Page 93 of Perfectly Us
“Do you want me to win you a teddy bear?” Shiloh asks, his breath tickling my lips. “People do that at these things, right?”
“Only if I can win one for you too.”
“Deal.”
Hand in hand, we walk down the path toward the tents with the games. The sun has fully set, and I glance around at the flashing neon lights from the rides. Distant screams of exhilaration reach my ears, followed by the clickity clack as the cart of people moves along the roller-coaster track. The smell of grilling burgers, funnel cakes, and popcorn wafts in the air from the various food trucks.
The carnival at night is so atmospheric. Romantic.
Shiloh pops balloons with darts and wins me a stuffed T-Rex, and I play the game where you knock down bottles with a ball to win him a dog plushie. It has big, droopy eyes and even droopier ears, like a hound dog.
“Are you ready for classes to start on Monday?” he asks after we buy a funnel cake and sit at a table beside the Tilt-A-Whirl to eat it.
Stuffing my face with fried, powdered sugar awesomeness, I nod. “Worst part will be having college algebra first thing in the morning three days a week. I might die.”
“No, you won’t,” Shiloh says, laughing. He reaches over and wipes the corner of my mouth with a napkin. It’s scratchy against my skin, but I don’t care. I’m too focused on how happy Shiloh looks. How at ease he is. “You’ll love college like a good little student.”
“I’m kinda sad. I’ll have to cut back my hours at the theater to weekends only. Ruben’s quitting altogether. His class load is a lot heavier than mine.” I look around, watching people pass by our table. It feels like a weight’s on my chest, small but noticeable. “Summer is almost over. The last summer before adulthood really begins. It didn’t really sink in until now. Everything’s about to change.”
“Every end is a new beginning.”
I meet Shiloh’s sapphire blue eyes. “You think so?”
“Change is scary,” he says. “But think of all the new opportunities you’ll have. New experiences. The life you knew is coming to a close, but so much more is about to begin.”
I sense there’s something he’s not saying. The worry in his eyes is fleeting though.
After we eat—with me eating over half of the funnel cake—we toss the paper plate into the trash and walk through the lit-up attractions, my dinosaur plush tucked under my arm as my other hand finds his.
“Want to go in there?” I ask, stopping in front of the fun house. Red-and-white wheels spin in circles on the outside, and there’s a huge clown face in the center, its machine mouth opening and closing as creepy carnival music plays.
Shiloh frowns at the ride.
“Fear of clowns?” I ask.
“The hall of mirrors,” he answers. “I got lost in one when I was a kid. I panicked big-time.” His blue eyes shift to me, and his frown deepens. “I’m sorry. I’m no fun.”
I stand on my tiptoes and plant a kiss on his lips. Tension leaves him as he returns the kiss, deepens it.
“I think you’re fun,” I say, gliding the tips of our noses together. “That ride is boring anyway.”
“Then why do you sound so disappointed?” Shiloh sighs and pulls back, his gaze sweeping toward the fun house, then over to the rides on the other side of us. “How about a compromise?”
“What kind of compromise?” I link our fingers as we start walking again.
“I’ll take you on the Ferris wheel.”
“But you’re afraid of heights.” I turn to him. “I don’t want you doing something you’re not comfortable with. That would make me feel shitty.”
“I want to,” Shiloh says. “Dr. Larson said it’s okay to be afraid. But it’s good to face those fears sometimes too. Do one thing every day that scares me, no matter how small it might be to other people. Texting you back that first time, going to Ruben’s party, they’re things that scared me too. Facing those fears led me here, to this moment with you.” He smiles down at our joined hands. “And I’ve never been happier.”
My heart swells. Thrums faster. “Me either.”
Once we’re on the Ferris wheel, the bar over our laps, Shiloh shakily inhales and starts to tense up. I grab his hand and scoot closer to him on the seat. The conductor moves the cars up, loading each one with people, and then he starts the ride.
Music plays as we go round and round, multicolored lights on the frame of the wheel dancing in my vision.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
