Page 30 of Embers of You
We haven’t talked about him that much, but we saw him as we were leaving today. She made sure to tell me exactly how she feels about the tall, somewhat scary looking man that lives next door. Apparently, something happened when she moved in, and they’re both the type to hold grudges. That fact has now led to a neighborly feud.
It makes me extremely glad that I’m not on Bailey’s bad side, because she’s someone I definitely want to have as a friend, not as an enemy.
There’s an announcement crackling over the loudspeakers, cutting through the low hum of chatter and the distant smell of funnel cakes and hay. My heart gives a little jolt as the voice echoes through the stands. “Ladies and gentlemen, the rodeo is about to begin!”
Instantly, all my focus shifts to the arena in front of us. The noise fades, the crowd blurs, and my eyes lock onto the dirt ring as they announce the start of the barrel races and who’s up first.
“Jameson Turner,” the announcer bellows, and there’s a noticeable shift in the crowd. “Making his return to the races after ten years.”
My jaw drops because I wasn’t expecting to see him here. The starting signal goes off, and Jameson is riding on a dark brown horse that runs out extremely fast. My eyes track the two of them as they run around the first barrel, he’s so low to the ground on the turn I’m surprised he doesn’t scrape the ground or fall off.
Then they’re running to the next one and doing the same thing. The timer stops and the crowd erupts in cheers. IncludingBailey and me, and I’m surprised to see her so animated as she claps for Jameson alongside the rest of the crowd.
I’m also surprised with how excited I am for him and how wide I’m smiling. I watch the area Jameson and the horse went through and watch him jump off, patting the horse on his head. He turns around and it’s like he knows exactly where I am as his eyes lock on mine even from across the distance.
At first I think there’s no way he actually sees me, he’s just looking out at the crowd. But then that perfect smile appears on his face, the one that lights up in his eyes, and I’m annoyed with myself for recognizing it. I still can’t bring myself to look away, so I raise my hand in a wave. I watch in fascination as he waves back at me.
“I think you caught his attention.” Bailey nudges me softly.
“Yeah, I think I have for a little while, unfortunately.”
“I’ve only ever heard good things about him. The town golden boy.” Bailey shrugs. “There are worse guys to catch the attention of.”
I shake my head, looking away from Jameson to face Bailey. “I’m sure a lot of women catch his attention, I’m not special.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
I hum, turning back toward the arena just as the next rider is announced. They’re good, but not as fast as Jameson. My eyes continue to drift to where he is throughout the rodeo and every single time I look over at him, I find that he’s already looking at me.
After the rodeo is finished, everyone takes their time getting up and finding their way out of the arena and over to the festivalgrounds. I don’t seek Jameson out as Bailey and I leave. We walk the short distance to where the carnival rides and booths are set up in a large field.
There are pictures of strawberries all over, but when it comes to actual strawberries this place really is lacking them, which I find ironically funny. There are vendor booths set up in rows, selling various items and food.
Behind them there’s a group of carnival games and in the largest part of the field, there are some rides including a tilt-o-whirl, a Ferris wheel, and a roller coaster that does not look safe. It’s like a smaller version of a state fair. They could have named it something along those lines, but for some reason the Amity Strawberry Festival sticks,. Now I’ve made it my mission to find at least one single berry.
Bailey and I walk through the row of vendors, and while some have products with strawberries on them, none of the food carts have any. The closest thing I find is strawberry lemonade. As we’re waiting in line, Bailey groans, turning to face me even more.
“What?” I question.
“Wes is here,” she scoffs.
I look past her shoulder and catch sight of our extremely large neighbor pacing nearby. His head swivels every few seconds, scanning the crowd, the arena, the exits—anywhere but the people around him. He doesn’t look like he even wants to be here. I’m not sure he’s here for the rodeo at all.
“Do you think he’s here with someone?” I ask her and she huffs out a half laugh.
“Doubt it. No one can handle more than five minutes of being in his presence.”
“Hm.” I wonder what his story is. I feel like the hate between them may be rooted in something else. Something that may explode in another way.
We get our food and sit on some benches to eat the barbecue sandwiches which are surprisingly good. The strawberry lemonade, though, is severely lacking in strawberry.
After we’re finished, we wander toward the row of games. There’s the usual line-up of tossing ones. Rings flying toward glass bottles, darts thudding into balloons. Nearby, a row of brightly painted booths features the water-gun races. The prizes are a colorful mess. Oversized stuffed animals, inflatable hammers, and even a sad-looking tank of goldfish.
Bailey and I are watching a couple of kids who are overly animated as they shoot the water guns toward the target. Their screams get louder as one of the kids starts to pull ahead of the others.
Someone steps up next to me, but I’m so entranced in the game that I hardly pay attention, even when the bell dings signaling the winner. The kid cheers loudly while the others take their defeat well, even though I’m sure they’re sad about losing.
“Want to try it out?” a voice asks next to me, startling me and I jump.
