“Mercury…are you sure? You really want to stop hiding?”
“I do,” he said firmly. “I’m tired of pretending. I just want to be with you and be happy without worrying what anyone else thinks. I want to win that Homecoming game for you and then walk into that dance with you on my arm.”
Damn it, I wanted to kiss him so fucking bad. But I knew we weren’t quite ready for that level of PDA yet. Baby steps.
“I say yes,” I said excitedly. “Let’s do it. I cannot fucking wait to show them all that you’re mine. That I’m the luckiest asshole in the whole universe to get to love you. But let’s meet at Neverland first and then after the dance, I want to take you back there, lay you down, and make love to you all night long.”
Dawson huffed and flushed with embarrassment like he usually did when I got mushy as fuck, but there was no hidingthe joy in his eyes. We’d looped the ferris wheel while we talked and I was surprised when we came to a halt back at the top.
“It feels like we’re on top of the world,” he murmured.
“I always feel that way when I’m with you,” I confessed softly. This time around, I thought the view was a lot more beautiful than before.
When Dawson saidhe wanted to take me on a date, I should have seen this coming. That night at the carnival was a turning point for us, when we’d decided to be brave together and stop hiding. It was one of the happiest moments we’d shared as a couple. I only wish I’d known that would be the last date we’d have before it all disappeared.
The fairgrounds were buzzing with people, a cacophony of lights and sounds that were as exhilarating as they were overstimulating. Dawson bought our tickets and then took my hand, weaving us through the crowd like a man on a mission. I stumbled a bit as something dawned on me and Dawson glanced at me over his shoulder, frowning.
“You alright?”
“It just hit me that the last time we were here, we couldn’t hold hands like this.”
His face lit with understanding and he yanked me to him. My eyes widened when he slipped an arm around my waist, pulling me close.
“We can do a bit more than that,” he purred before taking my lips in a soft, lingering kiss that I felt in my bones. When he released me, I felt dizzy and warm all over.
“Why Dawson Hayes, are you trying to seduce me?”
“Depends. Is it working?”
“I could show you just how much, but then I’d get arrested for public indecency,” I muttered, subtly adjusting myself. Dawson’s heated gaze flickered down to the slight bulge in my jeans, sending another rush of blood south.
“Maybe we’ll save that for our next date. Come on, I know the first stop I want to make.”
He led me towards the snack stands, and the smell of funnel cakes and turkey legs made my stomach grumble loudly. Dawson made me wait while he went through the line and when he came back, I barked out a laugh.
“I thought you said cotton candy was carcinogenic insulation on a stick?”
“Eh, YOLO,” he shrugged, handing me one of the blue and pink swirled confections. “I figured I oughta see what the big deal is with this stuff since you’re obsessed with it.”
“That’s a gross exaggeration,” I scoffed. I grabbed a mouthful of the cotton candy and the second it melted on my tongue, I let out a moan that was downright indecent. Dawson glared at me, unamused.
“Would you two like to be alone?” He rolled his eyes and tentatively bit into his treat. His face contorted as if he’d tasted battery acid. “Nope. That was a mistake. Failed experiment.”
“Amateur.”
I swiped his candy and devoured it as we worked our way around the carnival games. Dawson wasn’t nearly as hand-eye coordinated as I suspected he’d be, and I immensely enjoyed his growing pout each time I beat him. For the health of our relationship, I decided the rides were a safer alternative. And I couldn’t complain when Dawson’s hand never left mine during every twister, flipper, sizzler, or whatever ride we were on.
After the tenth ride, our bruises had bruises and we were aching in places no twenty-one-year-olds should be.
“Christ on a cracker, I don’t remember those being so…violent when we were younger,” I groaned, rubbing at my sore arm as we disembarked the bumper cars.
“If my coach knew I was this beat up by some fold-up carnival rides, he’d double my conditioning sessions every week. On the bright side, the ferris wheel shouldn’t seem so bad anymore in comparison.”
“I beg to differ. I’d argue the emotional trauma of that wheel far outweighs any physical damage I have now.”
“Don’t be such a baby, baby,” he snickered, earning himself my middle finger.
I followed him towards the lit up ferris wheel that I noticed with a sinking feeling was bigger than the one we’d ridden years ago.
