Page 51 of The County Fair Queen

"Dork," he said with a chuckle. "No, I was thinking of twenty questions."

"Why would I want to play twenty questions?"

"It could help us get to know each other. Nothing is off the table. Anything you've ever wanted to know, I'll answer."

"What makes you think I've ever wanted to know anything about you?"

He leaned in, and for a moment I thought this might be it. The moment our lips met for the first time. A chill ran down my spine, and goosebumps prickled on my arms. He was only inches from my mouth when he shifted his path, bringing his lips to my ear. He rested there for a while, just breathing against the side of my face. Though he said nothing, his quiet collection of unspoken words made my knees shake. They made my hands tremble, and my dick throb between my thighs. His hand stroked the top of my leg, making the briefest of contact with me ever-growing bulge.

"Call it a wild guess, baby." When he pulled away, he had an innocent expression, as if he hadn't just almost pulled an orgasm from me by breath alone. "So," he said cheerfully. "Want to play?"

"Fine—ye-yeah, Riv, that's… that's fine." I said, trying to steady my racing heart. "You want me to go first?"

"You're no good when you're put on the spot. You need someone to guide you. Someone to look out for you."

"And you want to be that guy?"

"You don't know the half of it. Question one," he said. "Are you glad you came home?"

I stared down at our intertwined fingers and smiled. "I am now."

"Me too. I didn't know how you'd react to seeing me. I've wanted to make things right for a long time, Firecracker. Thank you for allowing me to."

"Thank you for wanting to make it right."

"Question two: ninth grade science class. You remember?"

"Anything specific, or just in general? Kind of hard to forget an entire class."

"Jerk," he said with a laugh. "The project we did together. Lighting up the bulb with that potato."

"I still have the scars." I pulled the neck of my shirt down, revealing two small oblong splotches of seared skin. When I looked up, he was staring at the exposed flesh as if it was singing him a siren song, luring him to his lusty grave. He reached for the decades-old scars, his fingers scarcely making contact before pulling away.

"You don't know how nervous I was when I showed up to your house with that potato. I stayed up most of the night before, just trying to work myself up to it."

"Can't say that's surprising. Spending the day with the town queer wasn't going to do much for your popularity."

"That's not why I was nervous." He turned away from me and stared out the window. Outside, there was a snow cone truck making its rounds. I wasn't sure why; it was the middle of autumn, and school was still in session. Unless that truck carried tequila flavored cherry snow cones, I wasn't sure who their target audience was. "Question four," he said as the truck'smusic twinkled in the background. "What you said the other day at the fair. Did you mean it?"

"I've been stoned for at least seventy percent of this trip. I'm going to need you to elaborate."

"When you said you thought I was cute," he said. My cheeks fuckingburned. Had someone cracked an egg on top of them, I was sure I could have it fried in seconds. "Did you?"

"I thought you were a prick," I said sweetly. "If that helps."

His fingers danced lightly against the side of my neck, his nail scraping against my scars. "See? This is what I was talking about when I said you needed someone to guide you. You've already told me you used to think about my prick, remember? At the fair that first day." His eyes flooded with an expression I couldn't quite read. Excitement? Disgust? Dare I even hope… arousal? I couldn't be sure. "Want to hear a secret?"

"Not really," I said, hoping my bated breath didn't give me away.

"I thought you were pretty cute, yourself. Still do. May have even thought about your prick a time or two." I gaped at him, but he didn't let that stop him. "Last night, as a matter of fact." He leaned in even closer. "Twice."

"Oh, my God," I whispered. I needed my heart to slow down. It was beating so fast, I worried it might just burst out from my chest.

"I had the biggest crush on you in school, Phillip. The way I'd look up and catch you staring at me—the way you still stare at me—you don't know what it does to me. What it always has." He closed his eyes, a gentle smile quirked on his face. "Thank you." My breaths were harsh. Jagged and inconsistent little huffs. "For coming home. For giving me a second chance." His eyes shot open, and the intensity in them made my entire body tremble. "You never answered. Did you…doyou?" It felt like someone had shoved me out of a plane with no parachute. The look inhis eyes seemed sincere, but I still wasn't sure how much of this was just for show. "Phillip," he said with so much affection in his voice, it made my chest ache. "It's just me and you. It's okay, I promise."

I took a deep breath, and then I took a leap of faith. "Yeah, Riv. I thought you were cute." I smiled at him, cautious but hopeful. "You're beautiful, Rivers."

He reached for me, his thumb brushing against my faulty-potato-induced war wound. "Question number," he chuckled to himself, gently shaking his head. "Question whatever through twenty," he said, leaning in until our foreheads touched. "Can I kiss you?"

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