I spread my legs shoulder-width apart, bend my knees to harness the strength in my thighs, raise the hammer above my head for the perfect descent, then slam it down with all my might. The puck doesn’t just jump—it catapults all the way up the tower at an impressive speed, passing by each tick mark with no likelihoodof stopping before colliding into that shiny bell with a shrill ring that bellows my victory to the other fairground inhabitants.
Staten’s mouth hangs open.
“That’s what I’m talking about, Mulligan!” Harlan roars, nurturing the pride inside of me.
The game operator—who acts like he didn’t just witness monumental history—gestures indifferently to the wall of prizes behind him, and I point to the giant, retina-scorching, fuchsia-colored teddy bear that’s an insult to color palettes everywhere. I accept my well-earned winning with a cocksure grin, offering the stuffed animal to Staten, who still hasn’t rubbed the shock from her face.
“You don’t have to act so surprised,” I chuckle.
Staten’s throat clicks with a clumsy swallow, and she fires a glance at the eyesore that is her new furry friend, telegraphing the meaning behind my good show of athleticism. “You—the bell—it nearly cracked in half.”
I could live off her compliments forever. They’re like catnip to the domesticated beast inside of me that purrs whenever I get close to her.
I shrug. “You wanted it.”
It’s adorable that she still doesn’t realize the control she has over me. Staten Renault needs to come with a warning label, and I need to become more adept at heeding caution. The ear-to-ear beam overtaking her lips is more rewarding than breaking the carnival’s cheap game.
The bear dwarfs her when she nestles it into her arms. I know this will sound beyond Neanderthal, but there’s something gratifying about being able to provide for the person you care about. And if Staten wanted a prize from every game at this goddamn carnival, I’d spend the rest of the night making sure she got her wish.
Luckily, though, she caps her game quota at one, and we hitup a cart that specializes in fried desserts and cotton candy, toothsome to the rest of the group yet unwise for me given the insomniac nerves that have begun their nightly sweep of my body.
Where’s an exorcist when you need one? I’ve got a demon of self-mediocrity that hasn’t given me a break since I was six and lost my first youth hockey game.
I’ve never seen Staten so happy to get a cavity before. She orders the largest cotton candy off the menu, and I make sure to pay for it before she has the chance to fight me on it.
At last, a tornado of pink fluff is plopped into her hands as I accept partial custody of Mr. Cuddles and place him on my shoulders.
She tears off a radioactive-looking tuft and offers it to me. “Do you want some?”
My ribs are a steel trap around my barely beating heart. “I’m good, thanks. You enjoy it.”
“Suit yourself.”
Staten lays a piece of cotton candy on the flat of her tongue, letting the sugar follicles dissolve like breath on frosted glass. A little bit of pink-tinted drool sluices down her chin, a moan shaking loose from her perfect, pouty lips—a moan that brings me to a fever-pitch I can’t abate.
Her tongue peeks out to dart at the mess she’s made, gliding over flawless skin in a purely languishing stroke. I can’t take my eyes off her, which won’t fare well for the way my cock is starting to pitch a four-person tent in my pants.
She’s just eating, Knox. Don’t be so perverted. Oh my God, have I been staring at her this whole time? She probably thinks I’m a creep because…because I am!
Staten begins to suck her fingers clean, unaware of the hell that she’s currently putting me through, her eyes closed in utter satisfaction—a goddess indulging in the finest ambrosia,lounging over an ottoman in the cloud-studded heart of Olympus.
My stomach flip-flops, my brain is fried, and anyone in the immediate vicinity can tell that I’ve been bewitched by my tutor-turned-fake-girlfriend. It’s taking everything inside me not to push her up against a wall and lick the sugar straight off her mouth.
“You know, for someone who I spend most of my time with, I don’t know that much about your family,” she comments with her mouth half full.
I blink out of my trance, trying to adjust the crotch of my jeans as discreetly as possible. Thankfully, Staten is too busy staring diabetic death in the face to pay much notice to our uninvited guest.
I look around to find that the majority of our squad has been beckoned by a churro stand a few ways down the road. My home life isn’t really a group discussion, if you know what I mean.
Nerves weld my throat shut. “What’s there to know? My dad is a dick.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“I have a sister, Livia, but we aren’t that close. At least, not anymore,” I tell her, a distant sadness pulling at my voice.
A frown tarnishes Staten’s face, and she backpedals. “I’m sorry, Knox.”
“It’s okay. She’s just living her life, and she’s always busy, you know? I don’t expect her to make time for me.”
