  His lips swell against my neck and the scent of musk and sweat is all too much. I sway my hips and grind against him, causing his whole body to tense up. His hand rolls into a fist against the glass of the car as if he’s trying to hold himself back.

  “Charlie,” he rasps. “I want you.”

  My hands fold against his chest, and I push him back so our eyes can tangle. He can say it all he wants, but I need to see that want in his eyes. Those blue beauties swarm with lust like the rolling clouds in the sky that have overtaken the starry night. There’s no use pretending anymore. No more pretending that I’m someone or something else, like I’m not about to be that girl who fucks a perfect stranger—a carnie—in the grass outside of a carnival.

  I give him a nod of assurance, but his entire body rests in place, his chest heaving. He’s not exactly taking the hint. “You can have me.”