28. Midway
28
Midway
Victor had no problem holding my hand, going up to the food stall vendors, and saying things like, “One for my zombie wife, please.”
I laughed and knocked into his arm. This was ridiculous. And undoubtedly the best date I’d ever been on.
Even when he bit into a tamale and it oozed out its corn husk and onto a paper plate, I found the way he froze and glanced my way fucking adorable.
“Nice.” I grinned–and he did too, his cheeks full of food.
He was undone in such a different way than when we’d hooked up on our last date.
“Look at that.” He licked his lips and gestured to the demonstration of a pin-knocking midway game. “Magnets. I’d bet you anything.”
The ghoulish game attendant touched something right before a player threw the ball. Most of the pins went down, but not all of them. That center-left one was looking pretty sturdy.
“Even the dead are dishonest.” I tutted and gestured to other booths. “Do you think any of the games are fair? What about darts? Oh, unless they use dull ones.”
“Some places under inflate the balloons so the plastic’s harder to pierce. The big ones are stretched so they’re easier to pop.” He glanced at my chest and swallowed. “Did you want to play anything?”
“No.” Jinx couldn’t use any of the prizes as toys, and I certainly didn’t need them.
He leaned close, his voice rumbling down to my bones. “I have tricks, if you want to win.”
I rolled my lip between my teeth.
I did want to play. With him.
We should do one more date-thing first, though. “What about ax-throwing?”
“Oh.” He straightened and blinked at the stalls with chopped-up targets. “Yes, we can do that.”He fished for his wallet,
I waved him off and said, “You got the haunted house tickets and dinner. Let me cover our drinks and ax-throwing.”
He nodded. “That sounds like a perfectly balanced evening.”
“Indeed. Like a grown-up trick-or-treating.” I beamed at the idea of frolicking station to station hand-in-hand with Victor amid a bizarre, beautiful world.
His eyes flashed. Did he also see some kind of fantasy? Or was he just looking at me?
My mind was on fire tonight. Probably all that adrenaline. I wanted to enjoy our night, not overthink it. At the drink stand, we got two plastic commemorative skull cups with some kind of killer-clown inspired drinks that had cotton candy garnish. It tasted like a mix of sports and energy drinks, which was probably where they got the rainbow coloring.
He winced after one sip. “This is disgusting.”
“Put the cotton candy in it.” I sprinkled the sugary confection into the bitter brew and offered him a sip. It was almost good, then.
He licked his lips and furrowed his brow. “Interesting combination.”
That didn’t mean he liked it.
I snorted and held up the mug. “At least we got commemorative cups.”
“To many more adventures.” He clinked his plastic skull against mine, our drinks sloshing much like my insides. We smiled at each other over our rims, pinkies raised in cheers.
Did he want more adventures with me? Or in general?
I guessed buying a trinket on a date meant our affection for it would change if our relationship ever soured. But it was a treat. A nice memory, even if it was plastic. At least I could donate or recycle it in some worst-case scenario where he’d ghost me after three weeks.
“One of us can mind the drinks while the other throws the axes,” I offered.
“These are hatchets,” the attendant corrected.
Whatever. It was a small ax and a big target, and we still managed to miss. The metal thudded against the wood panels, then dropped to the floor with a sad little clink.
“We would make terrible serial killers,” I said.
Victor quirked his brow. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Not if there’s a zombie apocalypse,” I said.
He snickered and shook his head. Leaning on his back foot, he readjusted his grip on the wooden hatchet handle and focused on the board, his forearm flexing under those rolled-up sleeves. His intensity slowed down everything around me. My heart pounded in anticipation.
He pushed off his foot, whipping the hatchet through the night air. It spun. It whirred. It slammed into the board in the third stripe of the target tier, splintering the wood behind it.
I hugged his side in a triumphant cheer. “Ah, congrats. That’s my killer.”
He chuckled and rubbed my goosebump-riddled arm. “Now, let’s see you do it.”
He helped me with my form, his fingers ghosting over my skin as he whispered suggestions. Fuck, his warm breath against the shell of my ear…his steady heartbeat against my back…the subtle, but firm way he spread my legs from behind… I wanted…
“Hey, you can’t stand that close together with the hatchet.” The attendant gestured for us to add some distance.
Victor bowed as he stepped away. “My apologies. I often forget she’s a dangerous woman.”
I glared without malice, every nerve ending on fire. My rough edges were half my sex appeal—at least at first glance. But he already knew about my soft heart. The girl who sacrificed The Widow viewing experience to make someone else smile. By now, he knew who I was. And what I wanted. I was done with hatchets. I wanted to fuck him.
Blinking fondly like a cat, Victor gestured to the target. “Dispose of last zombie at our reception, and then we can enjoy our honeymoon, my beloved.”
Beloved? Was this still part of the game or a sly confession?
Either way, this target was going down.
I rocked back on my leg and threw the hatchet as hard as I could. The thrust reverberated through my arm all the way to my toes. I might as well have flung my heart at the board.
Somehow, it landed. The hatchet sank into the wood with the same fierce determination Jinx dug his claws into catnip-infused mice toys.
I screamed and spread my arms. “Oh my god, I got it.” Laughing, I spun to Victor. “Jason Vorhees would be so proud of me right now.”
He chuckled at the classic horror villain reference. “And so am I.” He hugged me tight, our hearts thumping so hard I could feel them pulsing through our clothes.
I gripped his vest and arched my neck to gaze at him like we were in some haunted harlequin romance. “Take me home?”
He caressed my jaw and blinked, his gaze darkening with tender affirmation. “As you wish.”
We kissed, grabbed our stuff, then high-tailed it to the car.
His knee bounced as he drove. He had one hand on the steering wheel, the other stroking the inside of my thigh. Did he not know what that did to me? Desire tickled my veins. I laced my fingers through his and moved our joined hands to a spot less likely to make me wet.
“Can we go any faster?” I wiggled my hips.
His lip twitched up. “Are you ready for this?”
What was ‘this?’ Our burgeoning relationship? Warp speed? Penetrative sex?
Whatever his intention was, I nodded with confidence. “Yes.”
He flipped a switch. A brilliant blue light streaked across his dashboard with the phantom promise of a shooting star. It wound around the windows and circled his wheel, the glowing veins mimicking the life blood of his car. I sat forward in awe, transported into a sci-fi phenomenon. We were in our own pocket universe. A wonder. Going somewhere neither of us had gone before—at least not with each other. Cast in a cool glow, he smiled at me. The starry beams reflected in his dark eyes seared themselves across my heart.
Whatever beast roamed the sullen corners of my mind panted and pawed at the prospect of playing with its own kind. Victor and I had similar minds. Or maybe hearts. Maybe we were drawn to the beauty of darkness because it forced people to feel, to find what made them burn: a friend, a fear, a foe, a desire. Even our faith. It stripped us to our cores. We were vulnerable. We could find salvation. Right now, Victor was my glimmering light.
I was going to rock his world. Tonight.