“A festival?” she asked as she looked at the sign on Parkville’s banner across main street.
“Founder’s Day.” I confirmed as I pulled into the little parking lot. The strung lights framed the idyllic small town setting. It was a little town, even smaller than Laurel, but the charm of it had me every time.
“And you want to do this?” she asked.
I nodded. “I want to do this.”
“It doesn’t seem like your style.” She said. I knew Rose didn’t mean it as an insult, but it couldn’t be anything but.
“You seem to have a lot of assumptions about me.” Seemed like she’d already decided I was no good.
“Have you really changed that much?” she asked, a coy smile looking up at me.
I dodged the question. I didn’t want to answer it. I didn’t want to think about it. I just wanted to look into her eyes and see her. The whole world wasn’t out to get me. She was.
And I was trying to figure out a way to make her see me for what I was. For who I was.
“Let’s go,” I said as I grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the festival. It was an excuse, really. A chance to grab her by the hand and touch her. A chance for the feel of my skin against hers to give her that little shock of electricity. That reminder that we worked together. Hell, that we were pretty darn good together.
In her eyes I was just a bad boy, a player. Someone who turn and ran as soon as things got hard, and hell, she was right. At least for the most part. But Rose was the one girl I didn’t want to run from. She was all kinds of crazy complicated, but when she was there I knew that I wanted her near me.
We were forced together, opposite charges that couldn’t tear each other away.
I had to prove to her that I was worth it. That I wasn’t just some bad decision that she’d made. Not just once, but twice.
I had to show her that I wasn’t just that guilty walk of shame after a night of partying. That I was more.
That I could be more.
I was so caught up in thinking about how I was going to impress her that I didn’t see the car coming, I didn’t see the giant puddle we were approaching, and I didn’t expect it to splash up into her face.
And above all I probably should not have laughed after it happened.
“Are you okay?” I asked as I wiped the mud off her face. It was all over her coat, her shirt, and up onto her cheek.
She just glared at me, frozen in anger. Damn, this wasn’t going very well.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, you can wear the plaid shirt I have in the car, it’ll go well with those jeans.” At least they were unscathed.
A slow smile spread across her face and she laughed, then she reached up and wiped the mud off her cheek and smeared it right on to my face.
“You are such a jerk,” she said. but in a way that was more endearing than anything. I wanted to capture this moment. Build on it.
I was. I could be a grade A asshole, but she didn’t mean it. Not right now. So I scooped her up and pulled her into me as we tickled and wrestled right there in the middle of the sidewalk. We were all tangled up when we paused. I looked into her eyes and watched her excitement turn into awkwardness.
“Do you want that shirt?” I asked as I looked down at her, setting her down onto the sidewalk.
“Yeah, that would be nice,” She said. I could almost hear her reminding herself that this was just a contractual obligation.
That it didn’t mean anything.
But for just a moment, it did. I’d gotten her attention. I ran back to the truck and grabbed my shirt. I wouldn’t forget that smile, or that look in her eyes. She was fighting her feelings.
“Here you go,” I said as I walked back to her. She’d already stripped down to just a tank top as she pulled on my shirt, wrapping herself up in it. She tied it up at the front. Now she looked like she belonged in Montana.
“What’s next?” she asked as she bit her lip.
“I’m thinking funnel fries,” I admitted as I pulled her towards a booth.
Maybe if I sweetened her up a little she’d sweeten up to me.
I wrapped his shirt around me and tried not to let the sent of it make me blush. It smelled like him, and it was all over me.
Part of me wished it was him.
Stop it, I chided myself. This was exactly what I didn’t want to happen. Exactly what I was trying to avoid. He was working his magic on me, and I wasn’t immune to it.
No matter how much I told myself I didn’t want anything to do with him, he weaseled his way into my thoughts and set up shop there. Next thing I knew I’d have to evict him just to have space in my own mind.
The smell of funnel cake pulled me out of my imaginary argument. The one where I tried desperately to convince myself I didn’t want to feel more than just his shirt around my body.