7 #3
His hand moved from my wrist to the side of my face while mine caught the front of his shirt. The kiss stayed brief enough to remain decent, although the slow pass of his thumb over my cheek afterward felt considerably less innocent.
A whistle came from somewhere behind us.
I stiffened automatically.
Ryan didn’t even look toward it. His eyes stayed on mine, but his expression sharpened when he felt my body change beneath his hand.
“You were throwing something,” he reminded me.
I blinked. “What?”
He lifted the ring still trapped between my fingers.
“Oh.”
His smile returned, though something more watchful remained in his eyes. “Distracted?”
“Shut up.”
I threw the ring, and it dropped cleanly over the neck of a bottle.
Ryan stared at the ring while I stared at him.
The booth operator laughed. “You’ve got one.”
I turned toward Ryan with both hands lifting in victory. “Professional athlete.”
He caught me around the waist before I got any farther and kissed me again.
“That was luck.”
“That sounded insecure.”
“I’m deeply threatened.”
“Good.”
We spent the next half hour turning carnival games into an increasingly stupid competition.
I beat him at ring toss. Ryan demolished me at a water-gun race against six children and celebrated with enough enthusiasm that the father beside us laughed.
I accused him of having no dignity, and he said dignity didn’t come with prizes.
Then we reached the milk bottles.
Ryan paid for three baseballs and missed the first throw badly enough that I stared at him. He looked at the bottles, then the ball on the ground, before slowly turning toward me.
“You say one fucking word.”
“I’m trying to process what I witnessed.”
“I play hockey.”
“You throw things with your hands every day.”
“Pucks are not baseballs.”
“You throw hockey pucks?”
“Sometimes.”
“This defense is deteriorating.”
The teenage guy running the booth laughed.
Ryan pointed at him. “You stay out of this.”
The guy lifted both hands while I folded my arms.
“Take your second throw, athlete.”
Ryan turned slowly. “You’re getting cocky.”
“Professor Brown encouraged it.”
His second throw hit hard enough to knock two bottles over and leave the rest standing.
I winced. “You were so close.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m supporting you.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.”
By the time Ryan finally knocked the entire stack backward, he had purchased enough attempts to fund part of the carnival’s electricity bill.
The booth attendant gestured toward the wall of prizes. “What do you want?”
Ryan looked at me.
I tried not to look anywhere, but my eyes betrayed me. A ridiculous black-and-white panda hung near the top, almost as tall as I was.
Ryan followed my gaze, and his expression went flat. “No.”
I smiled. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You looked.”
“I admired.”
“That fucking thing is enormous.”
“I appreciate large-scale design.”
“You’re manipulating me.”
“I’m standing quietly.”
Ryan looked back at the attendant. “How many wins for the panda?”
“Three.”
Ryan sighed and pulled out his wallet.
I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. “You don’t have to do this.”
His head turned toward me. “You want it?”
“I think he’s cute.”
“Then I have to.”
“You genuinely don’t.”
Ryan handed over more money. “Go find us fries.”
“What?”
“Go.”
I stared at him until his dimple appeared.
“I’m about to protect my dignity. You don’t need to witness the process.”
I kissed his cheek before turning away. “Good luck, athlete.”
He smacked my ass lightly as I passed, and I spun around.
Ryan had already picked up another baseball.
“Did you just—”
“Fries, mi hada.”
I was still laughing when I reached the food stand.
By the time I returned, Ryan stood beside the booth holding the giant panda beneath one arm and looking offensively pleased with himself.
My smile appeared before I could contain it. “You actually won him.”
“You doubted me?”
“I watched the first seven attempts.”
“We don’t discuss the developmental phase.”
I set the fries on the counter and reached for the panda, but Ryan pulled it back.
“What?”
“You name him first.”
“That wasn’t part of the agreement.”
“There was an agreement?”
I looked at the stuffed animal. “He looks like a Walter.”
Ryan stared at me. “Walter?”
“He does.”
“That’s a middle-aged accountant.”
“Walter could contain multitudes.”
“You’ve learned too much literature.”
I held out my arms. “Give me Walter.”
Ryan tucked the panda against my chest, and the ridiculous thing nearly swallowed me.
He laughed. “You look happy.”
The teasing disappeared from his voice.
I looked down at the panda. “I am.”
Ryan touched my hair and smoothed one strand behind my ear. “You looked at him first.”
“I did.”
“So I wanted you to have him.”
My throat tightened unexpectedly. “That’s stupidly sweet.”
“Don’t ruin my image.”
“Nobody’s ever bought me a giant panda before.”
“That seems like a failure of the men around you.”
“Nobody’s ever noticed which prize I looked at.”
Ryan’s expression changed before he leaned down and kissed my forehead.
“I notice you.”
He said it all the time in different ways. He paid attention. He noticed me. He asked what I wanted and believed in me until I could catch up.
Each promise seemed to strike at a part of me nobody knew was wounded.
I shifted Walter to one arm and reached for Ryan with the other. His fingers immediately took mine.
We wandered deeper into the fair with the panda bouncing against my hip and Ryan pretending he regretted winning it every time the giant head smacked him. He bought fresh-cut fries even though I already had a basket because he decided mine had gone cold while he fought for Walter’s custody.
When I told him I wanted to try the fried Oreos, he ordered them without commenting when I ate only half of one. He finished the rest without looking at my plate or mentioning what I hadn’t eaten.
I loved him for things he didn’t even know he was doing.
The realization arrived so naturally that my steps slowed.
I loved him, or I was falling into some terrifying place close enough that arguing terminology felt pointless.
Ryan tugged gently on our joined hands. “What happened?”
“I was thinking.”
“That’s dangerous.”
I smiled and kept walking because the truth had arrived too quickly for me to trust it outside my own head.
A group of college-aged guys passed us in the opposite direction. One looked at me, then looked again.
Ryan’s hand left mine, but before I could process the loss, his arm settled around my shoulders and pulled me into his side.
I looked up at him while he continued watching ahead.
“Did you just territorialize me?”
“That isn’t a word.”
“It is now.”
His mouth twitched. “I was cold.”
“You’re wearing a T-shirt in August.”
“Sudden chill.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
He lowered his mouth to my temple. “And you like me.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Keep saying that.”
“Why?”
“Because your face says something else every time.”
My heart stumbled.
The closer we got to the rides, the more people I recognized. Two girls from design waved, and I waved back while Ryan’s arm remained around me. A guy from one of my electives called my name a moment later.
“Charm!”
I turned.
Evan stood beside three people from campus, holding a beer in one hand despite the fair technically not allowing alcohol outside the designated area.
“Hey.”
His gaze shifted to Ryan, and recognition registered immediately. “Ryan.”
Ryan nodded. “What’s up?”
Nothing about his tone was aggressive or rude. Still, his hand slid from my shoulder to my waist as Evan looked between us.
“You two together?”
My stomach tightened.
The question should’ve been easy. We were seeing what happened. We weren’t seeing anyone else. Ryan had taken me on a date and stood beside me with his hand around my waist.
The label wasn’t there, but that wasn’t what stopped me.
People were looking.
Evan knew people from design. People from design knew my family, or knew someone who knew them.
One picture, one careless comment, or one question passed to the wrong person could turn Ryan into something my parents expected me to explain before I had figured out how to protect what we were becoming.
My body hesitated before my mind made a decision.
Ryan felt it too.
His hand didn’t leave my waist, but his fingers went still. The warmth in his expression closed slightly, leaving something guarded behind his eyes.
I forced a smile. “We’re hanging out.”
The words sounded wrong immediately.
Ryan’s fingers flexed once against my side. A quiet hurt passed through his expression so quickly I might have convinced myself I imagined it if I hadn’t been watching him so closely.
Evan nodded like the answer made sense. “Cool. You guys have fun.”
“You too,” I said.
We kept walking.
Ryan didn’t say anything, and neither did I.
His hand remained at my waist, though the easy possession in it had changed.
He was still touching me because pulling away would mean something, and I knew him well enough to understand he wouldn’t punish me in public for an answer I had already started regretting.
The silence lasted long enough for my stomach to twist before he stopped at another game booth and looked down at me.
“You want to try this one?”
I stared at him.
He was giving me an exit from the moment without giving me an exit from him.
I looked toward the dart balloons. “Yeah.”
“Pick a color.”
“Pink.”
“Obviously.”
His mouth curved, but the smile didn’t fully reach his eyes.
The conversation disappeared beneath another competition, though the unease remained. Ryan continued acting almost exactly the same. He touched me, kissed me, bought me things I didn’t need, and held my hand whenever he could.
I had pulled back when someone asked what we were.
He noticed and didn’t punish me for it, but the small distance behind his eyes told me the moment hadn’t disappeared for him either.