Page 49

Regardless, he’s probably right—there are so many people I doubt I’ll stand out, so I pry my sweater off and knot it around my waist, exposing my bare arms to the sun. The heat soaks into my skin, and it’s the dry type, not the humid type, so I don’t suffocate.

The shops are my favorite part of local fairs, even if I don’t spend money. I like seeing people’s passions and creativity, which is why I demand we go there first.

I lose myself quickly among the shops, particularly the handcrafted goods tents. I don’t wear jewelry, but I like shiny things, so I take my time eyeing the assortment of necklaces, bracelets, and rings. As I examine a black earring shaped like a dagger, I gasp, whirling toward Aaron. He’s not inspecting the jewelry, but he seems content to be here, a small smile lighting his face.

“You have a stud!” I say, gesturing to his tiny black earring.

“I have a stud,” he confirms.

“Would you wear this?” I point at the dagger with poorly concealed enthusiasm. “It seems like your style, yeah?”

He follows my finger and smiles wider. “Absolutely,” he says lightly. “Should I get it?”

My instinct is to say yes, but I bite my tongue, because he might just be trying to appease me. “If you like it,” I say stiffly, and he shields his mouth to laugh. He snatches the dagger earring off the counter and hands it to the merchant. She examines him a few seconds too long as she swipes his card before offering him a baggie and thanking him for returning to support her business.

He removes the stud from his ear and drops it into a pocket on his shorts, then hands me the bag. “Would you put it on me?”

It’s a simple enough request, but it makes me blush. Still, I convinced him to get it, so I can do this much. I pluck the earring out, and Aaron bends low enough that I can see his ice-gray eyes teeming with mischief over his sunglasses. As I slide the post of the dagger through his earlobe, my eyes wander to the narcissus flower in the divot behind it. It’s pretty. Neatly shaded and elegant despite its size. It’s even got a stem and a few slender leaves.

Suddenly, the tattoo is gone, and I’m still fumbling with the dagger earring, but my fingers are skinnier. Gaunt.

I scrunch my eyes shut, then reopen them warily. The tattoo is back. My hands are fuller, my skin healthier. The only thing that doesn’t change is the earring.

“I…I made you buy this last year!” I cry out, reeling away from him with mortification. “The same exact earring! You made me put it on you!”

Aaron sucks his lips between his teeth, clearly wanting to laugh but noticing my skyrocketing frustration levels. “Congratulations on another found memory,” he says, to which I groan and smack my hands over my face.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me? I can’t believe I made you buy this twice! I bet you don’t even like it, since you’ve never worn it.”

“You didn’t make me do anything.” He twists his fingers into the backs of my hands, tickling until I drop them. “You’re experiencing today for the first time. I don’t want to ruin that. And the reason I stopped wearing it is because I accidentally stabbed you with it once while I was giving you a hickey.”

“You shouldn’t waste your money,” I say, ignoring that last part.

“It’s not a waste. You saw something and thought of me.” He smiles and pokes at the dagger. “It’s worth everything.”

Oh no. I want to kiss him again.

I shake my head of my flustered bewilderment and scan rapidly for the next shop to dart to. “Let’s go there!” I choke out, hauling him to a tent diagonal from us and nearly ramming the shoulder of an elderly woman in my desperation to escape. Aaron follows after me as I plunge into a ceramics and pottery tent that makes my eyes glisten. I don’t need any of it, but then I spot a ceramic bowl with a design clearly influenced by Ming dynasty porcelain.

“Gah,” I say, gesturing at the cobalt and white coloring and intricate floral design.

“Tell me more,” Aaron encourages.

“Ming porcelain became really popular after the Yuan dynasty, when China regained control after Mongol rule. It was a huge export for places like Japan and Europe. The designs sometimes took influence from Tibetan art—I’ll show you comparisons later. Anyway, this pottery has the same colors and common designs from that time period.” I realize I’m rambling and clear my throat, tearing my eyes away. “Watched a documentary.”

Aaron examines the bowl in great detail, placating my enthusiasm. Then, he scoops it up and brings it to the cashier.

“Put it back!” I squeak, snatching his elbow.

“I said I’d buy you anything you want.”

“It’s expensive, though!”

Aaron offers another smirk that fries my face. “I have a big-boy job, sunshine. It’s fine. This artist wasn’t here last time, so it’s not even a duplicate purchase.”

So he buys it, then gets it wrapped and boxed so it won’t shatter. My overwhelming guiltiness isn’t worth the satisfaction of draining his pockets, so I decide not to indicate interest in anything else. Though, I’m still not ready to leave the tents, and I feel safer out here where there’s less food to poison me, so I continue meandering with Aaron at my elbow. He’s not particularly interested in the shops, but he seems happy anyway. Maybe because I’m letting him hold my sweaty hand.

We’re passing a wood figurine tent when his stride hitches just enough to notice.