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A firework goes off, and we look up at the dark sky where white sparkles arc in the air. They glimmer and fade as they fall back toward the earth. Another loud boom shakes the ground as red sparks explode outward into a ring, and people around us stop to stare at the heavens, entranced by the show.
I lay my head on his shoulder, and his arm pulls me closer against his warm chest. A smile forms on my face as we sit here in silence, watching the fireworks launch into the air with a whistle, followed by a thunderous bang.
Perhaps I should add Dmitry to the list of people I can sit in comfortable silence with.
When Prisha comes back with the bottle of water, the two of us break apart.
“Drink this,” she says, handing it to me. “I got one for you, too.”
She hands one to Dmitry, who accepts it with thanks. Prisha sits in beside me on the bench, and the three of us watch the remainder of the show. By the time it’s over, I’ve chugged my water, and I feel somewhat less tipsy.
But as I sober, a chill settles in its place, and it isn’t from the weather. I peer over my shoulder, sweeping the crowd for anything out of the ordinary. But everything appears normal.
So why do I get the feeling I’m being watched?
A stand nearby is selling flower crowns and masquerade masks, ranging from simple to decked out in rhinestones and feathers. Come to think of it, a lot of people are wearing them as they mill around the fairgrounds.
“What’s that about?” I ask, nodding at the booth.
“It’s a Spring Festival tradition,” Dmitry explains. “After sundown, young people wear masks to hide their faces.”
“Why?”
“Because spring represents blossoming love, and young lovers wear them to keep their identity hidden from the watchful eyes of their parents as they… you know.”
He can’t even say the word sex. How adorable.
“I want a flower crown,” Prisha says.
“Me too!” I add.
Dmitry leads us to the booth, where Prisha and I take our time trying on different flower crowns in all colors. She settles on a yellow daisy chain with ribbons down her back, and I pick one with purple and pink roses. Dmitry picks out a plain black mask and hands the vendor some money. We take off in the direction of the rides, looking for something to do.
Prisha is afraid of heights, Dmitry gets motion sickness, and I’m one tilt-a-whirl away from throwing up all the grease and sugar in my system. So, our options are limited.
“Hey, there’s a house of mirrors,” Dmitry says. “When I was a child, I used to play a game with my friends. We each took turns going through the maze, and we timed it to see who finished it the fastest.”
“That sounds fun,” I say. “Who’s going first?”
Prisha makes a sour face and shakes her head. “Not me. It looks spooky, like a clown might jump out and attack you.”
“You’re afraid of heights and clowns?” I ask.
“What if I went through first?” Dmitry offers. “I’ll make sure it’s safe before the two of you take your turn.”
I bump my shoulder against his arm. “Such a gentleman.”
A gentleman would offer a lady his coat.
I’m no gentleman.
Dmitry kept me warm tonight, and he’s been nothing less than chivalrous. The complete opposite of Alek.
I don’t have much experience with nice boys, but maybe I should give them a try.
He waves and takes off toward the house of mirrors, and Prisha waits until he disappears into the maze before turning to me.
“I saw you two cuddling,” she says, clapping her hands in excitement. “I knew he liked you.”
