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“No, seriously,” Erica says.
Ann Marie chimes in. “Don’t you see the stares you’re getting?”
Frowning, I glance around, but I don’t see anyone looking at us. “No one’s staring.”
“Maybe not now,” Ann Marie explains. “But as you two were walking this way, every woman you passed was staring at Coen in open lust and at you with open jealousy.”
“Really?” I don’t see why. We’re clearly not on a date. We don’t touch each other. We’re not affectionate. I mean, sure… we’re walking side by side and talking and laughing, and that one time he steadied me coming off the Zipper.
But surely, anyone who looks at me and looks at Coen, side by side, can see we’re not dating. We’re way too mismatched.
Except in bed, I muse.
We reach the entrance, and Hank and Xander push past me to pair up with their dates. Xander reaches down and threads his fingers through Ann Marie’s, and my heart sighs in satisfaction for her. Hank puts his arm around Erica’s waist and whispers something to her. She laughs and bumps her hip against his. Ten bucks says it was dirty.
And Coen and I just stand beside each other, not touching, as he hands the carny our tickets.
We enter the building, the first panel of reflective pieces making both Coen and I look like round balls with tiny heads. We bust out laughing, and before I know it, he’s taking my hand and pulling me to a hallway that leads to the right. I’m not sure where my friends went, but I follow along behind Coen as we enter a maze of mirrors.
His hand engulfs mine, leaving no room for me to pull away. We check ourselves out in the mirrors, our bodies contorted into weird shapes. Most are funny; some are downright scary.
But it’s just me and Coen, and he has no fear in laughing at himself or me.
In one room, he moves behind me with his hands on my hips. Our necks elongate in the reflection, and when he tips his head to kiss the side of my neck, his neck curves like it’s made of rubber. I laugh so hard I can’t stop. Coen turns me in his arms, presses his mouth to mine, and suddenly I’m not laughing anymore.
“There you are,” Ann Marie says from behind us.
I start to jerk back, but Coen’s not so quick in releasing me. His mouth lingers a little longer, a testament to the fact this man loves to kiss. It’s by far the sexiest thing about him. He loves the act of mating with lips and tongue and teeth.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ann Marie says, grabbing my arm. “The fireworks are going to start soon, and we want to get on the Ferris wheel to see them.”
Coen’s hand presses into my lower back as we exit the building but then falls away when we’re outside once again.
We head to the Ferris wheel and get in line, keeping an eye on the time. It’s tradition to try to be at the top when the fireworks start. If the carny is fun, he’ll stop the ride for a few minutes so we can watch from a spot that’s a little closer to the pyrotechnic brilliance.
The first boom goes off just as we reach the front of the line. They usually last around twenty minutes, so we’ll at least get to see some of them from the big wheel.
When it’s finally our turn to step into one of the passenger cars, Coen slides money into the operator’s hand. He doesn’t recognize Coen, but he does recognize green paper.
“Hundred bucks and you give us a few extra minutes at the top,” Coen says.
I hear Hank behind us whisper to Erica, “Damn… that’s slick.”
Looking over my shoulder at my girlfriends, they both give me a look that says,You’d better make good use of that extra time.
Settling into the seat next to Coen, I don’t ask for an invitation. Before the bar comes down over our laps, I scoot in close to him. To my surprise, his arm lifts and wraps around my shoulders.
It shouldn’t feel this good, snuggling affectionately next to him. And when his thumb rubs against my shoulder, I should absolutely banish any silly thoughts that maybe we could be more.
The Ferris wheel starts to turn, and our cart rises and then stops to let the next couple on. Looking over my shoulder and downward, I see Hank and Erica boarding. We rise again and stop, rise and stop, until the wheel is full. When we’re back near the bottom, the operator gives Coen a nod, and we’reoff. The wheel makes two full rotations, the entire time Coen and I watching the fireworks in short bursts of three to four explosions. It’s not a very good show, and the display isn’t in sync with the classic rock blaring from the speakers, but it’s beautiful all the same.
Halfway through the third rotation, the wheel slows and then comes to a grinding halt at the top, our bucket rocking slightly.
Silently, we watch the fireworks. I half expect Coen to make a move, at least a kiss. And I need him to make the move because in this romantic setting, I’m afraid to. I’m the one who set the boundaries and the expiration date, thus I really can’t make this more than that.
And let’s face it. I only set those boundaries because I knew that’s what Coen wanted. He’s not looking for a relationship. Quite the contrary, he wants to be left alone for the most part. Since that’s the case, I’m not about to show interest in making this more than what we’ve agreed, so I watch the bursts of red, green, blue, and white light up the night sky.
“I wish I could stay up here forever,” Coen says, and it startles me. I lean away from him so I can see his face. The reflection of fireworks sparkles in his eyes. Slowly, his head turns toward me. “Away from the world. Untouchable.”
