Chapter 15
Miss Piggy
Wyatt
“Are you taking me to the state fair in a suit?” I asked in disbelief as Google Maps directed me into the massive parking lot for the California State Fair.
I really hoped the Chevy would be safe in the parking lot.
My general philosophy was that Class E Motors should be used every day.
But if I’d known I was going to have to leave the Cadillac in the massive fair parking lot, I might have selected a different vehicle.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to the fair; it had been at least ten years. What I did remember with clarity was that most of the crowd dressed casually—as in bootie-shorts-and-tank-top casual, overalls-and-sports-bra casual, basketball-shorts-and-muscle-tank casual.
“I am,” Caroline practically sang. “Normally, I wouldn’t have someone wear a suit to the fair. In general, it’s best to dress for an event. When a legislator is going to a rodeo, I don’t have him wear a suit.”
“Then why am I wearing a suit right now?”
“Because you need some good memories. Tonight, we are going to have so much fun.” She smiled at me, and I almost believed her. “Also, it’s fun every once in a while to go somewhere overdressed. I get a rush out of being the best-dressed person. And tonight, you are dressed even fancier than I am.”
The night was warm, and my inclination was to roll up my sleeves and leave the uncomfortable jacket in the back seat. “That will certainly be a first for me,” I said. “I’ve never been best-dressed anywhere.”
“C’mon, Wyatt, don’t sell yourself short.” Caroline handed me the jacket with the look of a strict schoolmarm. “I’ve certainly made improvements to your overall look. But we both know you never lacked style.”
Coming from Caroline, that was a huge compliment. I shrugged on the jacket.
“Thanks. I guess.”
She looked me up and down and nodded with approval. She was not exaggerating. She really couldn’t take her eyes off me. It was unnerving how much she stared. But I wasn’t complaining. If I’d known this was what it took to get Caroline’s attention, I would have bought a whole closet full of suits.
“Let’s go, Knox.” She took long strides in her red heels. “I want to eat a smoked turkey leg.”
As we stood in line for the turkey legs, Caroline explained the game plan. “Here’s how we do it. Between each activity, we try a different fair food. I always start with a turkey leg. Do you want to share?”
“Only if you promise that there will be more food.”
“Wyatt Knox, you have no idea how much delicious and bad-for-you food we’re going to consume tonight.” She said with mock reverence. “We are going to eat our way through the state of California. Are you ready?”
“This isn’t your first rodeo, is it?”
“My dad took us every year. Typical divorced dad buying his kids’ love.”
“Did it work?”
“You’d better believe it. I always came home with a giant stuffed animal and a tummy ache. It was the ABSOLUTE best.” Her face lit up, and I could see the excited little girl in her. For the first time in my life, I felt the urge to win an oversized stuffed animal.
After spending a small fortune on a smoked turkey leg and an ear of roasted corn, we hurried to the piglet race. People stared at us as we looked for our seats in the makeshift aluminum stadium. Caroline’s heels clicked on the metal risers. We settled on a spot three rows back from the finish line.
“I think that lady just snapped our picture,” I said under my breath.
“Of course she did. Because you’re a suit-wearing hottie. Now, which piglet are you going to bet on?” The names of the different pigs were on the scoreboard.
“I’m definitely rooting for Bacon Bits,” I answered.
“Solid choice. I’m choosing Miss Piggy. You know, Girl Power.”
“Bacon Bits might be a girl; you never know. What are we betting?”
“Hmm, this should be good. If Miss Piggy wins? I get to pick the next activity. And if Bacon Bits wins, you can take off your suit coat.”
“I’m not sure that’s a fair bet.”
“C’mon, Wyatt,” she said with the goofiest grin.
“Everyone knows nothing’s fair in life except the state fair.
” She guffawed at her own joke before she took a big bite of the turkey leg and passed it to me.
Swapping a turkey leg and corn on the cob with Caroline had to be the best meal of my life.
A pre-teen girl in cowboy boots and a red sequined cowboy hat paced in front of the arena selling plastic pig noses.
Caroline tugged on my elbow. “Wyatt! We need pig noses!”
I handed her the turkey leg I’d been happily gnawing on. I stood up to wave down the girl selling the costume noses. I bought two and immediately put the plastic pig nose on my face. A thin elastic string held it in place. When I turned to Caroline, she busted up laughing.
“A pig in a suit! Classic!”
I handed her a pig nose. In exchange, she gave me our mostly eaten dinner while she slipped the soft plastic nose on her face.
“How do I look?” She fluffed out her blonde hair, which she was wearing down for once.
Caroline Bingham, in a pretty sun dress, wearing a pig nose and pearls stole my heart.
“You’re cute in a pig nose.”
“What can I say! I look good in everything!” She preened. “By the way, you look ridiculous.”
“No longer the hottie in a suit?” I asked.
“I didn’t say that.” She patted the bench beside her. “Sit down. The race is about to start.”
That was right. We were there to watch piglets run in circles, but all I could focus on was Caroline laughing and snorting and cheering in her pig nose. Caroline screaming, “Go, Miss Piggy! Go! GO!” She stood up and screamed for that piglet with all her heart.
Miss Piggy lost. So did Bacon Bits. But he came in one pig ahead of Miss Piggy.
Caroline sat back down, defeated. “I can’t believe she lost,” she said dramatically. When she returned to her seat, she ended up sitting closer to me. So close in fact that our sides touched; I didn’t scoot away.
“Bacon Bits lost, too—I’ll keep my jacket on.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said a bit woefully.
“It’s no big deal. I couldn’t take it off right now anyway. My hands are kind of full with our dinner.”
“Pass me the turkey leg.” She pushed her pig nose so it rested on her forehead like a stubby unicorn horn and bit into the leg.
We finished dinner as the crowd left the mini arena. As the sun descended, the clear blue sky turned into a golden dome. I threw out the turkey bone and cornless cob. Caroline met me by the trash can, handing me a wet wipe.
“Thank you! I needed this,” I said as I wiped my hands and mouth. “Do you always carry wet wipes with you?”
“Among other things,” she said, pulling a tube of lipstick out of her handbag. She expertly reapplied her lip color. I went to remove my pig nose, which hung around my neck.
“No! Wait!” She placed a hand on my arm. “We need a pig selfie.” I nodded and put the nose back on.
We took our selfie cheek to cheek by the Lil’ Pig Racing sign outside the arena. Caroline stood so close I could smell her skin. She was still dating perfect Ed Frechette, I reminded myself. I couldn’t kiss her tonight. But I wanted to.
“Next up?” she asked, beaming. She was still wearing the pig nose, and I had no plans to remind her.
“You’re the state fair expert. I’ve only been a couple times.”
“Okay! Are you hungry?”
“Always! But I’ll be fine for a bit.”
“Great, let’s go see the farm animals. They often close that exhibit early. And after that, I’ll find you some funnel cake.”
“Lead the way.”
We admired bunnies, cows, lambs, and pigs, then stopped at a table housing dozens of fuzzy yellow chicks.
“You should get chickens,” Caroline said as we waited for our funnel cake. “You have all that space. And you like eggs so much.”
“You seem really attached to the idea of me raising chickens,” I said as I pulled off a piece of funnel cake, careful not to get powdered sugar on my suit.
“I always wanted chickens, and we couldn’t have them at the town house.”
“Tell you what, Caroline. If I get chickens, I’ll let you name them.”
“Are you serious?” She jumped up and down in excitement. Caroline was so different tonight. So open and happy, she acted a little bit like she was drunk. But I knew she wasn’t. She took a long sip from her Diet Coke as we stood at the high table and devoured the funnel cake.
“I didn’t say I’d get chickens,” I clarified after swallowing an oily, sweet bite of fried dough. “Only that if I ever did, I’d let you name them.”
“But you’re considering it. I can tell.” And she was right. If we ever started dating, real dating, not this limbo-feels-like-a-date-but-she’s-still-with-Ed situation, I planned to build her a chicken coop.
“You have powdered sugar on your manly scruff.” Her hand reached up to my cheek. Instinctively, I lowered my face to her fingers. I closed my eyes as she brushed the sugar off. If I were Ed, I wouldn’t want my girlfriend touching some other guy like this. I stood back and took a swig of my drink.
“So, what’s next?” I asked.
“Well, since you’ve been a darling. I thought we could go look at the classic cars.”
“There are classic cars here?”
“I thought you’d been to the fair before.”
“Like twice in middle school with some friends.” I actually came with Greg once, but I was wise enough not to tell Caroline that.
“And you didn’t check out the classic cars? What did you look at?”
“Hot girls.”
“Of course,” she said, sounding mildly disgusted.
“Hey, I was fourteen!”
We went to see the cars. It was a small collection compared to all the classic auto shows I had been to over the years with my dad. But I enjoyed wowing Caroline with my very specific party trick of knowing the make, model, and year of nearly every vehicle.
We rode the roller coaster on the midway and the Ferris wheel. As we went up, the sky shifted from sunset to dusk. Suddenly, all the lights burned brighter. When we reached the top, the Ferris wheel stopped. Sitting across from me, Caroline shivered.
“You cold?” I asked.
“A little.” She wrapped her arms tight around her chest.
“You could wear my suit coat.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
I took off the ill-fitting jacket, laughing. “You should have asked.”
“Ah! But there’s something so chivalrous about having it offered.” She shrugged it on. She drowned in the jacket. My jacket. “But now that you’re becoming a man who occasionally wears a suit—”
“Occasionally,” I stressed.
“—you should know that when you’re on a date, it’s bonus points if the guy notices you’re cold and offers you his jacket. Girls like that. Or at least this girl does,” she said, snuggling into my jacket.
“Now let me roll up your sleeves.” She moved over to the seat next to me and deftly rolled up my cuffs.
Once again, Caroline was all business, giving no sign that she was aware of what her nearness was doing to me.
Soft, light fingers rolled up the fabric, brushing against my arm.
She leaned in so near that with one turn of her head, we’d be close enough to kiss.
When you’re on a date. Her words ran through my head. But we weren’t on a date, were we? This was just “Operation Suit.” I couldn’t do this much longer.