Chapter 6 #4
The first game they drag me to is one of those milk bottle pyramids where you throw balls to knock them down. Simple in theory. Impossible in practice. The bottles are weighted, the balls are too light, and the whole thing is designed to take your money and crush your dreams.
Kai goes first, rolling up his sleeves like he’s preparing for battle. His first throw is good, solid contact, but only two bottles fall.
“Rigged,” he announces.
“It’s not rigged,” the booth operator says tiredly. “You just missed.”
“I don’t miss.” But he hands over more tickets for another try.
Carter steps up beside him. “Move over. Let me show you how it’s done.”
What follows is the most intense ten minutes of carnival gaming I’ve ever witnessed.
They take turns throwing, each one trying to outdo the other. Kai adjusts his stance, calculates angles, treats each throw like a precision military operation. Carter goes for pure power, hurling the balls with enough force that I’m surprised they don’t punch through the back of the booth.
Neither of them wins.
“This is definitely rigged,” Carter says.
“Maybe you both just suck,” I offer.
They turn to look at me with identical expressions of offense.
“Excuse me?” Kai presses a hand to his chest. “Did you just question my athletic abilities?”
Carter nudges Kai. “She’s got a point. We’ve thrown, like, thirty balls and won nothing.”
“We haven’t won yet.” Kai turns back to the booth, a dangerous glint in his eye. “We’re just warming up.”
Twenty more minutes and a frankly embarrassing number of tickets later, they finally win. Kai’s throw catches the bottom corner of the pyramid at exactly the right angle, and the whole thing goes down in a cascade of clattering bottles.
The booth operator hands over a stuffed cow with a dopey expression, and Kai presents it to me like it’s the crown jewels.
“For you, my lady.”
“You spent probably fifty dollars winning a five-dollar cow.”
“The prize is priceless.” He grins. “Because I won it for you.”
We move on. Balloon darts. Ring toss. That basketball game with the hoops that are definitely smaller than regulation.
At each booth, they approach with the intensity of Olympic athletes, trash-talking each other constantly while I watch and laugh and accumulate an increasingly ridiculous pile of prizes.
The bumper cars are next.
Carter draws me into his car, a battered blue thing that’s seen better days, and suddenly I’m pressed against his side, his arm around my shoulders, his thigh warm against mine.
“Ready?” His voice is low, close to my ear. “For me to defend your honor against any and all attackers.”
I snort. “My hero.”
Kai is in a car across the rink, grinning like a maniac. When the buzzer sounds, he immediately guns for us, but Carter spins us out of the way at the last second, sending Kai careening into the wall.
“HA!” Carter crows.
“This is war!” Kai yells back, reversing.
They chase each other around the rink while I hold on and laugh until my stomach hurts. Carter’s arm keeps reaching for my thigh when we take hard turns.
When the ride ends, I’m breathless and giddy and my cheeks hurt from smiling.
“That was amazing,” I manage.
“Just the beginning.” Carter helps me out of the car, his hand lingering on mine. “We’ve got hours yet.”
They weren’t kidding about the competition.
As the night goes on, the pile of prizes grows absurd.
I’ve lost count of who won what stuffed animals, inflatable swords, a poster of a horse that Carter insisted on because it reminded him of me, and I’m still not sure if that’s a compliment.
We made several trips to the car already with the prizes.
And somewhere along the way, the touches start to linger.
Kai’s hand on my lower back as he guides me through the crowd. Carter’s fingers intertwining with mine when we’re walking between booths. The way they lean in when they talk to me, close enough that I can feel their breath, smell their scents, count their eyelashes.
It’s intoxicating. Overwhelming. Every brush of contact sends sparks across my skin, and I keep having to remind myself that this is just a fun night. Just a fantasy that can’t last.
But God, I don’t want it to end.
By the time the fair starts shutting down, our arms are overflowing and my face hurts from smiling.
We stroll back to my car one final time, a slow meander through the emptying fairgrounds, and the mood shifts. Softer. More intimate. The fairy lights overhead cast everything in a golden glow, and the cold air makes me press closer to their warmth.
We reach my car, and I pop the trunk, then open one of the back doors, adding the rest to what’s already there.
“This is insane,” I say. “I’m going to have to strap things to the roof.”
“Worth it,” Kai says, starting to load things in. “Every single one.”
When everything is packed, barely, I turn to find them both watching me. Standing close enough that their scents mingle in the air between us.
“Stay,” Carter says softly. “Come out with us. The night doesn’t have to end.”
My heart pounds, and every instinct is screaming at me to say yes, to let them take me wherever they want, to stop fighting whatever this is.
“I can’t.” The words come out breathier than I intended. “It’s late. I should go.”
“Should?” Kai steps closer. “Or want to?”
“Both.” I force a breath into lungs that don’t seem to want to cooperate. “This was the best night I’ve had in… I can’t even remember.” My voice goes softer despite me. “But I’m tired, and I feel a little off, and I think I need to go home and… process everything before I do something stupid.”
Kai’s mouth curves like he appreciates my honesty. Carter’s gaze lingers on me, steady and careful, as though he’s reading the parts I’m not saying out loud.
They exchange a look, something quiet passing between them, and then they both nod.
“All right,” Carter says, and the disappointment is there, but he doesn’t try to hold me hostage with it. “Go home.” His voice drops, gentler. “But don’t disappear on us.”
Kai steps in close enough that I catch his scent again, that warm, addictive pull my body keeps reacting to before my brain can veto it. “Text when you get home,” he says, like it’s not a request. Like it’s the kind of thing that matters. “So I know you’re safe.”
My chest tightens, not from fear, not exactly. But from something tender that makes me want to turn defensive, makes me want to pretend it doesn’t hit. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he cuts in, easy but firm, and it lands right in the middle of me.
Carter’s hand brushes my elbow, barely there, but it anchors me. “Tonight was good,” he says, quietly enough that it feels like it’s just for me. “You were good. Don’t let your head talk you out of that.”
I should say no. Should keep that barrier in place. Should remember every reason this is dangerous.
But my fingers are already pulling out my phone.
Numbers are exchanged. Kai watches me type. When my screen lights up with their names, it feels like a line I can’t un-cross.
Then I’m climbing into my car, surrounded by plush animals and ridiculous prizes, barely able to see out the back window, and they’re still there in the parking lot, watching like they’re reluctant to let the night end.
Kai lifts two fingers to his mouth and flicks me a kiss like he’s cocky enough to believe I’ll catch it. Carter raises a hand in a slow wave, his smile soft in the fairy lights.
I drive away.
This is a terrible idea. Getting close to them, letting them in, pretending I could ever be what they’re looking for.
But as the fair lights fade in my rearview mirror, as I replay every touch, every grin, every quiet moment where I felt… chosen, I can’t bring myself to regret any of it.
Not even a little.