“What do I tell Leif? I don’t want to hurt his feelings. He’s going to think I’m a total bitch for switching up on him.”
“Considering he’s been a total dick to you these past few weeks, I think you get a pass.”
“I don’t want to lose either of them,” I whisper beneath my breath, yet the words sound louder than the explosion of a nuclear reactor.
With a sigh, Hassie rises to a stance, enveloping me in a hug that I didn’t know I needed. Her arms tighten around me just enough to steady me.
“And if they both really care about you, you won’t. They’d want you to be happy,” she says.
Happiness is something that has always come second for me. My accomplishments have, without fail, been more important, and I have nobody to blame but myself for setting such high expectations.
But here, as I stand in my bedroom, choking back tears, I’m not as fireproof as I once thought I was. I want to know Knox like the back of my hand, I want to taste the sin on his tongue, I want to proudly display the mark of damnation he’s bitten into soft, feeble skin. I want to be his, and I want the whole world to know it.
I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to realize how good I have it. Hell, Knox paid for my hospital bill. (I mean, he kind of should have, but still.) He kept trying to make amends even though I did everything in my power to push him away. He put my desires before his own because he knew how much Leif meant to me.
I always thought that having a selfish heart was one of the worst things you could do on this planet. Little did I know that trading contentment for contempt is an equally punishable crime.
I pull back from Hassie, a serpent winding around my neck and augmenting my pulse. “What am I supposed to say to Knox? Where do I even start?”
She purses her lips in thought. “The carnival is coming to town in a few days. Why don’t we make it a group thing?”
Ah, yes. Maple Grove’s very own Spring Fling Carnivalshows up for one week in April, decked out in confectionaries sweet enough to give you a toothache, jumbo-sized stuffed animals that’ll have you playing the same rigged game over and over again, and a plethora of rides that are so poorly built they probably violate some kind of safety code. The whole town shows up for the festivities.
I wasn’t planning on going, but this could be the perfect opportunity to get closer to Knox. Plus, maybe there is something romantic about being shoved into a rickety, semi-private gondola.
“Do you think Knox will say yes?”
My best friend’s self-assured smile sharpens. “Staten, I’m pretty sure that man would say yes to watching paint dry just to spend time with you.”
19
SCREW THE FUNNEL CAKE
KNOX
Getting a text from Staten with an invitation to the Spring Fling Carnival was a reality I never foresaw. Needless to say, I was a littletooexcited to spend time with her, and I gave her my answer almost immediately.
Since Staten’s friend is tagging along, she said it would be alright for some of my friends to join too, and I’m determined to deploy my precious teammates as social facilitators so I can get some much-wanted alone time with her.
I’m not a big carnival guy—the greasy food, the hazardous rides, the overbearing lights. It’s a cesspool for overstimulation, but I’d do anything for Staten, even if that means enduring a night surrounded by way too many people and game operators intent on pilfering the last of my unfrozen savings.
Once we make it to the annual haunt, I take in the bough of trees secluding us from the rest of the world—no convoy of cars belching exhaust or industrialized buildings pumping a ring of pollution into the navy-bellied sky. Within a week, this whole carnival will disappear like it never existed in the first place.
Astigmatic bulbs lining the funhouse’s roof flash on a sporadic timer, while the scent of fried goods perpetually stainsthe ozone layer, and a midway of various carnival games speckle the enclosure, attracting all sorts of customers with their overflowing cache of prizes and grandiose signage. Bright colors bifurcate the dreary surroundings as vendors stake their territory and advertise their most calorie-dense creations.
A few rides are interchanged throughout the years, and my gaze sweeps the expanse in front of me, packed to the brim with the likes of a questionably stable Ferris wheel, a poor man’s re-creation of a drop tower, a track for bumper cars that may require its adrenaline junkies to sign a waiver, and a miniature roller coaster that looks like some old-timey death contraption from the 1900s.
The outsoles of my shoes flatten clumps of grass as I purposefully clip my strides to keep in line with Staten’s short legs. The rest of the group—Crew, Merit, Harlan, Irelyn, and Staten’s friend, Hassie, all bound ahead, talking over one another andoohingat the garish couture of it all. Vibrant streamers, balloons, kids with half-rushed face paint, a collective exuberance that has me swallowing down my own reservations.
If I’m being honest, the nerves are getting to me. In theory, this hangout was the perfect catalyst to grow closer to the one girl I can’t stop thinking about, but now that I’m here, my thoughts have woven themselves into a giant rat king. What if I say the wrong thing tonight? What if I somehow mess this all up?
Even though the ground beneath me is steady, it feels like I’m traversing a suspension bridge that’s on the verge of collapse.
I definitely freaked Staten out the last time we talked. I mean, I came on so strong. Maybe I played it off well enough to blame it on our arrangement, but she’s a smart girl, and I’m beginning to think that she’s the only one who can see right through me.
We’ve only exchanged a few words so far—nothing of substance. The way I looked into her eyes is still fresh in my memory despite happening a week ago, taunting that parched mouth of mine like juicy, low-hanging fruit.
For once in Staten’s life, I got her to stand still. And in that brief interval of time, I didn’t want to give her another opportunity to run. She’s elusive. She doesn’t want to acknowledge that there may be something between us because it would derail her something-year plan to pursue Mr. Look-at-Me-I’m-So-Hot-My-Face-Is-on-the-Side-of-Every-School-Bus-You-See.
