Page 78 of Hopeless
I thought a good old-fashioned fair game would do the trick.
The hammer hits the pad, and the weight flies up to the top. The sharp ding of metal rings out around us, and the surrounding people watching cheer. I turn, all puffed up like a teenager showing off for his crush.
Except today it’s for my fiancée. I flex and kiss a bicep like a total tool. But I don’t care. The girl laughing at me makes it worth the embarrassment.
I grin at her. Bailey bites down on a smirk and rolls her eyes.
“Alright, kid,” the rough-around-the-edges carnie says. His mullet, which ends in a scraggly gray braid, sways as he waves at the wall of stuffed animals behind him. “Pick of the litter for you and your muscles.”
Some girl shouts my name, asking me to pick something for her, but it’s not Bailey’s voice, so I don’t bother giving her a glance. Instead, I analyze the wall of stuffed toys.
“The horse!” Bailey calls out to me.
I check it out, but it’s too small. I’m not letting her walk around the town fair with a tiny prize when I just made this game my bitch.
I’m not replacing her ripped horse with some cheap fair prize, either.
I take a step toward the end.
“Beau Eaton, don’t you dare pick something huge.”
I turn to face her now. She shakes her head at me as I walk backward, straight into the waiting arms of … a giant stuffed raccoon. The biggest toy they’ve got.
“Why not, future Mrs. Eaton?” I call back, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt. “You love that massive rock I put on your finger, don’t you?”
“Beau.” I guess it’s her turn to use my name as a single-word scolding.
“You also like my massive—”
“Beau Eaton!” She rushes forward, clamping a palm over my mouth. Her eyes sparkle while her loose hair dances in the breeze—she’s fuckingglowing.
“I was going to say motorcycle, sugar,” I mumble behind her hand. Then I turn out of her grip to the carny. “I’ll take the massive raccoon, sir.”
“Sir?” The man chuckles as he unclips the oversized stuffed animal. “Not sure I’ve ever been called a ‘sir’ before.”
When he hands me the raccoon, I instantly pass it over to Bailey, amused by the way it reaches from beneath her chin down to her knees.
“This is ridiculous,” she says, peeking around a furry shoulder.
“Utterly,” I agree.
“Am I supposed to carry it all night?”
I throw an arm over her shoulder, getting more and more comfortable touching her. I don’t even think about it. I just draw her close. “It? Kinda harsh. He deserves a name, don’t you think?”
“Who said it’s a male?” she volleys back, smiling up at me. Even with an oversized raccoon in her arms, she finally seems at ease.
So it kills me when I hear someone say in a stage whisper, “Bailey Jansen carrying around a trash panda is the only thing that makes sense about that relationship.”
How fucking dare someone say that loud enough for her to hear?
My eyes narrow and I go to turn, instantly ready for a fight, but Bailey is just as fast.
Her hand shoots up and wraps around my wrist, giving it a sharp tug. “Don’t bother.”
“Bailey, people aren’t allowed to talk to you like that.”
“She wasn’t talkingtome.” Bailey tugs again, urging me forward. “She was talkingaboutme. And that’s not new. Let it go.”
