Page 72 of Magic for Nothing

“I can handle the wheel,” said Sam. “Why don’t you go get a cup of coffee?”

“Cool by me,” said the ride jock. “She’s all yours.” Then he leered at me, just to make sure we got his point, before he laughed and wandered off.

I leaned against the fence while Sam stood next to the controls and scowled at anyone who seemed too interested. “How is this supposed to work? Riding alone is fun and all, but it’s not really a good end to our date.”

“You’ll see. Just trust me for a minute.”

“Hmm. Trust you.” I tilted my head, pretending to think about it. “I suppose you’ve earned a little trust. I shall trust you for one minute.”

“Thank you.” He leaned against the ride console, continuing to glare at townies as they walked past. He had an excellent glare. He’d clearly spent a lot of time perfecting it.

I took advantage of the pause to look at him. I’d been looking at him all night, but this was really looking, the sort of sappy, concentrated stare that only ever seemed to be okay on a night like this one, under the cloudy Minnesota sky. Before he’d kissed me, he’d been Sam, a boy I liked okay, but didn’t really have any illusions about. He’d been nice, he’d been funny, I’d had a few dirty thoughts about the strength of his hands and the seemingly effortless way he lifted me on the trapeze, but that had been about as far as it had gone. I had long since learned not to expect anything more than that, because it never happened. When it came to guys, I was too loud, too aggressive, too sarcastic—too me. Boys wanted delicate and dainty and flirty and fun. They wanted my sister. I was an afterthought at best.

Except for Sam, who was apparently not interested in what boys wanted. He wanted what he wanted, and what he wanted was me. So I looked at him, standing there with his shoulders stiff and his face fixed into a scowl, obviously weary from the effort of staying human for so long. I would have felt bad about that, except for the part where everyone makes an effort on a first date. I had smiled, and ridden things I normally would have passed on, and not punched anyone who made comments about my skirt riding up when I was leaning forward to throw darts. We were both putting our best face forward.

I just hoped he didn’t think this was the face I needed.

“Okay,” said Sam, snapping me out of my contemplation. “Get on.”

I looked around. The townies were gone. There might still be a few lingering on the grounds, but they no longer had the numbers to compel anything from the staff. “Get on?”

“The Ferris wheel.”

I gave him a dubious look. “Again, I don’t want to ride alone.”

“Just get on.”

The Ferris wheel was a tempting circle cut out of the night. I shook my head to remind him of my doubts, and I got on, settling myself into the waiting basket seat and clipping my safety bar across my lap. The wheel began to turn. When it reached the top, it stopped, and I was suspended against the night, with the darkening carnival spread out in front of me, the bone yard twinkling beyond it like a field of stars. I relaxed against the seat, enjoying the way it rocked, and the feeling of the wind blowing through my hair.

At least, until the seat rocked violently from the impact of something larger than I was. I whipped around, tensing. Sam grinned at me. He was hanging off the side of the basket seat, his tail curled around the safety bar and his bare feet gripping next to his hands. For the first time all night, he actually looked relaxed.

“Took you long enough,” I said, forcing my own shoulders to unlock. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t tell you to scram now that I’ve remembered how nice it is up here.”

“I’m super cute,” he said earnestly. “Science says you should let me stay.”

“Oh, well, if it’s science, come on in.”

He slipped into the seat, getting the safety bar across his lap, and started to inhale—the first step to tensing enough to be human again. I didn’t stop to think, just reached over and grabbed his hand, breaking his concentration.

“Don’t,” I said. “You’re fine exactly as you are.”

Sam blinked. “Are you sure? I mean, I’ve never . . .”

“You mean the girls who’ve kissed you before have only ever wanted to kiss you when you looked human?”

He nodded. I wondered whether it was a sign of becoming a jealous girlfriend that I suddenly wanted to punch all his exes. I decided probably not. I was not Scott Pilgrim, and this was not a video game. They were just all jerks.

“Then they were jerks,” I said, word mirroring thought. “Come here.”

He scooted over, looking almost shy. I leaned over, and I kissed him.

His skin was warmer this way, but his lips were the same, and his hair felt like fur when I slid my fingers through it. He wrapped his tail around my waist, pulling me closer still, and we sat there at the top of the Ferris wheel, kissing each other and pretending that the rest of the world didn’t matter, because in that moment, in that embrace, it didn’t.

Nineteen

“We can run from our past, but the past follows. One step at a time, forever, the past follows.”

—Enid Healy