3. Sawyer
SAWYER
“I can’t believe you’ve never had fair food,” I exclaimed, shoving a piece of funnel cake into my mouth.
“Never been to a fair, so I don’t normally seek this stuff out,” Beckett said, smiling as he licked powdered sugar from his fingers. I couldn’t help but watch him eat. It was strangely hot. Everything about him was hot. It was horrible.
Beckett had been adamantly opposed to eating anything after we bought tickets, so I decided to take him on a few of the so-called rides first. There were the spinning teacups, which earned a skeptical nod as I dragged him forward, and the giant boat that turned his face green when it started to swing.
My favorite was the haunted house, complete with a hall of mirrors.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so hard I cried, but taking in our distorted images had us both clutching our sides.
The whole thing was cheesy and dumb, but that didn’t stop my heart rate from picking up when he held my hand as a masked killer chased us back into the fresh air.
My plan had worked in the end, and all the spent adrenaline had worked up enough of an appetite that he was willing to try Pinecrest’s finest artery-clogging fair food.
“But it’s good, isn’t it?” I asked.
He glanced down at his food. For a moment, I worried I had misread the situation, but then his lips curved, and he gave a subtle dip of his chin.
“I get the hype now. This is delicious.” He reached over, grabbed a corndog, and dipped it into the plop of mustard in the red-and-white checkered basket. “Consider me a changed man.”
“I still can’t believe you’ve never even had a corndog before. That was an entire food group when I was a kid. They were so easy to pop in the microwave during the summer when my grandma was at work,” I said, watching him devour the food.
Seeing him enjoy himself while doing something I suggested was strangely satisfying.
When we arrived, I was nervous that this would be a catastrophe.
The small talk was awkward at first. Beckett seemed hesitant to do or say anything for fear of making a mistake.
Every time I glanced his way, he blushed and ducked his head, keeping conversation as light as possible.
But once we ordered our food and sat down at a table, I could barely get him to stop talking.
Apparently, the rumors were true. The way to get a man to open up was through his stomach. Who knew?
The only thing I couldn’t stop thinking about was how his phone had vibrated non-stop since we got here.
Every ten to fifteen minutes, Beckett would reach into his pocket, stare at the screen, and push decline.
I told him he could answer it. He seemed like a busy man, and I didn’t want to stand in the way of that, but each time he shook his head and told me there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
Beckett shook his head. “This is my parents’ worst nightmare. They’d rather die than be caught in a ten-mile radius of a corndog or a Dairy Queen.”
I reached across the table for a fry. “But what did you have to eat for your birthday parties growing up? It’s not like they have a chain of Michelin-starred Chuck-E-Cheeses.”
His chuckle was dry. “Oh, I’ve never really had one. Birthdays were more of a reason for my parents to gather with their equally rich friends and talk about their investment portfolios or whatever.”
I blinked, unable to process what he was saying. “What do you mean you’ve never had a birthday party? Isn’t that, like, illegal?”
“If it is, my parents should be behind bars,” he muttered, trying to keep his tone upbeat.
“Don’t get me wrong… My friends sometimes drag me out for a drink or two to celebrate, but the whole balloons, pizza, and blowing out candles on a store-bought cake thing?
” He shook his head. “I thought it was just some bullshit in movies until I met my sister.”
Without thinking, I placed my hand on his arm. Beckett glanced down, smirking at the contact. “We have to change that. When’s your birthday?”
I wasn’t sure why I asked. We’d surely never see each other again after tonight, but there was something about this moment that made me want to make plans we never intended to follow through on.
Call me selfish, but I wanted him to think of the naive girl from the small town county fair for one single day every year.
I wanted to be a memory he couldn’t forget.
To my surprise, he played along. “March 17th. Should I clear my schedule that day?”
“Yes,” I said immediately. “Maybe clear the week. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
My mind was already whirling with impossible possibilities.
If he’d never had a birthday party before, I was willing to bet he’d never had a bounce house, either.
That was a must. And we could stuff ourselves with cheap pizza before he finally made a wish and blew out the candles on a silly decorated cake.
His eyes lit up as I explained all the different necessary components of a good birthday.
Even if it wasn’t with me, I hoped he followed through with it someday.
“Sounds like you have it all planned out.” Beckett popped the last bit of funnel cake into his mouth, pushing the grease-stained plate away.
I shrugged like it was nothing, suddenly feeling shy. Why the hell did I ramble on about a stupid party? We were on a date. Sort of. “Perks of living in a small town, I guess. There’s not much to do but dream.”
“And your dream is to throw me the birthday party I never had?” he teased. “Seems a little boring. Surely there’s something more you’d like.”
My gaze dropped to my lap as I thought about his words.
Of course, I wanted more out of life than what I had now, but that wasn’t the hand I was dealt.
No matter how hard I worked, I couldn’t get ahead.
Bills piled up every single day, and I was struggling just to keep the electricity on and a roof over our head.
Dreaming of bigger things felt like stacking wants in one hand, and shitting in the other. Only one filled up at the end of the day.
I shrugged. “Sure, but I like to set my sights on things that are more reasonable. Throwing a party seems like an easy win.”
Beckett leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. The way he was staring felt far too personal, like he was studying me, trying to peel back my layers and understand what made me tick.
Unfortunately for both of us, this was my brave face. The further down he went, the more he’d only find someone who lived in a constant state of insecurity and doubt. Even now, I struggled to relax knowing there were likely curious eyes watching us.
If there was one thing Pinecrest did well, it was gossip. It didn’t matter what it was or if it was true. All it took was for the wrong person to get a hint of something juicy, and it’d be the talk of the town by morning with zero regard for whoever was involved.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” he asked after a beat of silence.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say no, to try and change the subject, but I didn’t. I wasn’t sure whether it was because I didn’t trust my words or because I was curious about what he wanted to know, but I nodded. “Sure.”
The wooden picnic table groaned as he shifted his weight and fully faced me. “Why do you live here when you could live anywhere in the world?”
“I can? I didn’t know that.” My lips twitched, waiting for the punch line to a joke that never came. When he raised his brows in question, I blinked. “Oh, you’re serious?”
There wasn’t a hint of amusement on his face, but I also saw zero judgment as he said, “Well, yeah. I’m just trying to understand.”
Before this moment, I’d been aware that Beckett and I came from two different worlds, but it’d never been more apparent than in the conversation we were currently having. “It’s my home.”
He chuckled. “I have a home, too, Sawyer. But I chose it. I bought it. I—”
I shook my head. “No, you don’t understand. I’m not talking about the four walls I live in. I’m talking about the place itself. I’m sure Pinecrest doesn’t look like much to someone who grew up seeing all the wonders the world could offer, but this is all I’ve ever known.”
Small town life came with its fair share of complications, but I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. I wasn’t sure if that was my own naivety or just the reality of my situation.
Despite the flashing lights from the rides and booths, I could still see the faint glow of Main Street in the distance. It’d be quiet this time of night. Completely silent save for the occasional sound of tires against crumbling asphalt or the buzz of bugs in the trees.
“You’ve never wanted to leave?” he asked.
I shook my head, trying to figure out how much honesty I should give him.
It wasn’t like I owed him any explanation other than what I’d already given, but there was something about him, or this bubble we trapped ourselves in, that had me speaking again.
“Even if I did, leaving isn’t that easy.
There are people who rely on me. People who have given me more generosity and kindness than I deserve.
I couldn’t walk away from that. Besides, I don’t have any lofty aspirations.
I’m just putting one foot in front of the other to get to the end of the day. ”
He rapped his knuckles once, twice, three times on the warped wood, looking around the fair grounds.
Beckett probably thought I was crazy for not wanting to leave.
Hell, maybe I was. But even if I could leave, I didn’t know where I’d go.
Pinecrest had always been my home. People born here usually died here. That was just the way it was.