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“Sure.”
More awkward, uncomfortable silence. How did we get to this point? To where we no longer have comfortable silence? It’s tragic. It shouldn’t be like this with Trace.
He reaches over to pull my hand away from my wrist and intertwine our fingers. “Hey, it’s just me.”
I pull
my hand out of his. “Yeah, it is just you,” I say quietly. It’s just the guy who I completely trusted, had fallen in love with, had depended on, and needed during the good and the bad. Just the guy who broke up with me and shattered my heart into pieces I’m still trying to put back together. Yep. It’s just Trace.
Nothing else is said the rest of the way. I don’t think Trace knows what to do with this distance between us either. He’ll have to figure it out if he wants me back.
At first glance, it doesn’t seem that busy at the fair. But once we make it past the entrance, I see that I’m mistaken and I unthinkingly reach for Trace’s hand and move closer to him.
“Once we get away from the entrance, it should lighten up,” he reassures me. Maybe it’s my imagination, but I swear he slows his pace as if once we get away from the main crowd, I’ll release his hand and move away from him and he’s trying to prolong the inevitable. He doesn’t need to worry about that. My anxiety has already launched up a few notches and I’m not going anywhere just yet. Like it or not, Trace still brings me comfort.
I slowly relax as we aimlessly stroll through the fairgrounds.
Trace’s chuckle causes me to tilt my head back and look at him. “God, I haven’t been to a fair since I was a kid.”
“Bringing back a lot of memories? I’ve never actually been to one.”
He stops walking and stares at me in disbelief. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Pretty sure I’ve always been full of anxiety and I didn’t like the little festivals in elementary school, so whenever my parents asked if I wanted to go to a fair, I said no.” I shrug. “They never dragged me anyway.”
“Have you even had cotton candy or a candied apple, or corn dipped in butter or fried oreos or a huge turkey leg?” I shake my head. “We should go to the state fair this fall. You’ve missed out, Britt.”
“Well, show me the ropes.”
First, he buys me a funnel cake, which we share. It’s delicious and I’m tempted to get another, but Trace has other ideas. Trace leads me to a booth where some kind of game is obviously played. He hands over some cash and deposits me into the seat, standing behind me with his hand on my shoulders.
“Aren’t you playing?” I ask, looking up at him.
“Nah, I’m going to help you win.”
I roll my eyes. “What am I supposed to do?” I ask as the other seats are filled.
Trace instructs me to put my hands on the triggers of these odd-looking guns. “Water is going to squirt out of this and you need to hit the bull’s-eye on the target. Keep your hands steady because it’ll cause that tube to fill with water. You have to be the first to make it fill up to win.”
“Am I supposed to want to win a lousy stuffed animal?” Humor is a good distraction. I can feel the heat from his body behind me. His thumbs rubbing back and forth on my shoulders. It makes me want to lean back and pull his arms around me.
Trace laughs. “Yes.” He doesn’t get time to say more because the guy on the other side of the counter gets everyone’s attention. He counts us down and soon, water is squirting out of the gun. It takes me a second to get my aim right. “Hold steady,” Trace instructs, but my hands are too shaky. He’s making me nervous with his closeness. “Ah, you were close,” he says as ringing goes off to announce a winner two seats down.
Next, he drags me to play ring toss. I’m no better at that. Trace decides I need another try. He stands behind me and helps. “You need that dog. Looks like Lily,” he explains as he aligns our bodies and guides my throw.
It settles around a bottle perfectly. “I guess this is the extent of your athletic abilities.”
His chest rumbles with laughter. “If you want to call this athletic, then yeah,” he answers, another ring landing around a bottle.
All we need is one more to win the stuffed animal. Third time is the charm. I point to the one that looks like Lily with a smile. Trace makes me play most of the games we come across and I can’t help but think about how much money he’s wasting to give me this “full experience.” Call it a side effect of growing up and not having my parents pay for everything anymore. It is fun, though, and we’re both able to relax.
“All right, time for some rides,” Trace declares.
We go on a few as the sky darkens, rides and vendors lighting the place up. I start becoming tired and hungry when he leads me to the Ferris Wheel.
“Last one,” he says as if he somehow knows I’m ready to leave. Which wouldn’t surprise me because he could always read me well. “Can’t come and not ride the Ferris Wheel.” We wait in line until it’s our turn, and he glances down at me. “Think you’d want to get some actual food after this?”
“Maybe.”
