Page 19 of In Your Dreams

“Let’s do it,” I say, pulling her in the direction of the line for it.

I sit on the outside knowing that’s the person who gets squished most. As the ride begins to spin, I put my arm on the back of the seat behind her. The force of the ride presses her into the crook of my arm and my entire left side. She doesn’t even try to keep herself from leaning into me. As the speed of theride picks up, she begins to laugh. It’s full bellied and melodic, causing me to laugh along with her.

She looks up at me, still laughing, but there’s nothing funny about the way her eyes lock with mine. Between the look she’s giving me and the spinning, I see nothing outside of her face. Everything else is blurry and irrelevant.

As the ride comes to a stop a few minutes later, it takes everything in me not to kiss her. I don’t want our first kiss to be a fleeting moment that will ultimately be rushed. It’s not like I can hold up the line for the ride just to kiss her longer. So I take her by the hand and lead her to the exit.

“You pick the next ride,” she says.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“Yeah, let’s take turns picking,” she says.

Seems like a good idea to me. So I look around and point toward the one that lifts you up high into the air and then drops you abruptly.

“Oh god,” she says. “I’m going to have a heart attack.”

“Don’t be a chicken,” I say, teasing.

She gives me a stern look, narrowing her eyes and pressing her lips together. It’s the cutest fake grumpy face I’ve ever seen—complete with a scrunched nose.

After that ride—where she didn’t have a heart attack—we go on two more before she announces she needs food before she faints. She’s got a flare for the dramatics but I find most women do when it comes to food. And to my delight, she orders a cheeseburger, fries, a soda, and a funnel cake.

“The funnel cake is for us to split,” she says after ordering.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” I say to the guy at the window.

We take a seat at a nearby picnic table and wait for them to call us. Poppy sorts through her purse and pulls out a hair tie. She gathers her blonde hair into her hands, securing it into a ponytail high on her head. There are small untucked strands framing her face and I impulsively reach out to push one behind her ear. She leans into my touch, her cheek brushing along the back of my knuckles.Dear god, this woman…

“Order up for Parker!” The man’s voice booms, breaking the moment and I reluctantly get up to grab our food. What shitty timing.

Twenty minutes later, our burgers are gone, the fries are scarce, and we’ve got our fingers dug into the center of the funnel cake. The powdered sugar is making a mess of literally everything but I don’t care. She’s smiling and sucking on her fingers and licking the mess from her lips and if heaven is a viewing room for this moment, I would be just fine to die.

“Ugh, I’m full,” she says.

“Me too,” I say, rubbing my stomach. “I think we should avoid the incredibly fast or spinning rides for a few minutes.”

“I think you’re right,” she says, her eyes connecting with a row of games where you can win stuffed animals.

“I think I need to win you one of those,” I say.

“Which one?” She asks.

“Whichever one you want,” I say.

“You seem very confident in your skills,” she says, smirking.

“I am.” I look her right in the eye. There are two things I’m certain I’m good at. One is athletic endeavors that involve any sort of throwing or tossing of balls or rings or anything else. And the second thing, well, we’re not ready to talk about that.

“I want the pink teddy bear over there,” she says, pointing.

I follow with my eyes and see the display of large pink bears hanging over the game where you toss balls into baskets. That’s it. That’s the whole game. The challenge is making sure the ball doesn’t bounce back out. It requires a certain amount of finesse.

“After you,” I say, encouraging her to lead the way.

I trail behind her for a few moments, taking in her figure. The gentle slope of her back down to the curve of her ass is a sight to behold. This isn’t the body I remember in high school but I don’t think it should be. I’m sure giving birth made some changes along with aging in general. But it’s still just as beautiful as it ever was.

I come to her side in front of the game, the guy behind the little counter making a spectacle of juggling the balls.

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