Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
We make it halfway through a mix CD filled with Pearl Jam, Smashing Pumpkins, and Nirvana on the short drive to Lochport.
The fairgrounds are toward the outskirts of town, and the carnival is set up in a huge farm field.
I’m giddy with excitement as we drive by the entrance, and my eyes move from the biggest Ferris wheel I’ve ever seen to an intricate merry-go-round and finally to families all over, eating giant spools of powder-blue cotton candy and cherry-red candy apples.
“I want to eat everything and go on every single ride,” I say, almost bouncing up and down in my seat as Dylan looks for a place to park.
We finally land on a spot in the field next to the fairgrounds and walk over to the front gate, where we pay our admission to get in.
Carnival music plays over the speakers above us, and everywhere I turn, it’s a medley of colours and flashing lights.
The sun is low in the sky, painting the field in its golden hues, as we make our way through the delicious-smelling food stands, over to the booth where you can buy the ride tickets.
Dylan hands over some cash to the older woman manning the booth, and in return, we get an array of red, blue, and yellow tickets. Holding them up in front of me, he asks what ride I want to go on first.
My body turns as I do a full three-sixty of my surroundings, taking in everything.
There’s a ride that flips you upside down as it spins, blue, pink, and green bumper cars crashing into each other, and flower-painted teacups spinning faster than my eyes can register.
Lights flash all around us, and people are lined up at their ride of choice.
I close my eyes, turn around once more, and stick my finger out, pointing at something I can’t yet see.
Opening them, I look ahead at a very tall yellow ride called The Zipper.
I turn toward Dylan, and he cocks an eyebrow at me.
“Alright, Luce. Let’s go.” He grabs my hand, and we make our way toward the absolutely terrifying-looking attraction.
The name seems quite fitting as my eyes scan the track that shoots straight up and back down in an oval—while fully spinning around—as smaller cars run along a track.
Also spinning. Lots of spinning with this one.
The carnival lights blink in every colour, and the music is way too loud, almost drowning out the screams from all the passengers.
We wait in line, anticipation brimming through my fingers as I bounce from one foot to the other, waiting for it to be our turn.
As I watch the couple in front of us pass through the gates, the attendant gives us a nod, and we walk up to him.
Dylan hands the tickets over to the freckle-covered teenager, and the little door opens for us.
An involuntary squeal escapes me as we make our way over to the first available car.
We buckle ourselves in, and the attendant comes and locks us in the cage we’re sitting in. My eyes turn to Dylan, who is beside me, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and his hands grip the bar in front of us.
“You okay, Dyl?” I ask as I nudge his stiff shoulders.
“Yep,” he mutters as he keeps looking straight ahead, concentrating on the strobe lights poking through the holes of the white metal cage we’re locked in.
“You don’t like this ride, do you?” I ask, placing my hand on his leg, feeling a slight twitch from the impact.
“Not really, but that’s okay.” He tosses me a slightly reassuring smile and places his hands on his legs, white-knuckling the fabric of his jeans as we get ready to move.
“Dylan!” I shout. “Why didn’t you say something? We don’t have to be on this ride.” I shake my head at him as he quirks a small smile back at me.
“You want to go on this ride, so I want to go on this ride,” is all he gets out before the sound of a loud horn fills our ears, and the car jerks forward on the track.
I squeal again as we’re lurched forward, the car falling backwards and forwards as we trail up to the top, getting higher and higher.
I take Dylan’s hand in mine, a huge smile plastered across my face as I look out through the cage and take in the fair below us.
“This is amazing!” I scream as we’re thrown forward and down from the top to the bottom, loose strands of hair falling across my face.
This ride is washing away all the stress and emotions from the last month, and it’s almost freeing in a way. I close my eyes and let the swoopy feeling in my stomach take over as I lean into my favourite person in the world. Here. This is where I need to be right now. Here with him.
We do a few more loops, the car spinning ferociously as we do, and whenever I can, I sneak a glance over at Dylan, who stares at the floor while the hint of a smirk grows on his lips. It’s like he absolutely hates this ride, but wouldn’t choose to be anywhere else right now.
“We’ll do the bumper cars next, deal?” I shout in his ear before the car does a full flip, and we both yelp in surprise.
“Deal!” he replies, and then suddenly, we’re back at the bottom as the ride comes to a complete stop.
There’s one more loud siren sound, and then everything settles.
We both get ourselves unbuckled while our teenage friend makes his way over and unlocks the cage for us.
Then, with wobbly legs, we stand, making our way out of the white car.
“That was so fun, but I promise I won’t make you go on that again,” I laugh as we carefully step down the stairs, bringing our feet to the ground once more.
“That’s probably for the best,” he responds as we weave through the crowds of people toward the bumper cars. It reminds me of a covered outdoor skating rink, except instead of people inside skating over the ice, they’re seated in colourful cars, bumping into each other. Repeatedly.
I can’t wait.
“Just so you know,” I say as we hand over our tickets to get in, “I’m going in my own car.
And I’m going to destroy you.” I wink as I blow him a kiss with my hand, and my eyes lock on a bright pink car, claiming it as mine.
He finds a blue one from across the space, taking two fingers and pointing them toward his eyes before aiming them back at me. He’s coming for me. Let’s go.
After two highly competitive rounds of bumper cars, both of us taking the other down repeatedly, we head toward the food stands to feed our growling bellies.
“Okay,” Dylan starts as he pulls me toward a white-and-red stand displaying all the different treats they sell across the top banner. “This is the best one, trust me.”
A neon red-and-yellow arrow points everyone to the front, where we can place our order.
The scene in front of me feels so different than it would in my time.
All the groups of people surrounding the stands, but not one person taking their phone out to snap a picture of the incredibly inexpensive food they’re being served.
Everyone here is truly living in the moment, and it’s refreshing to see.
We step up to the counter, and Dylan orders us two corn dogs, cotton candy, and a candy apple. Everything I wanted.
“Is the whole thing with carnivals that you have to eat the food on a stick?” I ask, genuinely curious, as he hands me my corn dog and cotton candy on a spool.
It’s the most perfect shade of powder blue with pastel pink swirls throughout, and I stick my tongue out to taste the sweet treat.
The cotton candy instantly melts on my tongue, causing me to jerk it back, eyes wide as I look at him.
“It melts!” I exclaim, and he nods, grabbing his own little piece and popping it into his mouth. “It’s pure sugar. Delicious.”
After our feast of sugary, greasy carnival food, we hit up a few more fair rides, spinning way too fast on the teacups I spotted when we came in, rattling our brains on a ride called the Scrambler, and laughing at Dylan’s large frame attempting to sit on the minuscule carousel horse on the merry-go-round.
He ended up standing with the horse between his legs and an unimpressed look sported on his face the entire time. It was pure comedy.
Finally, as the crescent moon sits high in the sky, we wait in line for the ride I’ve been the most excited for.
The Ferris wheel. I don’t have the best concept of measurement, but this ride is tall.
It easily rises higher than anything else here, and I’m sure you can almost see the ocean when you’re at the top.
Each car is part of a pattern of colours.
Blue, yellow, green, pink, purple, and red, and the top of each car is completely open to the night sky.
We sit in a green one, and I note that the green, under the lights from the top of the ride, is almost the same shade as Dylan’s eyes.
That realization causes a smile to grow on my face as I look up at him.
We get locked in, and I wait for the ride to start, my fingers thrumming on the metal bar in front of me.
The Ferris wheel is definitely a lot smoother than the Zipper. There are no awkward, jerky movements as we glide effortlessly in a huge loop up to the top and back around again.
“This is incredible,” I say to Dylan as my head rests on his shoulder. He leans over and kisses the top of my head, and we sit there together as the car makes a couple more loops without stopping.
Darkness covers the farm fields around us, and the lights from the ride pair well with the yellow light of the moon above us.
Dylan rests his hand on my thigh, spreading his fingers and gripping tight, a shiver rolling through my body from the touch.
I turn toward him, cocking an eyebrow, and as we float back up to the top, his hand moves up an inch.
Tingles rush to my low belly, and I press myself closer to him.
He leans forward and kisses me, and I angle myself so my back is pressed against the side of the seat.
As the car moves up, the ride halts, as passengers begin to get off and on, buying us a little more time together here.
He grazes the front of my jeans, and I sigh into his mouth as he kisses me even deeper.
Biting his lip, I whisper, “I think this is my favourite ride.”
“Mine too,” he adds as he comes down to nip my neck before bringing his lips back up to mine.
He looks around us, noting that from where we are, no one can see into our car.
We’re perfectly angled and hidden, and the sides of the car are high enough to cover our bottom halves.
Slowly, carefully, he unbuttons my jeans, pulls the zipper down, and runs his finger along my bare skin before moving his hand down my pants and finding me wet and waiting for him.
“Mmm,” he hums as his finger runs along my slit. “You’re ready for me.”
“I am,” I breathe as he slips one, then two fingers inside me, a gasp escaping from the pressure and feel of them, curling at the knuckles as they move up.
“Mine.” His voice is gravel as he thrusts in and out of me, torturously slowly, causing me to whine for more. “I love that you’re mine and I’m yours,” he says as his thumb finds my clit and rubs languid circles over my most sensitive spot.
“I love that too,” I say as I feel the pleasure building, wanting nothing more than to release from me. “I-I’m close, Dyl.”
“That’s my girl. Come on my fingers.” He keeps pumping, kissing my neck and lips and anywhere his mouth can find, while the ride continues to stop and start. “Be quiet for me, okay?”
“Okay.” I bite down on my lip and sigh out as my toes threaten to curl, and my lower body starts to quiver from the rolling orgasm that’s ready to slip out.
I grab his free hand, squeezing it, hoping it helps keep me quiet.
His mouth crashes into mine, and my breath hitches as he keeps going, the world around me spinning even faster than the ride we’re on.
Just as it’s ready to pour out of me, the car jerks forward and doesn’t stop again like it had been.
We’re making our way to the bottom, and Dylan has to bring his hand back to his lap, a whine falling out of my lips. “I was so close,” I say.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make it up to you.” His fingers glisten under the lights of the Ferris wheel.
He brings them up to my parted lips, and I take them in my mouth, sucking them clean, before his teasing grin grows and he kisses me again.
“I can’t wait to taste you when we get home,” he whispers, and I whimper.
“And make you scream my name when you come.”
He zips my jeans back up and does the button for me, giving me a kiss on the cheek before adjusting himself slightly in his seat. “Lucy Brooks, if only you knew what you did to me.”
I lean into him and close my eyes. I like to think I have an idea.
When we make it back to the bottom, the car stops, and we hop off, sneaking looks at each other and lost in our own little world together, not caring one bit about how dishevelled we both must appear.
“Should we head home?” Dylan asks coyly, and I nod in agreement. We grab one more candy apple for the road and head back to the car.