"This is silly," Paris stated as Jess covered her eyes with his hands and walked behind her. But she wasn't going to complain about how it felt to feel him pressed up behind her and have him touching her. "Jess, you don't need to be so secretive. I can hear the screaming and the music. We must be in some sort of outdoor mall. What are they called? Flea Markets?"
"Oh man, you are so off," he stated with a laugh. "And a Flea Market?"
"Then please take your hands off my eyes."
"Okay, we're at there." He slowly removed his hands and she immediately opened her eyes.
"A carnival?" she asked standing at the entrance gate of one of those one-week, moving, caravan carnivals. She tried hard to avoid the brightly colored clown on stilts, trying to get her attention by talking in a goofy voice and making poodles with those weird long balloons. "You bought me to a carnival?"
"You sound surprised," Jess stated from beside her, pocketing his hands in his jeans. "And like you've never seen a carnival in person before."
Paris didn't meet his gaze when she answered. "I haven't."
His brows lifted in astonishment. "You've never been to a carnival?"
"No I haven't."
"Huh," he said, then shrugged and reached out for her hand. "Then it's a good thing I brought you here while we're still young enough to ride those roller coasters and not have a heart attack."
Relief soared through her because he didn't ask why she hadn't been to one before. Because I don't have times for carnivals and fun - would have been her trademark reply. She didn't want Jess to think she was a total loser. Tentatively she took his hand and then smiled when he twined their fingers together and pulled her into the noisy crowd. "Yeah, it's a good thing."
They weaved their way through the crowd and stopped in front of some rides and stalls, music blaring, people screaming and children laughing. Paris quelled the urge to put her hands over her ears. Jess grinned at her nervous expression and spoke loudly so she could hear him over the blaring music. "Pick a ride."
"What?" she asked looking around overwhelmed. "No, I wouldn't know which one."
"C'mon, just pick. Most of them are great."
She nodded and pointed to what looked like the most dizzying ride. "The Tilt-a-Whirl."
He pulled her towards the line, a huge grin on his face. "You're a wild child."
In a few minutes, they were securely buckled in and he was squeezing her hand in reassurance. Apprehension dawned on her as butterflies began to spread their wings in her stomach. Wide-eyed, she glanced sideways at him and narrowed her eyes. "If I die, I'm holding you responsible!"
"You're not going to die," he answered with a laugh. "You might feel a little funny in the head though. And you might have trouble walking in a straight line but as long as we don't have to pass any police, drunk driving test – you'll be fine."
Before she could retort the world started moving.
At first, things were just spinning slowly and she could see the people standing in line waiting smiling up at her, amusement in their eyes. She gripped the supporting safety bar on her shoulder and closed her eyes briefly. She felt the air whip around her and the screaming and shouts of laughter. Her stomach started churning and she opened her eyes again to find the faces were just a big blur of eyes and noses and wild hair.
A scream escaped her lips.
And despite the runaway train pounding through her system she managed to laugh. Then all at once, she was laughing and screaming and fighting the fuzzy feeling in her stomach and in her head.
Sooner than she would've liked, the ride started slowing down and her surroundings became clear again; colors solid and people recognizable. The safety bars lifted off her shoulders and she immediately glanced at Jess, who was grinning at her wildly – his hair tousled and his face flushed slightly.
She wanted to kiss him. She blamed the adrenaline.
Without saying a word, they exited the ride and ended up in the middle of the noise again. It was her turn to raise an expectant eyebrow. "So, it's your turn."
"Any preferences?"
"Something dizzy."
"I have just the thing," he answered and then pulled her through the multitude of people like an enthusiastic child, hyped up on too much sugar. She just followed holding in barely controlled laughter.
After a three other rides that were just as fast and fun as the first one, they went on the Tilt-a-Whirl once more before stopping for refreshments. He bought soda, a soft pretzel which he insisted that they eat with loads of mustard and cotton candy that kept sticking to the roof of her mouth and making her want to giggle like a little child.
As she took the final swig of her soda and threw it into a nearby trashcan, he was looking at her with that mischievous, sinful gleam in his eye. "What? You still want to sit on a rides?"
"Of course, we've only been on the dizzying rides."
She wiped the side of her mouth and looked around. "What else is fun?"
His lips curved into a wide smile and he reached for her hand again. "Bumper cars."
She linked her hand with his, still loving the feel of them clasped together, and smiled back. "I'm a very good driver."
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Paris grabbed his hand as they stepped off of the Tilt-a-Whirl (on her insistence) for the third time that evening. He looked at her concerned ah she hunched over clutching her stomach. "I think I'm going to - "
His eyes widened as he realized that she looked pale and ready to throw up. He looked around quickly for a bench. Finding one, he led her there and she sat down, moaning lightly and he was sure that he heard his name and the word 'idiot' in the same sentence. Relieved that she was sarcastic again, he sat down beside her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Maybe you shouldn't have had all that mustard."
She glared at him threw lowered lashes. "You think so, huh?"
He smirked at her murderous expression and spoke carefully. "Maybe we should stick with stuff that keeps our feet on the ground at all times."
A wavy smile shone through her pain. "I really wanted to see if I could get those rings around that metal rod."
He nodded and stood up. "The Hoop-La it is."
Paris clutched her stomach, steadied herself and then stood up slowly. When they reached the booth, he watched with amusement as she handed over two dollars for five rings, mumbling about a rip-off. Then with the determination of a pit-bull, she tossed the first ring hopelessly towards the awaiting rod. It clunked against it and hit the ground.
"Four more left," the woman manning the booth, stated amused.
"I can count," Paris shot back. "But thank you for the heads-up."
Jess smirked at the older woman. "You're disrupting her concentration."
Paris took in a deep breath and threw the next one. This one followed its predecessor, and lay next to it on the ground.
He came to stand behind her and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. In the process he caught the scent of her shampoo – fresh, fruity and just as simple as she was. Sensations swan in his head. "Relax, Paris. Don't try so hard."
She guided her hand, just as strongly this time, just with more ease and precision. The ring circled the rod, before plopping down unceremoniously. A perfect landing. She let out an uncharacteristic squeal and then composed herself for the next throw.
The next two landed atop the third one.
Paris let out cheerful, enthusiastic whoop of joy and turned around, throwing her arms around his in a victory hug. He returned it chuckling, liking how she pressed up against him – catching him by surprise.
"You get to pick your animal," the booth woman deadpanned.
Paris turned to her. "Excuse me?"
"Anything from up there." This time the woman hitched her thumb to be clearer.
After a few minutes of deliberation, she pointed out a big, beige colored dog with big plastic eyes and a hopeful, goofy smile. Surprised at her choice he grinned at the dog in her hand. "Nice choice."
"Glad you like it," she answered evenly and then held the stuffed toy out to him. "It's yours."
He blinked twice. "What?"
"You know how guys are always winning things for girls?" she asked rhetorically as she thrust the silly animal into his face again. "Well - I won this for you."
Because of the look in her eyes and because it touched him, he took the dog. "Thanks. But why the dog?"
"Because it reminds me of you."
He guffawed. "I have puppy dog eyes?
"No," she grinned. "You have a goofy smile."
Said smile bloomed on his face and he tucked the animal under his arm. Looking around, he found another booth he enjoyed and led her to it. He had made the biggest dent in his wallet up to date that night winning her shiny, glow-in-the-dark jewelry that he insisted she wear until she went to bed.
"So, you tired?"
"A little," she admitted. "But I really wanna go on one more ride."
"Sure, just as long as it's not the Tilt-a-Whirl."
"It's right behind you."
He turned around, looked heavenward and then swallowed. "The Ferris Wheel."
"Isn't it some unwritten rule that you have to ride the Ferris wheel when you're at a carnival?" she asked as she pulled him into the quickly moving line.
"I don't really follow too many rules," he answered uncomfortable.
When the got into their car, and were locked in secured, she took his stuffed animal and he checked the steel bar once again, giving it a firm shake. She looked at him oddly and then her eyes widened and she started smiling. "You're afraid of heights!"
"What? No! Of course not!"
She chose to ignore him. The Wheel lurched forward and they were quickly rising in the air, leaving the people – and the ground below. As the Wheel started getting faster he unconsciously gripped her hand and Paris laughed gleefully. "Jess! Isn't this fun?!"
The butterflies in his stomach danced and he willed himself not to look down. "Yeah. A riot."
She leaned in a bit and whispered his words from earlier. "Just relax."
He tried, for her sake and his sanity.
Then the Wheel stopped and he was stuck at the very top. "What the hell?"
"They're letting people off from the bottom," she supplied and leaned back against the car, making the seat rock. "Don't look down and enjoy the view."
"Oh that's just so clichéd," he protested as his eyes settled on his surroundings. Of course, she was right. The view was nice. The moon shone above, stars twinkled, soft music and faint shouts of laughter could be heard as lights twinkled and flashed below. It was right out a movie. But that didn't mean the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach had settled.
"Its' so different. It's so…free up here. Away from the world but not too far. Like living on a cloud."
He grinned. "Didn't know you were a poet."
She rolled her eyes but then smiled back sweetly. "Didn't know you were a scaredy cat."
"I'm not scared. I just don't like the whole plunging head first to your death," he explained rationally.
"You sat on all those other rides," she pointed out, arching an eyebrow.
"They weren't so high up."
She smiled softly, hooking her arm with his. "I should have known."
He studied her face, the moonlight bouncing off the soft planes and curves and lighting in her eyes. She looked different to him up here, without the pressure of society or school dragging her down, without other people around making her rigid and tense as if one word could maim her reputation or personality. She looked carefree. Normal. Uninhibited. Beautiful.
"You should do that more."
She looked at him, curious. "What?"
"Smile."
In the dim light, he could still see her faint. Charmed he leaned forward and touched his lips to hers, like he had wanted to all evening. The slightest touch, the softest nip from her part has heat coursing through him and his head spinning with desire.
The ride lurched forward and he deepened the kiss.