Frank let us take our time with eating and talking. We laughed together. We talked about how everyone ended up in this carnival life. Frank repeated his story of running away from home because of an alcoholic father and an unfulfilled love. Donald had been in the military when his wife left him for another man while he was deployed, so he packed his things and left his life behind once he returned.

Then there was Jerry and Little Garry who didn't explain how they ended up here. Only talking about how they were lost in a city they didn't know and Frank offered them work four years ago and they accepted. Back then Little Garry had been only 10 and cared for only by his 14-year-old brother. I didn't dare ask how they ended up alone because Little Garry cracked jokes about it like someone terrified of being asked for a backstory.

Once Frank has had his second or third cup of coffee and everyone was finished, stuffed to the brim, and the receipt was paid, we packed our stuff. The Russian carnies from three tables over had left without another interaction with us and I was glad that that problem was gone.

Donald jumped over the backrest of our booth because I didn't move out of the way fast enough. I turned up my nose at his impatience until I realized that he walked over to the counter to lean against it and the red-head rushed to him. She and her rosy cheeks asked him if he wanted anything else. He said something under his breath that I didn't understand but it made the waitress blush even more and wring her hands with a bright smile. Just as bright as the light in Donald's eyes when he talked to her.

And he talked much.

"Look at that. He can talk." I mention casually, hushed enough to be inaudible for the two at the counter. He already talked more in the time it took the rest of us to walk out the diner than I had heard him talk the two days prior. I completely forgot about the sweet tea that I planned on getting because I didn't want to disturb Donald in his flirting attempt now.

"I didn't know he can speak more than one sentence at a time." Little Gerry said casually and got nudged by Jerry as a response.

"That's because you're not a pretty girl, Little Jerry." Frank laughed at Little Gerry's frowning before walking ahead and leading us back to camp.

For the first round of bills, we went around town together. Frank wanted to show Patrick and me the tips and tricks of advantageous placard placements so we could split up tomorrow and work our routes in small groups. Little Garry and Jerry got into fights with each other every two miles and my focus was always just barely out of reach since our last night. Thankfully it started to rain pretty quickly and Frank declared it useless to try to placard anything because the adhesive wouldn't dry.

When we arrived back at our van, wet to the bones, Donald was already waiting for us. Considerably less wet. And he was in his final throes of stretching a tarp over the open hatchback and pulling the edges far enough outwards and securing them, to catch most of the rain and wind. Jerry and Little Garry immediately ran to help pull everything together.

Curiously enough, I saw Donald smile for the first time without any joke or funny situation happening beforehand. I knew the others noticed it, too. But they didn't mention it. It was a thing that we silently agreed on simply appreciating and we didn't want to scare it away by pointing it out.

The guys hid from the rain in the back of the van, cowering together in front of a kerosene lantern that Donald had excavated from a pile of placards. I retreated to the front to change into some dry clothes because through all the rain and cold wind, I started to shake and my fingers turned an icy blue.

I was about to lift my shirt when Patrick knocked on the passenger door. I only opened a tiny crack, enough for him to ask if he could come in.

"I was about to change," I whispered but let him climb on the seat next to me, his hair dripping on the seat. I was barely able to keep my eyes off his wet white dress shirt, exposing the skin under it.

"I know." A smug smile on his face. "But I thought you might need a little warmth." He presented me with a blanket that was only partly wet with rain.

"Thanks," I said as I took it. "I still need to get out of my clothes for this to work."

"Do you have spare clothes with you?" He suddenly became very shy, trying hard to keep his eyes from wandering from my drenched hair to my wet t-shirt that was clinging to my body.

"Yes." I breathed, while in the back of the van, Donald started to play his harmonica to a rhythm that indicated sitting around a campfire in summer.

"Good. I'll leave you to it then." He gave me one of those confident smiles that provoked me to do something stupid. A very wild part of me almost asked him to stay. I wanted to slap this part to consciousness again and I was glad I didn't give in to it. Patrick leaned in and scanned my face as if he wanted to memorize it before I closed the gap between our lips. It was a different kind of kiss. There were more burning and more needing, desiring. Craving.

It was a strange feeling. Like he consumed me but at the same time fueled everything I was. The part of me that wanted him to stay grew with every second he spent caressing my lips. When I realized I had grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer, I broke the kiss. It took me a second to open my eyes while my heart was still spinning in my chest.

He looked at me with half-lidded eyes and a sideways smile. There was silence in between our breaths while there was so much to say but nothing was sweet enough for a moment like this. The eternal knowledge that this was a time in my life that will forever be engraved in my memory. A part of who I am. A knot in time. The starting point of a new timeline in my existence. At this moment every string was being freshly spun into a new construct and I loved the sensation of a new life to come.

"I hope you will be happy," He whispered and pressed a sweeter kiss on my lips. I hoped I will be happy, too. But right now it didn't seem likely that I could ever be unhappy in his arms and with his lips on mine. I loved this season of my life so much, I wanted to keep it in my hands and never let go of him or the feeling or anything else that made it that way. He kissed me again and it gave me another nudge over the edge of bliss.

Way too early, he climbed out of the passenger door again and walked around the van to the back. I watched him disappear into the misty air in the wing mirror while I was increasingly thankful for my wet clothes to cool me down. My mind chewed on this interaction like it was too much to handle such happiness and I couldn't contain it. I closed my eyes, trying to keep every wave of my dopamine rush together but it trickled through my hands.

On a mission to not let the high leave too soon, I quickly changed into dry jeans and a sweater to keep me warm. With the blanket in hand, I rejoined the others in the cargo area and settled in the back next to Patrick where we had previously spent the night.

Donald had begun another tune while Frank enjoyed the tranquility with his eyes closed. Jerry showed Little Garry how to fold old newspapers that they dug up somewhere into planes with increased difficulty. And we were left in the dark far end of the cargo area alone and unobserved. I wanted to kiss him again and again. Like the night in the hay wagon. I wanted to feel his weight and warmth. But this was not a time for such activities. I doubted there will be a time for that soon.

"What do you think will happen when they arrive here?" My voice was low enough to be overshadowed by Donald's tune if one's not sitting right next to me as Patrick did.
He cleared his throat and let his arms hang over his knees. It was even obvious to me that he thought hard about what part of the truth he wanted to leave out.

"I don't want anything to come between us," I stated to his relief. "I know my parents will try."

"Your dad will want to kill me if Alex doesn't do it first," Patrick said with a hint of bitterness in his laugh.

"He might," I admitted with a grin on my lips. "But you're almost 18 now. As am I. We are capable of making our own decisions."
Patrick scanned my face curiously. "You don't have to make a decision now, Annie. You have plenty of time even if you've not decided until your birthday. Your 18th birthday is not a deadline."

"I didn't say that!" I protested too harshly maybe. But he was reading me and I didn't like it. "I just know that you told me about your dream of leaving once you turn 18. You had it since you were 12 and your birthday is in two weeks."

"I know. I've resented that date for years. I told you about my plans because I had nothing holding me back, back then. Things change."

I let Donald start another tune before I commenced.

"You have nothing holding you back now, either," I said and I felt the cut it caused through the 10 inches of air that separated us. "I don't want to be the reason you give up your dreams, too."

Patrick sighed and shifted to face me. "Dreams change. I had other dreams in the past and abandoned them for new ones. Sometimes they came back, sometimes better things happened. I have a new one now and I don't plan on abandoning that one so soon." He took one of my hands and caressed it with his thumb before turning it over and unconsciously following the creases in my palm with his index finger.

"What is your new dream now?"

He smiled and brought my knuckles to his lips before looking me in the eyes. I leaned closer, the craving for a kiss greater than ever now. But he lowered my hand again to continue his caress while he spoke: "Long showers, a solid door, a bed big enough for two and furniture that can't be folded again."

The future we dreamt up in the hay wagon reappeared behind my eyes in all its suburban glory.

"I want to not worry about money but instead be able to make stupid decisions that won't be life-threatening. I want to be the one that makes you happy. And I want you in my life forever."

"That sounds an awful lot like a proposal," I said, too overwhelmed by the love he plastered me with. Not in a bad way. But in a way that made me play it cool because I wasn't ready to admit that I wanted all those things, too. Deep in my heart, I knew that there's going to be a time when I will not be scared to leave and that will be the time that I will reciprocate all that he said. Everything I was doing now just led up to that inevitable point in time and there was no other way my future will be going. I didn't want it to go any other way. So actually all my brain and heart said was yes to all of it, even though I didn't let him know that yet.

"I don't have a ring. You can't propose without a ring."

I drowned in his confident smile and couldn't keep myself from kissing him anymore. I didn't care who saw it. He was the best thing that happened to me and I couldn't even express to myself how I felt for him.

A paper plane poked me in the arm and I was startled off my high. When I looked up, Little Gerry yelled over at us with a disgusted grimace: "Get a room!", while Donald wheezed into his harmonica, eliciting dying sounds from it.