12. Nate
Chapter twelve
Nate
T he air was thick with the sweet scent of popcorn, cotton candy, and other carnival treats. I felt Susan's hand brush lightly against mine, a silent acknowledgment of our true feelings and the nervous energy buzzing between us.
We made our way through the crowd, past booths filled with laughing children and couples strolling hand in hand. A banner for the three-legged race caught my eye. I glanced at Susan to find her looking at me, a playful twinkle in her eyes.
"We're not doing that," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though the idea of our legs bound together sent my pulse racing.
"Oh, why not?" she teased, with a wickedly innocent smile that made it impossible to resist her. "Afraid of tripping over your two left feet?"
Before I could defend my superior coordination, her hand was in mine, leading us toward the sign-up booth.
With our legs bound together, we lined up at the start of the race. Susan shot me a look of mock seriousness as she adjusted her glasses .
"And no pulling me down," she warned, shaking her finger at me, "I've got a reputation to maintain."
"As the town's most graceful librarian?" I quipped, earning a swat on my arm and a laugh that echoed around us.
Our joking was interrupted by the starting gun. It caught us off guard, and Susan let out a small yelp, almost toppling us both.
“Whoa there,” I steadied her with an arm around her waist.
We nearly toppled over more than once, saved only by my arm around Susan's waist or her hand grasping my shoulder.
"This was a terrible idea!" Susan gasped through her giggles.
"The worst," I agreed, struggling not to step on her feet again.
"Right foot, left foot, breathe," Susan coached.
"Easy for you to say," I retorted.
"Focus," she teased. Her breathless laughter made it difficult to concentrate on anything but her proximity.
Somehow, we crossed the finish line without falling, arriving in a respectable, if not graceful, third place. Untying our legs, I pulled Susan in for a spontaneous hug. Her body felt delicate yet strong pressed against mine.
"We made it," she cheered. But her eyes told me she was as moved by the moment as I was.
Our bubble burst as Tiffany headed our way. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you two, just like I promised. I might have to contact the Rivermint Cove gossip mill.”
“I saw your little love demonstration at the fundraiser yesterday, and I am pretty sure you did it just to throw me off your scent. I’m still not convinced that this is real.” She wagged her finger and pointed it back and forth between the two of us.
“I haven't seen affectionate kisses or anything to indicate a romantic relationship. And let's be honest, why would someone like Nate be engaged to someone like you, a nerdy librarian? When he could have someone like me."
Her words hung like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over our shared triumph. Susan stiffened, her eyes sparkling with a hurt that made my blood boil.
"The thing about romance, Tiffany," I said, stepping between the women, "is that it's not a spectator sport."
I turned back to look at Susan, her eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. I wanted to wipe away every drop of doubt Tiffany's words had rained upon Susan's fragile confidence. I took her hand, tangling our fingers together in comfortable intimacy.
"Romance," I murmured, "is the little things that make the everyday extraordinary. It's shared laughter, stolen glances, and synchronized steps in a ridiculous three-legged race. It's not about public displays to satisfy nosy spectators." I felt Susan's fingers squeeze mine, her slight smile blooming like a sunrise.
"Furthermore," my voice hardened as I turned back to Tiffany, "when you attempt to belittle Susan, you only succeed in broadcasting your own insecurities and diminishing yourself."
Tiffany stood, mouth agape, as if desperate to respond, but no words came. I took a step back toward Susan, our hands still entwined.
"Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a photo booth to visit."
Without waiting for Tiffany's reaction, I led Susan away. The festival was alive with upbeat music and laughter, but all I could hear was Susan's quiet sigh of relief. It felt like a victory song, and my heart pounded in tune.
The photo booth was in a quiet corner, draped with fairy lights that twinkled like stars. The mild scent of sunflowers from a nearby stall perfumed the evening air as we slipped inside. There was a small stool for us to sit on, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at our comical attempts to fit in.
“Am I crushing you?” I asked, trying to shift my six-foot frame into the cramped quarters. My right knee rested awkwardly against the booth's wall while my left bumped Susan's.
“Just a little,” she replied, her voice shaky but laced with laughter. “But it’s okay.”
We ended up in fits of giggles, our bodies shaking as we tried to adjust ourselves for the camera. “Ready?" I pressed the button, and the machine whirred to life.
The first picture captured us mid-laugh. My head was thrown back in unbridled hilarity while Susan's hand was pressed against her mouth, her eyes sparkling with delight.
The second had me pulling a goofy face, my tongue sticking out while Susan showed off her crossed eyes.
But it was the third picture that held my heart captive. It was a moment without pretense or posing. It caught us as I placed a tender kiss on Susan's forehead. Her eyes closed, a soft blush dusted her cheeks, and a gentle smile played on her lips. The shutter clicked, sealing the image—and my fate—forever.
"Wow," Susan exhaled as we emerged. "That was... fun."
I couldn't help but agree. The picture strip was still warm, the images capturing moments that felt too intimate to share with anyone else.
“Now,” Susan began, fiddling with her vintage necklace, "I think there's a cotton candy stand over there calling our names."
The cotton candy stand was decked in pastel hues, a frothy pink cloud swirling on top of a giant cone stealing the show.
"You choose," I nudged Susan playfully, eyeing the colorful options. "Pink lemonade or blue raspberry?"
"Blue raspberry, definitely." Susan’s face lit up like a kid's as she watched the strands of sugar bloom into fluffy cotton candy. I found myself grinning as I handed over the money and took the spun sugar confection from the vendor, passing it to Susan.
Watching Susan try to eat the cotton candy without getting it on her nose was a silent comedy that had me chuckling.
"Stop laughing. It's a serious technique," she protested, her giggles giving away her pretend annoyance.
"Clearly, I'm in the presence of a master." I teased, raising my eyebrows in feigned admiration.
"Absolutely," she affirmed with a playful nod, "the art of cotton candy consumption is not to be underestimated."
I laughed and grabbed her hand, pulling her to the center of the festival grounds where the Ferris wheel was.
"Oh, no," Susan protested, her eyes widening as she looked up at the towering Ferris wheel. “I don’t do heights, Nate.”
"Come on," I coaxed, “What’s the worst that could happen? You could drop your fluffy sugar cloud? ”
She rolled her eyes at my joke, but the corners of her lips twitched upwards in a reluctant smile. "If I drop my cotton candy, Dr. Reynolds, you owe me another one."
"Deal," I agreed, releasing her hand to purchase the tickets.
Our carriage creaked and swayed as it ascended into the sky, Susan clutching the bars white-knuckled, her cotton candy forgotten in her lap. As the world dropped away beneath us, I felt a tug inside me at the sight of her vulnerability.
"Hey, look at me," I said gently, taking her free hand. Her eyes met mine, wide and unsure.
"I've got you, Susan." I squeezed her hand. She nodded, releasing the death grip on the bar and clutching onto my hand instead.
As we reached the top of the rotation, the city lights twinkled beneath us, and Susan let out a soft gasp.
Slowly, her fear shifted to awe as she took in the panorama of lights covering our little town of Rivermint Cove. A smile found its way onto her face as she rested her head on my shoulder, our hands still interlocked.
"Wow, Rivermint Cove is beautiful from up here," she murmured, her eyes reflecting the glittering city lights.
"It sure is," I agreed, but my gaze never left her.
Our cart descended, and her initial fear seemed to have evaporated. As we disembarked, her laughter rang out over the festival sounds. Hearing the joy in her voice gave me a warm sense of satisfaction.
"Well, I survived," she shook her head incredulously, "I actually enjoyed it!"
"See? All you need is a little push sometimes." I shot her a teasing smile .
"Hey, no fair!" she playfully shoved me. "You used your doctor 'trust me' voice."
I lifted an eyebrow at her, a smile playing on my lips. "Do I have a doctor 'trust me' voice?"
She stared at me for a moment, a false, serious expression on her face. "Oh, absolutely," she nodded, pointing a finger at me. "It's all calm and comforting, like 'trust me, I've done this surgery a hundred times,' or 'trust me, this won't hurt a bit.' It's not fair."
I laughed at her description, the warm sound mixing with the distant hum of the festival. "Well, I'm glad it's working."
Turning away from the Ferris Wheel, we wandered back through the carnival stalls. Susan paused at a booth lined with stuffed animals, her eyes sparkling with childlike excitement.
"Look at those pandas!” she exclaimed, pointing to a row of adorable black and white fluffies.
"Do you think you can win one?" her eyebrows danced in the challenge as she gestured towards the ring toss set up.
"I don't know about ring toss, but I'm a pro at the water gun race." I steered her towards the booth next to it, a row of water shooters facing an array of colorful racing horses.
As we took our places in line, Susan's eyes were fixed on the prize—an oversized stuffed panda that would look perfect in her cozy reading nook at the library. It was a light-hearted competition, but I was determined to win that panda for her.
The game started, and we squeezed our triggers, water streaming toward the tiny targets. Susan's horse took an early lead, making her squeal in delight. My competitive side kicked in, and I focused on my target with laser-like precision. Our horses moved neck-and-neck down the track. The cheers and laughter from the people around us became a blur as I heard the bell ring. I looked to see Susan jumping up and down with joy. Her horse had crossed the finish line a fraction of a second before mine.
She turned to me, her eyes shining with triumph. "I won! Did you see that?"
“Congratulations, champ,” I replied as the vendor handed her the giant panda with a large red bow around its neck. Her smile could have outshone the glittering fairground lights.
The festival was winding down as the night grew darker. Susan held her prize as we walked towards the exit, feeling the cool air on our faces.
"You know," she began, nudging me with her shoulder, "I think you let me win."
"What?" I feigned shock, clutching my chest dramatically. "That's outrageous!"
"Right," she said, laughing. The great Nate Reynolds, losing at a water gun race? It's highly unlikely.”
Grinning, I shrugged, “Maybe I'm just not as good at shooting water guns as I thought. Or maybe...” I shifted closer, lowering my voice to a playful whisper, "I was distracted by the extremely cute opponent."
Her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink, and her eyes sparkled like two stars in the night. She was speechless for a moment, but then a smile slowly spread across her face.
"I guess that's a plausible explanation," she murmured.
"Maybe." I grinned, leaning in to kiss her cheek lightly. "Or maybe I did let you win."
She gasped, hitting my arm. "You did not! "
"I guess we'll never know," I teased, chuckling as she pouted at me.
"I can't believe you," she huffed, but I could see the twinkle in her eyes.
As we reached her car, she paused and looked up at me. The panda clutched to her chest like a trophy.
"I had fun tonight!" Her eyes held an intensity that stole my breath away.
"Me too," I admitted, my hand tracing gentle circles on her back. "We should do this more often."
“I'd love that."
With a final brush of my lips against her forehead, I whispered a tender goodnight. The carnival atmosphere had almost completely dissipated, replaced by the peaceful allure of the night.
As she climbed into her car, the scent of cotton candy and popcorn lingered in the air, mixing with the cool night breeze. I watched her taillights disappear, an unexpected emptiness flooding me.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I turned and walked to my car, anticipation already building within me for our next encounter.