“I was, yeah.” Gigi adverts her gaze, becoming fascinated with the lights strung above our heads. “We got some food and some ice cream. We were going to go play a game, and then—”
“And then I showed up,” I guess. “Right?”
She nods. “Yeah. Not much of a carnival date.”
“I’m sorry about that. Still.”
“I told you I don’t want to talk about it,” Gigi says, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. “Can we not talk about it?”
I had a feeling she’d react this way. If I said something stupid when I was drunk, she wouldn’t tell me. “Sure. Yeah.”
She smiles at me, all signs of worry disappearing.
I decide to pivot entirely. “How’s Belinda? She still dating?”
Gigi sighs. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”
I laugh. “What does that mean?”
“She’s started bringing dates home.”
“Oh. That’s…” Thinking about it for even a second makes me ill. “Wow.”
“That’s not the worst of it, though. Oh, no.” I raise my eyebrows, waiting. “I came downstairs this morning to have coffee before work, right? There’s a guy, probably no older than me, standing in a sweatshirt and boxers in front of our open fridge. He was drinkingmilk.He was drinking milk right from the jug.”
“Oh, no way.”
“Yes. I don’t know if him being a slob is the worst part, or if him being young enough to be mistaken for her son is.”
I wince at the thought. “Really?”
“The kid was wearing a University of South Carolina hoodie. I don’t think it gets clearer than that.”
“Any tattoos?” I ask.
Gigi winces. “I was too mortified to care about that.”
“Fair.”
“I want food,” Gigi decides as we walk. “Preference?”
I shake my head. “You’re showing me how these dates work. You pick.”
“Cotton candy first,” she says with a grin. “You can’t come to a carnival and not get cotton candy, Cade.”
I don’t disagree with her.
I don’t have a clue how this carnival date thing is supposed to work, but Gigi is happy. So, I’m happy.
It’s been fun, really, to watch her float around all night like a hyper kid with too much sugar in their system. I haven’t enjoyed myself like this in a long time.
Not with anyone but Gigi.
I can’t stop thinking about her. Every second, my mind goes to her. Those blue eyes, her smile, her laugh when I try to be funny. I like making her happy.
I know I’ve made my intentions with her clear; I want her in my bed, not my heart. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.
I can’t give Gigi the relationship she craves—the stability, the significance—but I selfishly want to keep her as close to me as she can be. And away from the other guy.