She lifted her eyes, feeling a bit anxious, then looked back at him. Swift had, in a matter of weeks, put his life on hold to honor his uncle's request, then he'd taken the lead in caring for Chevy. Star realized she missed her puppy… a lot.
"I think I can do it with you, but don't tease me if I keep my eyes closed the entire time."
Swift could never tease Starlah. She stood strong, even when she walked around, feeling defeated and hopeless when she came out, her eyes dancing around when she didn't see the two people she was so used to seeing walk around in the home they all once shared.
"Welcome to Quiet Waters Annual Carnival! Will you be buying the unlimited pass with your entry tickets?"
"Unlimited?" Starlah muttered. "How long do we plan to be here?"
"That depends on how much fun we have. Don't worry. Moms and Logan will look after Chevy and Papa. I think I even heard Chevy whining along with Papa when we pulled off." He then looked at the worker. "Two unlimited passes, please and thank you."
They entered and were immediately stopped by a worker with a huge camera.
"Beautiful couple. I can tell you're in love."
He pulled Starlah lightly by her wrist and placed them both in front of the Quiet Waters backdrop. It had a lake resting in front of a large mountain with the sun setting, the orange and red rays beaming through the cracks.
"Oh, we're not?—"
"Glad you stopped us," Swift interrupted her. "Take two. One for me, and one for her."
"Swift," Star whispered when he stood behind her and slid his arms around her waist.
His chin rested on her shoulder, his nose inhaling the scent of her hair. It had a unique smell. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he smelled it each time she washed her hair.
"Huge smile!" The cameraman flashed it twice, then approached them. "Turn this way."
He had Starlah face Swift, then had him lean down just a little.
"I love it. Look at each other and don't move. On the count of three, smile."
As he counted down, Swift slowly licked his lower lip and winked, her eyes narrowing because they were supposed to smile.
"That was actually better than I thought." He whipped a ticket out of his pocket, then wrote a number on the back. "Make sure you present this on your way out near the picture van." He patted Starlah on the arm. "Love your hair. Gorgeous."
"Uh, thank you."
Star wasn't that much of a fan of it. It was thick and coiled and would turn bleach-blonde if she used products that naturally dyed her hair. Then, if she straightened it, as soon as she began to sweat, it would morph into its naturally coiled state.
"Man, that shit's beautiful." Swift tugged on one of her tendrils. "Women would pay for this. Stop playing, Star."
"I'm not. It's just a lot of work."
"You know what else is a lot of work?" He pointed to the booth where they had to toss a horseshoe around the necks of glass bottles. "That. Are you game?"
"Oh, hell yeah."
Star was naturally competitive, and since most girls would rather stand around and watch while their boyfriends spent almost half of their money to win a prize, she skipped to show him what she was working with.
"Pfft. Please. Watch what I do."
"Alright, everyone, step right on up! You'll have exactly one minute to toss these horseshoes around the neck of the bottle. Whoever gets the most wins a prize of their choice! Are you ready?"
Swift looked at Starlah, his hand positioned near the horseshoes placed in front of him. Star did as well, but she was looking straight ahead. She didn't need a distraction, and Swift,especially when running and coming in with sweat pouring off his body, was naturally a distraction.
"Let's go!"
With a flick of his wrist and with great execution, Swift tossed the horseshoes, one by one. A few landed, but just as many, if not more, hit the neck and then fell to the ground. Starlah, though, knew exactly how to make them land. Instead of a flick, she did a slight toss just high enough before it descended the neck of the bottle. When the bell rang, they all stopped, the crowd cheering as the worker walked by and counted each player's horseshoes.
