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“Take-out,” I said promptly.
He snorted. “Get a plate.”
After breakfast, I slipped back into my little black dress and heels. Ryan grinned at me. “Shut up.” I was perfectly aware I looked like I was about to perform a walk of shame. I smoothed the skirt down. “This is New York. People wear black dresses all the time. Besides, it’s nine, not some ridiculously early hour.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“And yet I have no problem reading your mind.”
“I’d give you a ride home, except you might have that skirt problem again.”
I leaned my shoulder against the wall and crossed my arms. “You know, you were really pushing it that day.”
“You had spent a fair amount of time insulting me.”
“You know you deserved it.” I looked back down at my skirt. “This is actually a much fuller skirt than the other one, and I am wearing tights.” I looked up and smiled hopefully. “Pretty please? To the subway, at least?”
He grinned. “Oh, fine. I need to be at the stadium in a while anyway.”
Ten minutes later we were on his bike, my arms fastened around his waist, my thighs pressed along his. I deeply regretted not jumping him last night when I had the chance. So much for platonic friendship.
He’d barely started his bike when I shouted into his ear. “Wait! Go straight!”
“Into the park? Rachael...”
“Come on. You’ve never been on a carousel? Your inner child is crying!”
“I rode horses!” he cried, frustrated, but he went anyway.
I sighed happily when we stood in front of the carousel building, red brick and white stone covered by a two-tiered, peaked green roof. “They found it abandoned on Coney Is
land in 1950. But it’s over a hundred years old.” We wove past the popcorn and balloon venders until we stood in line, close enough to peer through at the prancing mares and the rearing black stallions. “There are fifty-seven horses and two chariots.” I paused. “The entire team could be on it at the same time.”
Ryan shook his head. “Is this one of those memorizing-random-stuff like the poker thing?”
“No, this is a love kind-of-thing.” I pointed at a white horse with a black, flowing mane and rainbow colored accouterments. “She’s my favorite.”
To my surprise, Ryan laughed and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Someday, I’m going to get you on an actual horse.”
“But this has a soundtrack!” I protested, smiling.
When we tried to buy our tickets, the vender refused to let us pay. “Win against those damn Steelers,” he told Ryan, shaking his head. “If I have to listen to my brother-in-law gloat one more time...”
Ryan smiled. “I’ll do my best.”
I shook my head as we walked by, entering the carousel’s enclosure. “I must have seen that man half-a-dozen times and he never waved my fee.”
“Half-a-dozen times? Rach, sometimes I worry about you.”
I laughed. “Pick your steed, sir,” I said, in a fairly awful English accent. Ryan tugged my hair affectionately and stepped toward the closest horse, a brown bay. “No, not that one.” I dropped back to my normal voice. “You should be on one of the armored horses.” I dragged him about until we found a brown horse covered in red and blue and green armor, plated up his neck and head. A blue saddle sat atop his protective blankets.
“You have a lot of rules.” But he got on the horse.
The other horses filled with children and parents. One of the fathers took a second glance at Ryan but was quickly distracted by his crying two year old. Then cheery organ music filled the air, and we started to move. Looking over at Ryan, bobbing slowly up and down on his horse of many colors, warmth bubbled up inside me. “Smile!”
“I look ridiculous.”
“So what?” I craned my head to watch the green of the park spin by as we faced the entrance. When we cycled into the covered portion of the ride, I twisted to see the carousel’s inner column, painted pale blue and decorated with carnival themes.
