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Alexander eyed me, a teasing grin on his face. “Think you can handle it?”
I shot him a confident look. “Please. I was the ring toss champion of ‘92.”
“You would’ve been seven years old in 1992,” he retorted, clearly enjoying our banter.
“Your point?” I asked loftily as I picked up the rings.
Aiming, I tossed the first ring, focusing intensely. It sailed past the bottles, missing entirely.
Alexander chuckled. “Quite an arm you’ve got there, champ.”
I made a face at him. “I’m just warming up!”
My successive two tosses met similar fates, bouncing off the back wall and having failed to land on a bottle.
Alexander was grinning broadly now. “That 1992 title may need an asterisk.”
I smacked his arm playfully. “It’s this strong ocean breeze. Throwing me off.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, eyebrow raised.
I made a few more unsuccessful attempts, my competitive streak in full force. With each miss, Alexander’s teasing remarks grew more outrageous.
Finally, after one horrible throw, I turned on him. “Oh, you think you can do better?” I challenged.
Alexander held up his hands in mock surrender. “Perish the thought. I know better than to get between Etta Harwood and her ring toss destiny.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help laughing. No matter how silly I looked, Alexander always knew how to make me feel at ease.
Linking my arm through his again, I said, “Come on, I’ll let you make it up to me with some funnel cake.”
We ambled off in search of sugary fried goodness, the sound of our laughter mingling with the bustle of the lively Spring Festival.
***
I licked the last bit of powdered sugar off my fingers as we strolled away from the funnel cake stand, my stomach happily full. Alexander was finishing up his own fried confection, looking just as content.
We were so focused on devouring our treats that we both jumped a little when Lucia seemed to appear out of nowhere.
“There you two are!” she said warmly. “Enjoying the festival foods, I see.”
I smiled at Lucia, quickly swallowing my mouthful of funnel cake. “We sure are! I’d forgotten how amazing the food is here.”
“Well, don’t eat too much,” Lucia advised. “You’ll be dancing around the maypole next.”
I groaned internally. The maypole dance was a quirky tradition at the Spring Festival, with people holding ribbons and weaving in and out around a tall pole decorated with flowers.
“Oh, I’m not sure...” I hedged. “I haven’t done that since I was a kid.”
“Nonsense, it’s still great fun,” Lucia pressed. “Besides, you count as a newcomer again now, so you have to dance at least once. It’s good luck!”
I shot a helpless look at Alexander, who was trying not to grin.
“She’s right, you know,” he said, eyes twinkling. “It is tradition.”
I sighed, knowing I was outnumbered. “Okay, fine. But I can’t promise I’ll be any good at it.”
“It’s not about skill; it’s about taking part,” Lucia said happily, linking her arm through mine and steering me towards the maypole.
