A/N: Because nobody can ever have enough Chrashley oneshots! It's also quite a long one! Longer than I usually write so ENJOY!
Disclaimer: The percentages within this oneshots are entirely plucked out of my brain and not mathematically accurate :P Don't put either of them as an answer to a maths exam question.
"No one's ever won me anything before." Her words span through Chris' mind like a helter skelter. They had been hummed from her cotton candy lips while the two of them had spent a friendly day out at the amusement park months and months ago. From the benches opposite the shooting galleries, her pistachio eyes had peered longingly at a huge, silky teddy bear being clamped in the excited arms of another girl. Another girl who'd won another bear from another boy.
The sweet scent of Ashley's yearning was almost palpable as she'd sighed, her longing too heavy for her as her head had lolled to the side, locks of glossy, auburn hair caressing down her shoulder.
It had taken everything in Chris to stop himself from bounding up from that bench, marching across to the shooting range and blasting down one of those bears for himself.
Chris bit into the soft flesh of his bottom lip, focusing on getting the right angle as he sketched yet another line.
"Aaaand," he uttered under his breath, the charcoal flicking at the end as he finished the length of the curve. The crisp paper crinkled as he shuffled his elbows on it. A grin triumphantly erupted on his face as he leaned back in his chair to survey his work. The pencil clattered against his desk as he dropped it victoriously – Drop the Mic! "Done!"
Perfect. It would be perfect. His hours had been spent scouring the internet for every single possible nugget of information about claw machines. He'd done the maths. He would be 15.6% more likely to succeed in a claw machine than one of those con booths. And, with appropriate research, he'd increase that percentage to 42.3%. He'd analysed the positioning that the claw needed to be relative to the size of the desired plushy; the perfect angle; the way to spin the claw to get the best leverage. He'd written a comprehensive essay on how to differentiate between the achievable prizes and those that were money eaters. The Time Magazine would totally publish it next month. Riveting stuff.
Chris rubbed his charcoal smeared fingers together, the scent smoky and gritty as he bubbled in equal parts excitement and nervousness. Well, to be more precise, it was more like 43% to 52%. The other 5% of him really needed to get a club sandwich.
To anyone else, the huge sheet of graph paper spread out in front of Chris would look like a mess of scribbles and the equation of a child plus tantrum and a pencil. But to Chris, through the lenses of his black rimmed glasses, it made complete sense. He could point out each measurement – he'd sketched out the size of each possible claw, how wide it could stretch out, how tight it could clamp. The weight of different plushes in comparison with the amount that the claw could carry. Every single detail had meaning to it. He'd figured it all out. It was foolproof. This was purely and simply a highway to success.
He could do this. He would do this.
He had to do this.
It was their first date.
Chris inhaled, his breath shaking again at the thought. He had to make a good impression. The feeling was engrained in the prints on the tips of his fingers. Entwined in his eyelashes. In the Ferris Wheel of his heart. For months – years – he'd looked at Ashley through steamed lenses, stupidly daydreaming about this day. He'd sweep her off her feet as she cooed about how much she'd waited for this day too. It would go so smoothly, like silky chocolate down flumes. He would have nothing to worry about, confidence bounding in his muscles, in the arms that would hold her, in the lips that would kiss her-
But, in reality, things were different. Instead of confidence, it was nervousness rattling inside his skin. Instead of smoothness, it would be clunky and chunky. Awkward.
He refused to let that happen.
Taking in a deep breath, he remembered Sam's words. 'Chris, you were willing to die for her. You've already impressed her enough for a lifetime'. He tried to breathe in the words, to soak in the taste. The fluttery, feathery feeling that danced across his skin. Ashley must know how he felt about her. She must know he was nervous.
He chuckled under his breath. She was probably as nervous as he was. They could clunkily get through the date together.
And she would smile her brightest when he could finally pick one of those teddy bears and place it right in her palms.
With a burst of pride, Chris leaned back in his chair, the plastic creaking under his weight as his shoulders relaxed, success glinting in his eyes. This was going to be epic. Ashley would never need to long for anyone else to ever win her a prize ever again.
A smile of reassurance tugged at his lips. He really had nothing to worry about.
Now... where was his club sandwich?
She had everything to worry about.
"Does this look okay?" Ashley paced in front of the full length mirror again, lines of worry creasing her forehead. Sam sat cross-armed on Ashley's bed looking highly unimpressed. The bed springs creaked as Sam pushed herself to her feet, her shoes clicking against floorboards as she paced over to Ashley.
"Not with these," Sam poked Ashley's wrinkles on her forehead with raised eyebrows.
Ashley whined, batting Sam's hand away, before hooking her hands at her waist and staring hopelessly at herself in the mirror. It had taken an hour to pick out just one outfit and even then it didn't look quite right. It was either 'trying too hard' or 'not trying hard enough'. It was tugging at her heart, dragging her down. Her feet felt heavy, her eyes raw from staring at the clock every five minutes, discovering that it was getting closer and closer to when she was supposed to be meeting up with Chris.
Every second birthed another wave of nerves in her stomach. She nibbled at the flesh of her bottom lip, remembering the ghostly feeling of Chris' lips against hers. It felt like a decade ago since she'd kissed him. Everything was a haze, surrounded by panic and fear over maniacs and wendigos. And she'd just done it. She'd watched him place a gun to his chin, pulling the trigger. She'd seen him steal enough courage to go and find his best friend. And she'd been soaked with worry, with anxiety over his safety.
And she'd just done it.
Ashley wished she could feel that effortless need again. She wished she could just close her eyes, snatch the courage and do it. Feel the breezy, easy breath of this date. But uneasiness still tapped at her fingertips, shaking her hands, shivering in her heart
Sam plonked her hands on Ashley's shoulders and dragged her around, away from the snatching, dangerous gaze of the mirror. Ashley found herself, instead, under the scrutinising gaze of Sam. It was heavy and strong, making a point. Ashley wanted to recoil, to duck and pluck Sam's pinching hands from her shoulders. Instead, she offered her friend an unconvincing, sheepish smile. Sam wasn't even the slightest bit affected by it.
"Ash," Sam sighed, her lips tight before they tug up into a reassuring smile. "You have nothing to worry about. Seriously," Sam laughed, shaking her head and releasing Ashley from her firm grip. Ashley exhaled in relief.
"Chris would think you were stunning in a black bag, for heaven's sake!" Sam tutted, grinning and patting Ashley playfully on the head. Ashley cringed, wrinkling up her nose before shoving Sam away, who proceeded to let out a loud laugh.
In one swift movement, Sam had snatched Ashley's jacket off the desk chair, and thrown it towards the other. Ashley's eyes snapped wide open and she cringed as she grabbed the jacket in her hands just before it hit her face.
"Go!" Sam urged Ashley, practically shoving her out of the room. Ashley wanted to fight back, to curl back into her room. To have one more minute. She wasn't ready. She needed time. She needed a minute to breathe.
In fact, she needed time to stop altogether.
But she was aware that Sam knew; if Ashley didn't go now, she'd never be ready.
So, with as much courage as she could breathe in, Ashley bit her lip, her fingers shaking, and she went.
Her imagination was going wild.
What if he didn't turn up? What if she was late and kept him waiting? What if he was abducted by aliens?
Okay, that last one was ridiculous. Aliens? Who even believed in those anyway?
Then again, who ever thought wendigos were real.
Ashley breathed, quelling her shivering fingers by shoving them into the thick pockets of her jacket. The amusement park was bustling around her as she paced through it, avoiding chewing gum and the remains of burst balloons littering the paving stones. People swirled around her like a whirlpool, kids cheering and parents trying to calm them down before they ran off.
Ashley turned her lips up in a smile, practising the one she'd show him when she saw him. 'Hi Chris!' She'd call, waving her hand up in the hair. 'I've been waiting for you!' No, that sounded weird. 'Hey, Chris!'. No. Too casual. 'Chris! Hi! It's good to see you!' Too formal-
"Ash," a voice breathed down her neck. Her skin prickled instantly.
She jerked, her reflexes whipping her around, almost karate chopping him in the face.
"Chris," Ashley squeaked, her cheeks bursting in flame. Her eyes widened in shock, her smile no longer appealing but jagged. She wanted to cover her face. She wanted to jump in one of the huge trash bins and shelter herself in banana skins and soda cans.
He stood there effortlessly with his hands stuffed in his pockets, a crooked smile on his lips. His blonde hair was tousled, his black rimmed glasses framing his friendly, blue eyes. Against the wild, bubbling backdrop of the fair - flags and balloons tangled around poles and dancing in the breeze, between the cries of joy and squeals of exhilaration – Chris looked vibrant. And he looked gorgeous. Ugh! Why did he always have to show her up?
"Hey," he shrugged, looking as easy as water. As easy as smooth milk. Like fluid coffee, warm and wafting and inviting.
His eyes crinkled at the corners, his teeth nibbling at his bottom lip as he cocked his head, watching Ashley. Like he was waiting for her to say something.
She let out a breath, realising that she'd just done the most awkward thing should could have. She'd left him just standing there, without saying a word. Just staring. Her eyes had been locked on him, studying every ruffle of his clothing – he'd brushed up pretty well, by the way – each wave of his hair, the twinkle in his eyes.
And he'd just been standing there, hoping she still had a voice.
No, I haven't come into contact with Ursula recently.
And just to prove that point, Ashley threw a smile on her lips before charging a skip into her step. "Let's go!" She cheered, trying to ignore the nerves nibbling at her from the inside out. And, as if it were instinct, she hooked her hand around his wrist and, tugging him along to the nearest roller-coaster, Ashley plunged into the unknown.
Chris did not feel easy at all. His heart was hammering in his chest. He was convinced it had decided to redecorate its house and start hanging up pictures – drilling in holes and hammering in nails.
He could feel the pulse of Ashley's body heat through the area where her fingers were wrapped around his wrist. It didn't matter how many layers of clothing he could be wearing, he knew he'd still be able to feel it. Sometimes, when he glanced down at her, he had to remember to breathe. His breath had a tendency of getting caught and tangled in her red hair, in the fluttery nets of her eyelashes. He had to tug it free more times than once.
"What should we do first?" Ashley sung, appearing a lot more at ease than Chris felt.
He shrugged. It was the easiest response. Like a default, like returning the hard drive to factory settings. He almost swore at himself, shooting electricity through his wiring. He hadn't come here to be old Chris again, too afraid to tell Ashley his feelings. He wanted to be the new and improved Chris, the upgraded version. The 2.0.
So, with a breath and a stealing of courage, Chris tugged his hand just enough so that Ashley's fingers release from around his wrist. And he swiftly captured her hand in his.
Instantly, he felt her stiffen beside him and, for a second, Chris panicked. Blood rushed to his head. Had he done something wrong? Had he gone too fast?
But then, with only two breaths, she had relaxed. Melting like marshmallows and milkshake. Smooth and flexible. He smiled, loving the warm feeling of her soft skin against his – and the way her fingers ever so slightly tightened around his. Like she didn't want to let go. Like she wanted to hold onto the feeling too.
Chris felt his eyes glint as he focused on the soaring rollercoaster above their heads. Screams swept across the sky as the carts shooted along twisting, looping tracks, metal grinding against metal. An effortless grin crept up his face, his fingers twitching in Ashley's hand, squeezing. The claw could wait till later. That would be his final act. Right now, he had other plans.
Chris felt Ashley's eyes dart up to him, piercing and curious and anxious. Instead, he met her gaze with a courageous one of his own, licking his bottom lip mischievously. "Dare you?"
Ashley squealed, gripping onto the harness of the rollercoaster, her knuckles turning white. She heard Chris' bark of laughter beside her, his eyes grinning as he stared at her gritted teeth and scrunched up face. She pouted, wanting to slap him on the shoulder to tell him to behave. But she was too terrified that, if she dropped the harness, she'd plummet to the ground in a spat. Fear had no rationality.
Instead, she settled with the knowledge that Chris' grin would be wiped off his face in a second, as soon as the rollercoaster reached the peak of the first slope.
Of course she'd had to take him up on his dare. She'd never let herself off with it if she'd refused – and she was sure Chris wouldn't either. He had a habit of teasing her for things like that.
And she wasn't void of a competitive streak. Chris and her had had a few challenges in the past, passed across school dinner tables and library corners. She could vividly remember the day Chris had gripped the burger in his two fists, a matching one in Ashley's, and had cockily licked his lips. He'd grinned at her competitively, narrowing his eyes, ready for Josh to click the stop watch to begin.
Ashley had, of course, taken into account that the probabilities of her winning an eating competition against Chris was highly unlikely. Probably about a 1 to 10,000 chance. And she most likely wouldn't look entirely attractive while doing it. But she had found out that it was very hard for her to say no to Chris.
Yet, no matter how confident he looked – and how sure she was that he would win – as soon as Chris had taken a bite out of the burger, his eyes had burst into flames, his cheeks burning, and his tongue had instantly spat it out. In panic, his eyes flashed to Josh accusingly, before Chris had lunged for the nearest water bottle – which had turned out to be halfway across the school. They could hear his cries of "Sabotage!" trailing behind him as he ran.
Josh had simply, smugly grinned, with that signature cocky shrug of his shoulders, and said, "Chilli powder."
Ashley had laughed at that, the slightest hint of worry for Chris' tongue tugging at the back of her mind – of course she'd never offer to sooth it. She wasn't confident enough to do that. She'd leave the blatant flirting to Jessica.
After that, she'd been able to leisurely nibble away at the burger, accompanied by a series of accomplished giggles.
This time, though, was different. Ashley wasn't good with rollercoasters. She wasn't really great with anything that was supposed to be fear-inducing; ghosts, crazy maniacs, insane, cannibalistic creatures roaming mountains. She wasn't good with any of it.
Digging her nails into the leather of the harness, Ashley squeezed her eyes shut. She blocked out the sounds of Chris' laughter, focusing on her breathing and how many creases she could feel on her face. She had to do this. She was determined to do this. She would have to do thi-
A scream ripped her words out of her mouth as the rollercoaster tumbled over the peak and speeded down the track. Wind rushed through her ears, whipping at her hair, rushing past her skin. It burned – but with excitement.
She braved herself to open her eyes, catching a glimpse of Chris who was screaming as well. Though his was accompanied by shouts of joy and exhilaration, a huge grin on his face. So much for that being wiped off.
He looked at her. Her racing heart stopped. He seemed so alive; his hair wild and untamed, eyes wide and excited, mouth eager with a smile. The screams of other passengers were distant, swallowed up by the rushing winds, as she watched him. So pleased to have him with her. So pleased he wasn't an imagination. So pleased they weren't just here as friends.
Something flickered across Chris' eyes, and, for a second, his face creased. Ashley was about to ask him if he was okay but a sharp loop made her grimace and tighten her hold on the harness again.
The drumming of Chris' chuckle, deep and misty from the rushing wind. And then he opened his mouth. And with a breath, shouted something at her. Ashley's breath caught, Chris' mouth wide with a grin. He looked so hopeful as he watched her, her red hair tangling around her head, catching on her eyelashes, sticking to her lip gloss.
"What?!" She shouted back. The wind was too loud. It was too wild, screams mingled in with it. She hadn't heard him.
Chris just simply, content as he was, shrugged heartily and returned his gaze to the track, whooping out in excitement.
Ashley felt a sickeningly hollow feeling sinking to the bottom of her stomach – a feeling that whatever he'd said was important. That she shouldn't have missed it.
Ashley swayed as her weak legs climbed off the rollercoaster cart, tumbling onto the station. "Are you okay?" Chris laughed, catching her just before she hit the concrete floor.
"Yeah," Ashley drowsily slurred, trying to catch her head before it fell off. She felt woozy, dizzy. Her head was pounding from the blood that had rushed into it, her limbs shaking from lack of energy.
She could hear the rhythm of Chris' chuckle and she wanted to snap at him that this was his fault. He had forced her to do this. It would be his fault too if she ended up spewing all over his front.
But the way he guided her carefully to the nearest bench, one hand holding hers, the other cupped around her back, made her quickly forgive him.
"Do you need anything?" he peered at her as she found comfort in the sturdy, wooden surface of the bench. Her fingers gripped around the boards of wood, feeling their rough, intricate grains and the reassuring, pieces of chewing gum stuck to their under layers. Ashley never thought she'd ever say she'd be pleased to feel those. But this time, they assured her she was safe on the ground and not on a high-flying, spew-inducing rollercoaster machine.
"Water? Soup?" Chris looked the tiniest bit anxious as he crouched in front of her. And Ashley narrowed her eyes at him, almost convinced he was about to press his palm to her forehead, bring out a stethoscope and check her heart rate.
"I'm okay," Ashley assured him, taking in a deep breath and closing her eyes so that they would stop spinning. "Just. Need. Oxygen."
A low chuckle vibrated from Chris' chest, accompanied by a murmured, "I'll give you some of mine?" But before Ashley could flash her eyes open, Chris had already coughed it away and pretended that it had never been said. A blush spread up her cheeks, a smirk tinting her lips.
She wouldn't mind that either.
A sickening feeling swept up into Ashley's cheeks and she inhaled sharply before swinging her head down between her knees and slowly rubbing her temples with her fingers rhythmically.
Chris' movements were jagged but Ashley heard the rustling of his clothes as he shifted to sit beside her on the bench. For a moment she thought he wasn't going to do anything, her hands too focused on relaxing her head, her body too zoned in on breathing. And then she felt Chris' hand clunkily rest on her back and awkwardly try to soothingly caress it. The touch was tender and tentative. And warm. Her cheeks burst into flames, thankful that her hair was now tumbling over her face as he couldn't see it as it was hidden between her knees-
Crap. She had literally just stuck her head between her knees in front of the guy she was pretty much crazy about. On their first date. Was anything more unattractive. Crap.
Ashley whipped her head up, her cheeks burning as she tried to calm them down with her palms. Blood rushed into her head, the movement too swift, making her dizzy.
"Are you alright?" Chris asked cautiously, his hand having dipped away from her back. She kind of missed its warmth.
"Yeah," Ashley tried her best to smile, glancing in Chris' direction. But as soon as she did, her cheeks were flushing bright again and she wanted to hide away again. She could swear, with her red hair to boot, she looked like the prize entry for the worlds best tomato competition.
"I'm sorry," Chris added awkwardly, sounding less distracted by her flaming red cheeks as she was. Ashley, with a sigh of relief, let herself calm down. Just a little. Just enough that she could pretend she wasn't as red as the surface of Mars. "I shouldn't have got you to go on that. I didn't know you were-"
"It's alright," Ashley proclaimed, cutting him off. He glanced at her, startled, but she offered him a reasonably tranquil smile. "At least it wasn't the Haunted House or anything." They'd both had enough of those; of creepy lodges, fake ghosts and crazy maniacs. They both wanted to forget any of that ever happened.
Chris look thoughtful for a moment, the bustling sounds of other rollercoaster passengers and cheerful kids swirled around him. Then, perking up to his feet, he proudly offered out his hand with a mischievous, single lifted eyebrow. "Come with me. I've got an idea."
Chris adjusted the shotgun against his shoulder, his clammy palms gripping the barrel as he honed in on the target.
"Just three targets," the man behind the stall droned, his eyelids drooping like he'd said the exact same thing about fifty times that day already. He probably had. "You just need to knock over three targets. Then any prize is yours!" The enthusiasm dripping off his words couldn't be more fake.
"I got this," Chris smirked, taking a glance at Ashley to his side, who had adopted a cross-armed, playful, unimpressed look. He chuckled. Of course he knew the probability of him actually hitting three targets was lower than a monkey-eating, vending machine became president of the U.S of A. But his ego couldn't help but try.
Besides, he knew he'd be able to win her something later. There wasn't any harm in teasing and toying with her now. It would make his win later on all that more impressive.
Right?
"H'okay," Chris breathed along the barrel of the gun, the condensation of his breath dancing along the shiny, black metal. He swallowed, narrowing his eyes as he aimed towards the first bottle behind the stall. An easy target. His finger twitched on the trigger, his teeth biting his bottom lip for concentration. He could feel his breath pulsing in his ears, the only solid sound he could focus on, like a constant throbbing, zoning him in. With one eye closed, he carefully steadied the barrel, aiming it directly at the body of the bottle. And, with a steady tug on a the trigger... water squirted out the end of the gun, slapping against the bottle and toppling it over with a clink.
A huge grin spread across Chris' face as he sent Ashley a teasing, wiggled eyebrow look. She simply snorted, her own lips accommodated by a smirk. But he could see the faint flicker of hope in her eyes, that Chris might actually be able to do this. Her gaze kept flicking up to the array of teddy bears stacked on the top shelves. And he could almost hear her breath shudder, allowing herself to hope just that little bit.
Chris swallowed. It was all rigged. Not even a skilled gunman could win this, not without a huge dollop of luck. Chris kept telling himself that, kept convincing himself of that fact. He'd researched it. He was so sure it was hopeless. Yet he kept shrugging uncomfortably, like there was an unwanted weight on his shoulders. And his hands, clammy and shuffling, gripped harder onto the gun, his concentration narrowing onto the next target.
With a steady gaze, his finger twitched on the trigger. Water sprayed out of the gun, smacking and clattering over the next target. There was a wave of cheers, whooping from nearby watchers; but not from Chris. Not from Ashley. Chris' mouth, instead, was filled with anxiety. With determination. It felt like the size of a tennis ball.
It wasn't hard to look at her. He did it on a regular basis, almost automatically. But this time it felt heavier. This time, she'd unfolded her arms, and her fingers were gripping onto the stall's wooden counter. Leaning forward ever so slightly, hope holding her up. Chris knew it - she was allowing herself to believe it was possible. That, instead of it being another girl - another bear, another boy - this time it would be her.
Chris felt the pressure like nails digging into his shoulder blades. He was no longer smiling, his muscles tensing as he readjusted the gun against his shoulder. His breath shuddered. Focus, Chris. Focus.
There was an overwhelming feeling sinking to the pit of Chris' stomach - no, it was everywhere. In his hair, his fingertips, his heart - that he needed to do this for her. A huge chunk of him desperately wanted to see her smile, her eyes lighting up, her eyes wrapping around the soft folds of a huge teddy bear - and if he could gift that to her... well, he'd be smiling too.
Chris felt his bottom lip quiver against the metal of the gun as he peered through the aiming tube. There was always exceptions. A majority wasn't always unanimous. He had a chance. Whether if it was slim or not, it was still a chance. There was still a minority. He could be that minority.
With as much confidence as he could muster, the muscles in his back tensed, Chris squeezed down the trigger as if his whole life depended on it.
"Ooooh," the man behind the counter droned, mocking disappointment. "Bad luck." He slapped another ticket on the counter top and stared lazily at Chris. "Wanna try again?"
Chris' shoulders slumped. His throat ran dry as he swallowed, feeling the energy drain from his arms as he pulled the shotgun from his shoulder and clattered it back on the table. The last bottle still stood there, staring defiantly back at him. Not even shoved an inch. Smug. Smirking. Like it had won.
Bottle 1, Chris 0.
Weakly, he shook his head, "No thanks."
"At least you tried," Ashley offered beside him, and he felt the warmth of her hand looping around his bicep.
It didn't feel like enough. Regret dragged him down, feeling like an immovable lump in his stomach. For a second there, he'd allowed himself to hope. He'd gotten caught up in the game. He wanted to swear.
And Ashley... Although disappointment lingered on her eyelashes, she lifted herself up and smiled, shaking it off. Chris knew, just for that one thing, that Ashley deserved everything he could give her.
It only took seconds for him to be even more determined that his plan would succeed.
"Shall we," Ashley slowly suggested, and it was obviously that she was trying to find words to finish that sentence, "Go get something to eat?"
Chris smirked, feeling confidence building up in him like a waterfall. His hand took hers from around his arm and he squeezed it excitedly. He could feel the bashful heat rise up her skin, the hopeful fluttering of eyelashes, and it energised him. "I've got a better idea."
Chris cupped the machine's joystick in his palm, feeling the weight of it, measuring how much a sharp movement would jolt the claw. This was it. The limbs of the machine felt so comfortable in his hands, familiar, like he'd always known them. Like they were a part of him. The worn leather was warm, comforting, and he carefully slid a coin into the slot.
The machine burst into life, carnival music blasting through it. For a second, Chris could have sworn that it was vibrating.
"What are we doing here?" Ashley breathed cautiously, hovering at his side. But Chris knew she could tell. She was reluctant but she was hopeful. Admiring.
"I'm gonna get you one of these," Chris said proudly, getting used to the shuddering movement of the claw as he directed it around, inside the glass box. From one glance, Chris could tell it was a reasonable sized claw, one that could give him enough grip on a big enough plushie. He tested the strength of it, satisfied with it's firm enough grip. He could work with this. He knew how to work with any option he was given. "Which one do you want?"
Ashley peered inside and Chris was almost certain he could hear her heart drumming. "The squirrel," she cooed, her voice sounding excited as she pointed at a large, fluffy squirrel with a purple tail and nose to match.
"Squirrel it is," Chris declared, angling the claw over it. Playfully and teasingly, he added under his breath, "Lucky guy."
Ashley giggled beside him as Chris honed in on the plushie, making sure the claw was directly above it, at the perfect, mathematical angle. And, with a press of the button, it plunged.
"Chris," Ashley sighed for about the seventeenth time. Her voice was pleading as she watched Chris grip his hands even more on the joystick and buttons of this wretched machine. So much so that his veins could have easily exploded out of his skin, they were so tense.
Chris let out a low, frustrated growl as the claw dropped another plushie. He'd obviously stopped caring about which one he could grab – as long as he could grab any of them. Ashley's legs were straining to be standing up beside him for this long. She suspected that it wasn't motivation anymore that kept tugging Chris to put in another coin into the machine but, instead, his ego.
It made Ashley shuffle uncomfortably on her feet.
"Chris, maybe we should go somewhere else-?"
"Why isn't it working?!" Chris' voice broke , slamming his fists on the machine. The veins in his neck were taut, like tight ropes underneath his skin, threatening to rip through his flesh.
Ashley glanced around desperately, hoping nobody had caught sight of them. She couldn't help but feel a tinge of embarrassment, like she was with a child having a tantrum. As much as she cared about Chris, it was easy to wish she wasn't with him right at that moment.
"Maybe we should go get some cotton candy?"
He wasn't listening to her. His eyes were strained, staring at the claw, his teeth gritting.
"We could try another rollercoaster?" She knew she was going insane if she was offering that.
Nothing. He didn't even flinch. Just pushed in another coin in and that infuriating music burst into life again. She was panicking. She hated seeing Chris like this, so anxious and angry and frustrated. He was teetering on the edge of breaking. He had meant so well. She'd felt it in his ambition, had seen it in his hopeful, confident eyes.
And she was sure he felt like he'd just plummeted to the ground with a crack.
Chris' lips were curled inwards, his face straining and Ashley swore she saw a tear forced out of the corner of his eye.
A wave of panic pushed her forward. She felt herself gripping onto Chris' bicep, feeling the tight muscle underneath. It was hot and bubbling with strain. Ashley let out a puff of air, feeling forlorn and hopeless as she looked at him. How she wished she could release this pressure inside of him.
"Chris, please," Ashley murmured, trying to reach out to him, to pull his attention away.
And, finally, he looked at her.
As soon as he did, his eyes widened and, as if on instinct, his hands flung back from the machine and he stumbled away. Realising. Defeated.
Chris felt like his limbs had been ripped from him all at once. He'd been attached to that claw machine for too longer. The metal, the leather, the glass had started to mold into his skin. And his flesh felt raw, torn off. Red.
"Sorry," he whispered, looking into the huge, endless pools of Ashley's eyes. What had he done? He'd been too caught up, smothered in a daze. He'd forgotten she was there, his mind only focused on winning one, frickin toy! He'd had it all figured out. He was so sure it would go effortlessly. There was nothing he had to worry about. The maths did the talking.
And, yet, this time they didn't.
Ashley's eyes did. And they looked desperately sad.
"It's okay," she offered with a smile he definitely didn't deserve at that moment.
Chris shook his head, his face drooping as he tucked his chin against his neck. "No, it's not," he choked, lacking the strength to look her in the eye. "I just- I just wanted to win you something."
The truth swelled out of him as he said the words. That was where this had been birthed. His want – his need – to make Ashley happy. To impress her. To make her smile.
And it had all backfired.
A soft giggle shocked his ears. He glanced up in surprise to see a smile dancing on Ashley's lips, her head cocked to the side in amusement. "I know," her eyes smiled as she took a step forward and Chris was finding it hard to breathe. He swallowed to try and recover it just as Ashley stole it again, slipping her soft fingers into his.
"You're a winner!"
Chris snapped his eyes back to the machine in shock, catching the sight of the claw drop something down the prize shoot. His breath caught. What? Had he just won without even trying?
A low rumble of a chuckle broke through Chris' voice. How ironic.
Ashley cheered with delight as she dropped Chris' hands and crouched down to pull whatever it was out of the prize shoot.
Holy hell. That was the ugliest thing he'd ever seen. The plushie Ashley pulled out looked like the birth child of a straggly bear and a troll. It had a repulsive, plastic face – the thing of nightmares – and tufted, bright yellow hair. Like banana fluff. He grimaced. For a second, he thought he'd redeemed himself there.
But Ashley still clutched it to her chest, a grin pulled effortlessly across her cheeks.
"Are you sure you want that?" Chris asked dubiously, jabbing his thumb towards the nearest trash can. "I could put in the bin?"
Ashley mock gasped, looking like that was the worst thing he could have said. With a shake of his head, Chris laughed. Ashley kept on surprising him.
"Of course not!" Ashley protested, before she closed the gap between them. Chris' skin almost shivered as he felt her breath so close to his, her fingertips grazing against the back of one of his hands. Chris had to strain himself not to wrap his arms around her right then. Her eyelids drooped, her eyelashes flickering. Chris' breath caught in his throat, suddenly aware of every detail on Ashley's skin. Each freckle on her cheeks, the strands of hair that swayed across her forehead. The glossy, shimmering of her lips.
"You won it for me," Ashley smiled. So hopeful. So happy. Everything he wanted her to be.
Instinctively, Chris licked his own lips, desperately wanting to lean forward and kiss her.
But Ashley bet him to it.
Chris' breath froze as her warm lips met his. For a second, he forgot to close his eyes, feeling the throbbing of her heartbeat in the heat of her skin. In the tingling of their meeting lips.
And then he leaned into it, gently, capturing her free hand in his, her body just inches from his. Her hair brushing against the skin on his cheeks. His hand reaching up to cup hers.
They moved slowly, like they were both learning. They were both learning.
But that was the beauty of it.
Chris let a laugh brush against her lips, feeling the new plushie pressed between them. He did hate a third wheel.
Ashley's smile was as gleeful as his as she pressed it against his lips. Her lips on his was like the fluttering of dainty, fairy wings. The most delicate of kisses. Just enough. Just everything.
Chris couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as soon as she pulled back.
"Well, that was a surprise," he chuckled, not daring to break her teasing gaze.
She bit her lip, her cheeks rosy with contentment. "It shouldn't be."
Ashley couldn't help but feel a flourishing sense of fulfilment blooming in her chest. She couldn't stop smiling. Every inch of her skin was tingling. Especially the inches were Chris' hands were touching. Holding hers. Pulling her close.
She wanted to break out in a huge grin, to scream to the world that this was the best day! It was pretty much the best setting for it too, soaring in the sky in the Ferris Wheel, gazing out at the whole world below their feet. The whole fair was painted in the watercolours of a setting sun; purples and pinks and yellows and reds. She felt like she was soaking in them, her head leaned against the glass and gazing out at it all.
But nothing would make her feel as good as Chris did right now. His hand holding hers, his body close to hers. Warm, comforting, inviting. Home.
Of course, her new found prize sat beside her, looking smug and the most unattractive plushie she'd ever owned. Not that she cared. It held more memories in its fabric than anything else she'd ever owned.
Ashley jerked her head up. Startled, Chris glanced to her, worry striking his face. She'd almost forgotten.
"What did you say? On the rollercoaster?" Ashley asked, feeling a new sense of confidence building in her. She squeezed his hand, reassuring herself that he was there. That she had no reason to be worried anymore.
Looking slightly surprised at the question, Chris shrugged awkwardly, though his smile was calm. Then he murmured, "I said I really like you."
Ashley's smile was the widest it had ever been.
"I like you too," she practically giggled. She was surprised she could even get the words out.
Chris grinned, his warm eyes soaking her in. "I think that's pretty obvious."
She giggled, pressing her forehead against his, both their cheeks as wide as they'd ever been. She almost bumped her nose against his glasses and they'd laughed, his free hand reaching up to straighten them. And then, with contentment settling into her body, into the very fabric of her, Ashley rested her head against his shoulder, the smile never leaving.
This. This was happiness.
And she was a winner.