Ayida
I rubbed Noles' ear between my fingers, slow circles the way he always liked, while his head leaned heavy against mine.
His other handheld a stick of cotton candy he was barely focused on.
he was mostly just tearing at it absentmindedly, stuffing pieces in his mouth while we swayed high above the city.
The state fair had opened this week, and he surprised me by taking me tonight.
The Ferris wheel rocked softly in the wind, metal creaking' every few seconds as we rose higher.
I could see the lights spread out across the fairgrounds glowing like fireflies caught in a dance.
There was laughter floating up from somewhere below, the smell of funnel cake and smoked turkey legs drifting through the air, children's shrieks mixing with trap music and carnival announcements.
My heart eased for the first time in weeks. The last month or so he'd been different.
More present.
More gentle.
Less angry.
Less distant.
Less haunted.
I didn't know what changed in him, but I didn't question it.
I was grateful. It was almost like everything had gone back to the same or at least the closest version of "same" we were gonna get after death brushed up against us and left fingerprints.
His shoulder pressed deeper against mine, and he let out a low hum, eyes closed, chewing cotton candy slow.
"Don't play with my ears like that," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep and liquor.
"You know that shit make my dick hard." I burst out laughing, leaning into him.
His voice carried that lazy, half-drunk honesty he only had when he felt safe.
That tone I used to hear every night before the world tried to steal him from me.
"You so stupid," I giggled, reaching over and grabbing a piece of his cotton candy.
I shoved it in my mouth before he could snatch his hand away.
He cracked a smile at that, a small one, but it still lit something warm in my chest. "You really just steal my shit like that?
" he asked, looking down at the stick like it betrayed him. "Mhm," I said, grabbing another piece.
He leaned over and nipped at my cheek , playful, teasing, biting just enough to make heat curl low in my stomach.
"Keep playin' in my face," he murmured, breath warm against my skin, "and we ain't gon' make it off this ride before I do somethin' to you.
" I gave him a smug lil smile and flicked my eyes up at him.
He grinned again, dimples deep, eyes squinting, shoulders loosening.
The Ferris wheel swayed, lights sweeping across his face, painting him gold, pink, blue.
His hand slid down to my thigh, thumb brushing the inside slow.
It was absentminded and instinctive. Like touchin' me was the same as breathin'.
My heart tripped. He opened his eyes finally, looking at me with that heavy-lidded stare that always made my spirit sink deeper into my bones.
"What?" I whispered, suddenly shy. "Nothin'," he said, voice soft.
"I just missed bein' like this with you.
" The world around us blurred , the screams, the lights, the music , everything muted, everything small, everything far away.
I swallowed, my throat tightening. "Me too.
" He kissed my temple. Slow. "Come on," he murmured, hand squeezing my thigh once more.
"When this ride stop, I'ma win you somethin'.
Somethin' big as hell. Somethin' you can't even carry. "
"You already tried," I laughed. "Nah, that nigga cheated," he said, eyes narrowing like he still had beef with the game booth man. "We runnin' it back."
"Let it go Noles," I muttered, shaking my head. Then the Ferris wheel lurched, beginning its descent. His hand stayed glued to my thigh.
_____
After riding a few more rides , him showin' out, cussin' at teenagers, and finally winnin' me a big brown teddy bear he refused to let me carry.
we walked back to the truck with sticky fingers and full stomachs.
we were sittin' in the parking lot with the windows rolled down, eatin' fried Oreos and funnel cakes out of greasy paper trays.
Someone in the distance was poppin' fireworks like they were celebrating somethin'.
The sky glittered here and there with sparks fading just as quick as they came.
My feet were propped up on the dashboard, powdered sugar all over my fingers.
He sat in the driver's seat, seat leaned back, one hand holdin' a funnel cake, the other holdin' a lit blunt out the window.
The smoke curled around his face, softening him, outlining his jawline in the glow of the passing fireworks.
For a moment, I forgot we had ever been anything but this, messy, sweet, simple.
Two kids in love instead of two souls draggin' trauma behind them like shadows.
"Damn, these Oreos hitting'," I mumbled with my mouth full. He smirked, eyes half-lidded as he watched me tear into another piece. "You greedy as hell."
"Mind you, you got my funnel cake over there with you," I said, snatching the tray out of his lap. "Move your hand."
He laughed deep from his chest, blowing smoke out the window. “ You was gon' share anyway."
"I wasn't," I said through a smile. He reached over and pinched my thigh, making me jump.
"Stop!" I squealed giggling We sat like that for a while , the kind of silence that wasn't silence at all.
Just comfort. His music played low, Bryson Tiller.
The air smelled like sugar, smoke, and the faint sweetness of roasted pecans drifting across the lot.
He looked peaceful. Relaxed. A little drunk. A little high. A lotta mine. "Tonight was nice," I said softly. His eyes flicked toward me. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I needed it." He rubbed at his jaw, staring out the windshield. "I did too," he said after a long pause.
I watched his profile. the curve of his nose, the fullness of his lips, the tension in his shoulders that seemed to finally loosen tonight. "You been different lately," I said gently. "In a good way." His jaw flexed once. "I know."
"You wanna talk about it?" He didn't answer at first. He put the blunt out in the ashtray, wiped his hands on his pants, then leaned back, head hitting the seat.
"Shit got loud in my head," he said finally.
"Too loud. Felt like I didn't have space to hear nothin' good.
" I stayed silent and Let him talk. "But these last couple weeks I don't know.
I been feelin' normal again. Or close to it.
" I swallowed. "What changed?" He shrugged.
"Me. You. Us. I don't know. Shit just feel better when I'm actually home wit' you instead of out runnin' after ghosts. " My breath caught a little at that.
"All that time I was gone? You ain't know how much I wanted this," he admitted.
"Just sittin' somewhere quiet wit' you. Bein' close.
Bein' normal." My chest warmed listening to him continue to talk.
This was the side of him that made me fall in love with him.
The vulnerable, honest, unexpectedly gentle version of him he hid from the rest of the world.
"Seein' how fucked up you was about it all it hit a lil different," he said, sighing as he pulled his phone from his pocket.
"Made me realize where my head shoulda been at. "
His screen lit up. Whatever he saw on it shifted his energy quick.
"We gotta go," he mumbled, ashing the blunt out the window and adjusting himself in the seat so he could pull off.
I didn't ask questions. I just sipped my strawberry lemonade and let the night carry us wherever it was meant to go.
Believe Me by Rod Wave blasted through the speakers as we drove away from the fair, the bass vibrating through my feet on the dash.
He tapped the steering wheel in rhythm, windows down, night air warm on our skin.
It was peaceful.
It was needed.
It was us.
After about twenty minutes, we pulled up in front of his parents' house, lights blazing, cars everywhere, the yard full as always.
I glanced over at him with a raised brow.
He chuckled like he already knew what I was thinking, putting the truck in park.
He stepped out, walked around, and opened my door like the gentleman he only remembered he was when he felt good.
He pulled me out by my hand, fingers entwined with mine as he led me toward the house.
The moment the door opened, sound hit me like a wave. Kids everywhere running, screaming, laughing, crying, arguing.
The TV in the den blasting cartoons. Someone's tablet playing YouTube Kids.
The smell of food floating from the kitchen.
Music coming from somewhere upstairs. It was pure St. Jean chaos.
We stepped into the dining area where Juste, Chiana, Nia, Jules, Amina, and Pierre sat around the table, cups in hand, snacks spread out, everybody loud.
"Here, Ayida we made you one," Nia said, sliding a cold glass my way.
I lifted it and sniffed. Margarita. I giggled and took a sip before sliding into the seat next to Noles. "Why we drinkin'?" I asked, still smiling. "Yo in-laws called this meeting," Amina said, sipping her own drink with attitude, making Chiana and Nia bust out laughing.