Page 108 of Forgive Me Father
Surrounded by the smell of sweet kettle corn and rich caramel, children run around the festival grounds with armfuls of tickets. Wearing a pair of shades and a beanie, Roman looks like any other hipster that I’d see in the coffee shop.
Wearing a cropped shirt and a black skirt, a lot of the skin on my arms and legs is exposed, making me more uncomfortable than I’d like to admit.
"There's a reason people say self-harm is done for attention," I whisper. "The stares you get when people see the scars is why."
"Fuck them," Roman smiles. "Today is a day to unwind. So what if a few people stare," Grabbing my wrists, he raises them to his mouth, gently kissing the skin. "I think you look kind of badass."
Smiling, I nudge his shoulder, fighting back the urge to lace my fingers with his as we walk.
"So, what are we doing first?" He questions, tugging down his sunglasses to get a good look at everything.
Focusing on the carnival games, he actually looks excited.
"Do you have a secret competitive side, Father?" I question, watching his shoulders shrug with embarrassment.
"I don't like losing. Even some rigged, carney game."
Looking around, I watch a couple throw darts into a wall of balloons. I grab his hand to drag him over to the game.
"Give us ten darts each," I exclaim. The booth attendant stares at my arms, taking his time to grab the darts.
"That will be twenty bucks-"
"Ten for not keeping your eyes to yourself," Roman says causally, sliding over a ten to the man. "Stare any longer, and you’ll end up with one of these darts in your eye.”
Taking several steps back, the both attendant fixes his collar, moving on to the next set of customers.
"Ready to get your ass whooped?" He questions, nudging me playfully.
"Depends. What does the winner get?" I question, balancing the darts in my palm.
"Hopefully to feel you tugging my hair while moaning my name," Roman whispers, my cheeks immediately heating.
Aiming at the balloons, he hits the first three dead on. Trying to mimic his movements, I miss the first two, getting the third by some miracle.
"Not bad," Roman jokes.
"You gotta aim like this," He smiles, taking a stand behind me.
Guiding my arms from behind, he bends down, resting his chin on my head.
"Drag your arm back and focus on where you want it to land."
Placing his hand atop my own, he guides my arm back, keeping his free hand on my waist.
"Which one do you want?"
"The pink one, up top," I grin.
Helping me aim, he moves his hand away from atop my own, landing a kiss on the side of my neck.
"Extra encouragement, Angel. Now let it fly."
Tossing the dart, it hits the balloon right in the center.
"See, you're a pro-"
"Father?" Someone calls, both of us looking away from the booth.
