I glide between them to kiss Lindsay’s cheek, but he hooks an arm around my waist and bends to catch my lips with his instead.
‘Hey, hot stuff,’ he says after I’ve tasted his tongue a little too early in the morning.
When I glance back at Zac, he’s studying the ticket prices like they’re the most fascinating thing on earth.
‘Where’s Meghan?’ I ask no one in particular, scrambling for something to say.
‘She’s here,’ a silky voice behind me replies, and Zac’s face lights up as Meghan strides into his arms like they haven’t seen each other in weeks.
When they push through the turnstiles in front of us, I catch Lindsay’s gaze latch on to Meghan’s perky backside in cut-off jean shorts. But the little burn in my chest feels more like irritation than jealousy.
The fair circles around the muddy Newcastle Showground—a time warp to my childhood with rickety, rusting rides that look half-deadly; old-school carnival games like creepy laughing clown heads and magnetic fishing; and popcorn stands releasing wafts of nostalgic, buttery aromas.
Meghan wants to see the baby animals, so we follow the paper map to the animal nursery, which turns out to be nothing more than a mucky barn housing a few juvenile goats and a pen of fully grown chickens.
Hoping for something a bit more thrilling, we wander in the direction of the rides. When Zac laces his fingers with Meghan’s ahead of us, I pull Lindsay’s arm close to mine.
‘What do you think, babe; should we go check out the beer tent?’ he asks, giving my ass a light squeeze through the thin fabric of my sundress.
I glance at my watch. ‘It’s not even midday yet.’
‘Ah, should’ve remembered; I’m dating a good girl. My bad.’ He winks at me.
Up ahead, Zac turns around and tosses us a cheeky grin. ‘Who’s up for the bumper cars?’
‘Me!’ I call out with a shiver of excitement, which says something about the calibre of rides at this fair. But I haven’t been on a bumper car track since high school, and Zac and I used to love that sadistic little ride.
‘Not me,’ Meghan says, running her fingers up and down Zac’s arm. ‘They make me feel sick. But you guys go, I’ll watch.’
‘Lindsay?’ I smile up at him, but he’s still eyeing off the beer tent.
‘I think I’ll skip it,’ he replies, dropping a soft kiss on my lips. ‘I’m gonna find a bathroom, but I’ll be back.’
‘OK.’ I glide my palm down his cheek. When the light catches his face, he really is easy on the eyes.
‘Looks like it’s you and me, Jose,’ Zac says, snaring my attention away.
I follow him over to the ticket booth, where he pays for us both to ride.
We climb onto the metal track blasting nineties dance music through tinny speakers, finding only one beaten-up car left.
‘You drive,’ I say to Zac, even though I could handle the savage little beast just as well as he. I decide that now isn’t the time to ask why bumper cars aren’t triggering for him after his car accident, but given he has to drive at high speeds for his job, I figure—Ihope—he’s had therapy somewhere along the line to help with that.
We squeeze inside the glittery blue vehicle, and I instantly turn fourteen years old again. The music turns up, the car jerks forward, and I’m already giggling my ass off.
Zac uses his paramedic driving skills to avoid every snotty-nosed kid attempting to bang into us. Rather than being bumped, we’re flying around the track, jolting left and right out of people’s way, which is its own brand of fun. Every time Zac turns the wheel left, he leans harder into me, his adorable laugh cutting through the blasting music.
His firm upper arm rubs against mine, and when we share a simultaneous glance, our gazes stick together. Half a breath later, I’m slammed forward so hard that my teeth chatter. Both my hands are gripping on to Zac’s forearm, and I feel like a startled cat as the car lurches to a stop.
‘You OK?’ he asks, his brows high.
‘Yeah. Ouch. I might need your ambo skills after this.’
He twists around and glares at the teen who just rammed us.
‘Oh, that dude’s fucking dead,’ Zac says under his breath, but the sparkle in his eyes makes clear he has no intention of doing any real damage to the kid. He spins the wheel vigorously to back up.
It’s only when we’re chasing the kid’s tail that I realise I’m still clutching Zac’s arm. He makes no sign of wanting me to let go, and his body is angled slightly towards mine, but I release him from my grasp and rub my sore neck.