I got home from work around 7:15. The first thing I did was hurry up to my room to take a shower. The inside of the bookstore smelled like old books. And the last thing I wanted to smell like was musty vanilla; so to be sure I didn’t, I washed my hair, too.
For my outfit, I decided on a pair of jeans and a white peasant top. It was a tad see-through, so I put a tank under it. Then, I looked in the mirror and realized I needed some color. After a few scans of my handbag collection, I decided on one with the most vibrant colors. It was my vintage, ’60s, multi-colored crochet shoulder bag. It was perfect against the plain backdrop of my shirt.
At a few minutes to eight, I went down to the living room and waited. My mother was just sitting on the couch looking at me. Her legs were crossed, and one was rapidly swaying back and forth. She was more nervous than I was. Just when I was about to tell her to relax, the doorbell rang.
I walked to the foyer as casually as I could, but when I opened the door, my heart did a cartwheel. The second I saw him, I instantly smiled and he returned the gesture. I noticed his eyes give me a quick look-over.
“You look nice,” he said shyly. If I hadn’t been mistaken, I would have thought him to be a little nervous, too.
“Thanks. Come in. I’d like you to meet my mom.”
He nodded and stepped in. I noticed he was wearing dark jeans and a very nice black, zip-up jacket, with a high-collared baby blue sweater peeking out at the neck. It looked very good on him, to say the least. There was no doubt that he was model material, without even trying to be. The definition in Wes’ face was natural, and it didn’t deserve to be disrupted—unless it was by his captivating smile, which was now directed at me.
I instinctively grabbed his hand and led him into the living room. The coolness of his palm sent a chill up my spine, and I wondered how cold it was outside. By the time we reached the living room, my mom was already standing.
“Mom, this is Wes. Wes, this is my mom, Gayle.” I suppose that’s what I should’ve said. I didn’t know.
“Hello, Wes, it is very nice to finally meet you,” she said, motioning him to come in and sit down. I only hoped this wasn’t going to last too long. “So, Sophie, tells me you guys met when she crashed into you.” It wasn’t a question, but Wes took the cue.
“Yes, ma’am, she did. She didn’t do that much damage to my car though, so it was fine.”
“Well, I thought it was awfully nice of you to pay for all the damage to both vehicles yourself. What do your parents do?” I shot a look over at her that could have frozen boiling water. I couldn’t believe she’d asked him that. I wanted to reach over there and shake her. She must have sensed my horror because she quickly corrected herself—her next question didn’t sound as rude, but still rude, nevertheless.
“Well, I mean that, it’s not every day a college student can pay for someone else’s vehicle when they were not at fault. I was just wondering if your parents helped you, or if you had to pay for this yourself.” My anger turned to complete embarrassment when he answered her.
“Well, Ms. Slone, my parents died when I was younger.” I turned my head to look at my mother and by the look on her face, I saw that she was just as embarrassed as she should’ve been. Wes continued. “My uncle raised me for a while, and then he died when I was eighteen.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” my mother interrupted, and for the first time, I saw my mother in complete mental discomfort. He all too nicely tried to make her feel better.
“It’s okay, Ms. Slone,” he assured her. “If you were wondering how or why I took care of Sophie’s car, it’s because I wanted to do something that would help her. My parents were very wealthy, and my uncle was a renowned scientist, so I have quite a bit of savings. She seems like a very nice girl, and I didn’t want her to have to worry about it.”
Wes looked completely comfortable with the whole conversation, but I felt terrible. I stood up and told my mother we were going to be late. I wanted to leave immediately.
As soon as we got in the car, I apologized for my mother’s prying.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. She was asking normal questions,” he said, trying to reassure me.
“Still, it was very personal, and she shouldn’t have pried.”
“Sophie, those are very normal questions. I get them all the time. It’s fine.”
I let out a big sigh and stared out the window. I was trying very hard to block out the whole incident, but I couldn’t. He’d lost both of his parents and an uncle. I couldn’t imagine going through that. All of a sudden, I felt like my life had been so easy. My one complaint was having to move around too often. I tried to sympathize.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
“I already told you. No worries.”
“I meant, I’m sorry about your loss.”
He looked directly in my eyes and gave me a slight nod, as if to tell me he was all right. We drove for a while without saying anything. I wanted to change the subject to a happier note, at least from my perspective.
“I love carnivals,” I said. “I haven’t been to one since I lived in Virginia.”
He smiled slightly. “I’m glad.”
“Of course, I never win anything,” I admitted.
“You might tonight,” he added. I smiled in response to his optimism.
The seats in his car were on the tiny side compared to my Jeep, but there was enough room for me to turn my body, so I perked up a bit and twisted so I was facing him. Occasionally I could see his eyes turn toward my direction to check if I was still watching him. But for the most part, he kept his eyes on the road and smoothly shifted gears.
It seemed like we drove for a half-hour. I lost track of where we were going, because I wasn't even watching the road. He had put on a CD that I had never heard before, but I liked it. After a while, I just closed my eyes and started listening. I almost fell asleep in an odd state of tranquility, which was interrupted when he lightly nudged my knee to let me know we were there. I immediately perked up and saw two gigantic Ferris wheels lighting up the sky. It was a big carnival. I felt so excited; it was almost like I was a kid again.
He parked the car, and as I gathered my purse from the floor, he walked around the front of the car and opened the door for me. I could immediately hear the sounds of the bells and horns and people laughing. I couldn't wait to play some games. He put his hand on the small of my back as he guided me toward the ticket booth. After he’d purchased some tickets, he asked me if I was hungry or thirsty. I told him I wanted to play a few games first, and then we could get something to eat.
We started walking down the midway and were immediately bombarded with luring tempters. Lined up on both sides of the aisle were game hosts calling to us from their booths. “Step right up. Take a shot. Let’s see what you got. Win your prize.” It was hard to walk right past some of them, but I knew what I wanted.
I immediately zeroed in on the roll-down game. It was one of my favorites, because it really didn’t require that much talent, and I like games where you took your chances. We both sat down on the stool and the guy behind the counter said it was $2.00 per person to play. Wes put down two dollars.
“Aren't you going to play?” I asked.
“No, I want to watch you.” I was glad there was really no way for me to embarrass myself. All I had to do was drop the little wooden ball on the decline and watch it roll into the little numbered slots. If I got a total number over 28 or under 14, then I would win a prize. I'm sure there was a strategy to playing, but I just dropped my ball and let it roll. The first time I played, I got 25. I stuck my bottom lip out a little, and I heard Wes chuckle as he put down another $2.00. I looked at him, unconvinced. “You really want to watch me play this again?”
He leaned in closer, being sure to maintain eye contact. “I could watch you play this all night.” I felt my cheeks blush a little as I turned forward and let the next ball drop. I started concentrating really hard as I rolle
d the next balls, and my score that time was a 22. Still no win.
It may not have taken any real talent, but it was starting to get embarrassing. He kept putting down two dollars every time I lost, encouraging me to keep trying. I did want a little stuffed animal, and Wes seemed to get a kick out of it, so I kept playing. I lost track of how many dollars Wes gave the guy before I won my first stuffed animal. It was a little koala bear about the size of my hand. The guy gave it to me and I started laughing. Wes said, “What? You don't like your bear? You worked so hard for it.” He was holding back a smile.
“Yes, I do like my bear, but I was just hoping for that great big one up there. It's cute.” I was pointing at a huge white bear with a red ribbon around the neck.
Wes turned to the guy and asked, “What does she have to do to earn that bear?”
The guy looked at me and then back to Wes. “You're going to need a lot more dollar bills if she wants to win that.”
I saw Wes' eyes narrow as he looked up at the guy. “Well, maybe I'll have better luck,” he said. He sat back down, and I started to feel guilty for having said something. I didn't want Wes to waste any more money. Plus, I could tell Wes was a little irritated, and the guy looked all too willing to take his money.
I quickly sat down next to him. “Wes, you don't have to do this. I really don't need that bear.”
“I want you to have it,” he said, squaring his shoulders toward the game, putting two more dollars on the counter. On his very first try, he got 29 points, and then he looked at me and said, “I guess it’s my lucky day.” Every time he rolled, he got the exact amount he needed to win. I watched in amazement as he carefully selected which side of the lane to release his ball. Sometimes he put it on the left, sometimes toward the middle, and sometimes on the right. He knew exactly where to drop it.
I would’ve been embarrassed about having frivolously squandered away my rolls before, but I was too busy getting a kick out of watching that guy’s face as Wes kept winning. At the height of Wes’ victory, the guy went to hand him the bear, but he declined. Instead, Wes pointed to me, indicating that the prize was mine. I took it and gave it a big squeeze.
“Thank you,” I said, beaming.
“You are very welcome.”
We started walking, and he told me he was hungry, so he wanted to grab something to eat. I was a little hungry myself, so I was glad he offered. As we were walking, I thought it would be a good time to feed my curiosity.
“So, do you come here often?” I asked, trying not to sound too interested.
“No, not at all. Why?”
“Well, I was just curious. You seemed like you play that game a lot. I was just wondering.”
“Oh no. I haven't been to one of these in a very long time.”
I wasn't sure I believed him, but I was having a great time, so I dropped it. We reached the little eatery stand, and he ordered a hot dog with French fries. I had a slice of pizza and a Coke. When we were done eating, he asked me if I wanted a funnel cake. I was stuffed, but I was not about to pass on one of those.
He hopped up and offered to go get me one, but I went with him and ate it as we walked. He didn't want any, so I was stuck eating it all by myself, and that was boring. I wanted to share.
“Are you sure you don’t want a bite?”
He smiled that perfect smile of his. “Yes, I’m sure.”
I held it up and waved it in front of him, hoping he’d change his mind. He started smiling and motioned to gently move my arm down when a large rush of cool air came between us, sweeping up the powdered sugar from the funnel cake. I grabbed the plate, but not in time to stop a white gust of powder from finding a new home all over Weston’s face and designer jacket.
Oh my God! My mouth dropped opened. “I’m so sorry!”
He started laughing. “It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t.” I started dusting it off of him frantically. I managed to get most of it off of his jacket, and I stopped before reaching his face. It was splattered with white powder, and he was still smiling. I was sure he wouldn’t be so happy if he could see himself. Then again, he was still ridiculously cute. Powdered sugar and all.
He was making no motion whatsoever to clean himself off, but I couldn’t let him walk around like that, so I reached up with my hand and started brushing his face gently. His cheeks were cool to my touch, and incredibly soft and smooth. I got all of it off except for the remnants, which resided on his lips. I fought thoughts of tasting it, but then I got a grip. “You have some on your lips,” I informed him. In slow motion, I watched, no stared, as he licked his lips clean of every last speck of dissolving sugar.
“Um,” he said.
I cleared my throat and blinked. “Uh…maybe I should throw this away.”
He was holding back a smile now. “Maybe you should.”
I threw the rest away, all the while fighting the fluttery sensation that was going wild inside. He snapped me out of my trance by asking me if I wanted to get on some rides or if I wanted to play some more games.
“Well, if you hadn’t let me stuff myself with the funnel cake, then maybe I would say rides, but since you did, let’s play some games.”
“All right, you pick. What do you want to play?”
We walked for a while and passed the dart throw game, the shoot out game, the game where you have to knock the cans down with the ball, and a basketball game. All of them required some sort of skill, and I had already wasted a bunch of his money, so I picked the horse racing game. I loved that game, too. It was an exciting game, but it still only required a bit of luck. Once again, Wes only put down enough for me to play. I was starting to suspect he didn't want to whip my butt in any of them.
On my first game, there were four other people playing, and I thought to myself, I can beat them. All I had to do was roll the ball in the high number holes to make my horse go faster than all the others. When the bell went off, I started rolling my ball and my horse got a quick jump ahead of the rest of the field. My chances looked promising at first, but shortly after that, it seemed like my balls were always going in the lowest number. My horse finished dead last. I frowned, and Wes instantly put down two more dollars with a grin. I quickly slid the money back over to him.
“Oh, no you don't. I’m not doing this again. You keep your money. You play. I want to watch you.”
“But I was having so much fun watching you.”
“Well, I’d rather watch you win. Besides, my bear needs a friend.” I poked out my lip in a little pout.
He reached over and moved my hair behind my ear, smiling softly. “Well, then, in that case, let’s get your bear a friend.” He casually squared off with the game and effortlessly won another enormous bear just for me. Once again, he had no problem rolling his ball in a professional fashion, where each one dropped where he wanted it to. Not only did his horse win the races, it won by a landslide. I was just as tickled to get that bear as I had been to get the first, but I was no longer convinced that he was winning with luck.
“Are you going to tell me that you really haven’t played these games in a while?”
“I never said that,” he said innocently.
“Well, then how do you expect me to believe that you’re that good if you don’t play a lot?”
“I do play a lot. I have these games at home.”
“You have them at home? Like on a computer?” I needed clarification.
“No, I have the actual games.” I looked at him skeptically. “It's true,” he said. “I have them in my basement.”
“I don't believe you,” I said, half-joking. We were walking then, and he had taken one of the bears to lighten my load.
“Well, I'll show you sometime.”
That was a good sign. I took that as an extended invitation for another date. That thought made me feel really good and curious at the same time. It was starting to get late, and he asked me if I was tired and ready to go. “Just a little,” I admitted. “But I'm not ready to go.
” He chuckled and said some part that I tuned out about returning me safely to my mom, and another part about it being a long drive home.
“Can we just do the Ferris wheel before we go? We still have the tickets.” I was trying to make the evening last longer.
He looked confused. “Are you sure you want to do the Ferris wheel?” he asked. I was afraid of heights, but I was not about to let him in on that little secret. I just wanted to spend a little more time with him. And if that meant being a little dizzy for a few minutes, then it was well worth it. I wasn't ready to go home.
“Yes, I'm sure,” I answered confidently.
“Okay, but we can do something else, if you want.”
I had already said it, and I didn't want to sound like I was desperately trying to hang on to the moment so I reassured him, “Yes, I like Ferris wheels.” He looked a little bit perplexed but motioned with his hand for me to go ahead of him. I was starting to feel stupid for suggesting the whole thing. I hoped he couldn’t see my desperate attempt to keep the date going.
There was a very short line, so I didn’t have much time to think about it. When we climbed into the car, he offered to take my teddy bear and set it across from us. I clutched the bear instantly and told him I preferred to hold it. I thought having something on my lap to squeeze would help with the dizziness and nausea I might feel.
The first few times around weren't so bad. He asked me a lot of questions about where I'd lived before, how we moved to California, how long we lived in California, where I went to school, and things like that. It had taken my mind off the ride, but by the fourth or fifth time around, I looked out over the edge and felt instantly queasy.
“It helps if you don’t look down,” he said, putting his arm around me. How embarrassing, and was it that obvious?
“I’m fine,” I lied. Regardless, I took his advice and stared at my bear for the rest of the ride. As we got off, he put his arms on my elbows to steady me. It was completely embarrassing.