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“Just leave me alone,” I say. “I’m here aren’t I? I never said I’d make out with the guy.”
“I didn’t ask you to. Didn’t think I had to… look at him!”
I had to admit Alex’s friend Trent was pretty handsome; in that arrogant, frat boy kind of way. Perfect hair, nice eyes, strong chin, and athletic. Not a bad package—if you like that sort of thing. He flashes a toothy white smile my way as I suck a fruit smoothie from a straw. Rochelle elbows me, so I smile back, just to be cordial. Flirting is the last thing on my mind.
He and Alex are playing a shooting game on the makeshift midway set up in a parking lot of the ASU campus. Lights and bells ding and flash everywhere, adding to the white noise of people’s voices and laughter. The smells of popcorn and hotdogs waft through the evening air, and as much as I love hotdogs, the aroma is making me nauseous again.
I see lots of families have come out to join the fun and support the cause, too. I think of Rose and Logan, and imagine them strolling around this venue—Rose holding a balloon on a string. I miss her. With a sigh, I wonder what she’d think of having a new baby brother or sister to play with.
But she’ll probably never even know she has one.
“Hey!” I hear Alex shout as he wins at his game and waves Rochelle over to pick out her prize. They look so cute together, Roch and Alex; I envy their steady, fun-loving relationship. It seems so simple when you look at them. Why couldn’t all relationships be like that? Simple. Straightforward. Uncomplicated.
I glance over at Trent as he stands back from Alex, conceding his friend’s besting him at water pistols. Tall and tanned, he’ll be a good catch for somebody, someday. But not me. What college guy would want me now… damaged goods and with a “bun in the oven.” I’m hurting too much right now to even think about a man, any man, except the one who’s broken my heart and planted his seed in my womb.
I want to tell Rochelle that my drugstore test came up positive, tell her the whole miserable story that she claims to be so anxious to hear. She’ll be sorry she asked, but if I know my friend she’ll offer a big strong shoulder for me to cry on nevertheless. I couldn’t imagine us hanging out like this again, single and carefree. I might be single, but far from carefree.
“Looks like I’m the loser in this race,” Trent says, coming up alongside me. “C’mon. We’ll find another game I’m good at and win you an even bigger prize than Rochelle’s got.” He links his arm in mine and leads me further down the midway. “So I hear you’re practically a psychologist. I hope you don’t head shrink me before we have a chance to get to know each other better.”
I roll my eyes at his comment. Everyone thinks of you as a “shrink.” There are many more career pathways in the psychology field than people realize. “Actually, I plan to be a counselor after I finish my Masters. I won’t have a fancy office or a couch. I might even work with social services—helping people who need it most.”
“Mmm, too bad. I’d lie on your couch anytime, Dr. Quinn.” Trent laughs out loud. “Hey, wasn’t that a TV show? Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman?”
I try to humor him and laugh politely, but I’m not very good company tonight. It’s not Trent’s fault. He seems a nice enough guy, but I have too much on my mind to pay him much attention.
“Hey, where are you two lovebirds going?” Rochelle shouts from behind. She and Alex catch up to us, Alex carrying the four-foot-tall stuffed giraffe that he’s won.
“Oh, just looking for another booth where I can demonstrate my gaming prowess for the brilliant Dr. Quinn here,” Trent answers.
“Uh, don’t hold your breath for a kewpie doll, Quinn. Most of Trent’s prowess gets demonstrated elsewhere,” Alex warns. “Like in the bedroom.”
Rochelle giggles hysterically. “Good luck with that, Trent. Our Quinnie would probably bring a textbook along to make sure you’re doing it right.”
I shoot my friend a withering glare. The only bedroom textbook I’ll ever need lives next door to me; and I’d give anything for another of his lessons, just to be near him again. But that’s not happening.
“I don’t need any prizes,” I say to Trent. “And I’ll take Alex’s word on your other talents. Honestly, the noise and lights are kinda getting to me. I think I’ll wander over to the kiddie section where things move a little slower, if you guys don’t mind.”
“I’ll go with you,” Trent says, his eyes lighting up.
“Great idea. You two go find a quiet spot where you can… talk,” Rochelle says, displaying a wicked grin. “We’ll be over at the beer tent when you want to find us. I think my giraffe is thirsty.” She directs her last statement toward Alex, still holding the giant plush monstrosity.
“Your wish is my command, my lady,” Alex says with a bow.
They waltz off arm in arm, and again I’m envious. I suggested the kiddie area because I wanted some time alone, thinking my companions wouldn’t want to go there. But now I have Trent tagging along, and I don’t have the heart or the energy to tell him to buzz off.
“You like kids, Quinn?” Trent asks.
My guts twist at his words, and I take a deep breath. “I do. I hope to have some of my own someday.”
“Me too,” he says. “But not for a long time. I’ve got big plans.”
Which can’t include me, Mr. High Roller. I see a carousel at the far end of the midway and move toward it through the crowd. It’s getting a little late for the young ones, so I expect the kiddie park to be relatively empty. As we get near the entrance, Trent stops at a booth selling funnel cakes and buys one with cinnamon and powdered sugar on top.
“Sweets for the sweet,” he says, breaking off a big chunk and offering it to me. The warm sugary aroma doesn’t bother me the way the greasy hot dogs did, so I toss my empty smoothie cup into the trash and take the piece of cake graciously. He’s trying to be so nice; I don’t want to hurt his feelings.
“Thanks,” I say, and take a bite, the lively calliope music growing louder as we stroll closer to the carousel. The light, fresh-fried cake melts in my mouth, and though I know I should be eating healthy, I can’t help but let out a groan of pleasure.
“Oh, my God, that’s good,” I mumble, my mouth still partially full. You didn’t have to worry about table manners at a carnival.
