The thought of holding his hand crosses my mind as our fingers brush. My eyes find his, and his are looking down at the spot where our hands are barely touching.
“Any ideas of what we should do after the haunted house?” he asks, moving his hand to grab more cotton candy.
“I’ve been craving a funnel cake since I walked in.” I shrug.
“Me too,” he agrees. “Is there anything better than fair food?”
“Oh, my god! I love y’all’s couple costumes,” a girlaround our age, dressed like a cowgirl, says, stopping me with her hand.
“I’m sorry?” I say, a little confused.
“You and your boyfriend,” she says, pointing to Tanner. “A mermaid and a sailor is such a cute idea!” she chimes. “Babe, we should have done something like them.” She looks toward the man dressed like a cowboy.
“Oh no…this…we’re…” I try to explain, but the cowgirl has already gone back to talking to another girl dressed like a witch.
“I guess we do kinda look like a couple,” Tanner laughs, giving me a little nudge. My stomach does a somersault. He takes another bite of cotton candy and offers me the bag.
“So, who told you I was going to be a mermaid?” I ask.
“What?”
“The girls knew what my costume was going to be. Which one of them told you?”
“They didn’t tell me.”
“So, you just happened to be a sailor all on your own?” I question, quirking one of my eyebrows upward.
“First of all, I’m not a sailor. I’m a seaman,” he explains. “And, second of all, did you ever consider that maybe we do make a great team, and us unknowingly matching tonight proves it.” He smirks.
“They really didn’t tell you?”
“Swear it!”
“I guess you’re right,” I surrender. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Go for it.”
“Why didn’t you pick the pirate ship ride after you won Goldie?”
“Because I know you’re scared of heights, and you said you wanted to do the bumper cars.”
I stop walking.
“Why do you keep doing nice things for me?”
“Because you mean a lot to me, and I like doing nice things for you.”
My stomach does a swoop, and my heart bangs against my chest. I stare at him, unsure how to respond.
“You can pick your jaw up off the floor,” he says. “I know you aren’t that surprised. You called me incredible earlier, and I kinda am. That’s why I’m forcing you to go into the haunted house with me.”
A giggle burst out of me. “Oh? Now you’re cocky!”
“Yes. So come on, scaredy cat; let’s do it so we can go get a funnel cake.”
“I really hate haunted houses,” I admit, looking ahead to see that we’ve been left behind, and our friends are nowhere to be found.
“They’re not that bad. Just a bunch of actors dressed up,” he assures me.
