The truck hit a pothole with a bang, and Paul slammed on the brakes. Celia tipped forward, and he instinctively reached his hand out and grabbed onto her upper arm to keep her from hitting the dash. She was sitting right next to him, having scooted to the middle seat when she climbed in—a huge deal that was making it hard to concentrate on the road.
“Sorry,” he said. “That pothole came out of nowhere.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Malcolm,” she said, and smiled, before glancing where his hand still rested on her arm.
He slid his hand down her arm and left it on her knee. He could feel the energy rolling off her. It was pent up inside her, building inside him. They’d burst if they spent much longer in the tiny cab of this truck. With some effort, he removed his hand and placed it back on the steering wheel.
“I think I know where you’re taking me,” she said, scooting to the edge of the seat. “The Bakerstown Pumpkin Festival.” She pointed to the right. “I see the orange lights.”
He smiled. “Have you been before?”
“Once. We went when I was really little. I remember Abe was a toddler, so I must have been about five. I don’t remember much, but I remember pumpkin flavored cotton candy and those orange lights.”
Paul parked the truck along a side street several blocks away from the activity. “Do you mind a short walk? I figure there’s less chance for somebody dinging Malcolm’s truck if I park farther away from everybody else.”
“I don’t mind.”
He stepped out and went to shut the door, planning to step around the other side and open Celia’s door for her, but when he turned to close it, there she was, slipping off the seat and standing two inches in front of him.
Frozen in place, he swallowed, making an audible gulp. He couldn’t even be embarrassed, because of the way she looked up at him. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was so silky and soft. “You sure are short.”
“No, you’re just tall.” They stared at each other for a few breaths, until she broke the spell by reaching out and grabbing the hem of his shirt with one hand and twisting it, turning his body toward the festival. “Now let’s get moving. I want to buy you some pumpkin cotton candy.”
Paul closed the truck door behind them, careful to lock it and tuck the keys deep into his pocket.
“People have been talking about this at Heidi’s,” Celia said. “I think there’s a live band.”
“Yeah, but it’s probably just a country music cover band.”
“That’s okay. Country or not, live music is always nice.” A small smile danced around her lips.
His hand brushed hers as they walked. She didn’t step away, so he made sure it happened again. He heard her pull in a breath when it did. Instantly, he wrapped his hand around her fingers. His guts twisted and jumped at the contact, and he felt like if the night ended right here, he’d be a happy man.
They walked in silence for an entire block, their joined hands swinging slightly and doing all the talking. He tried to get used to the sparks jumping around his palm. Surely she had to be feeling this, too. It seemed like one person couldn’t feel it unless the other one did. “Your fingers are cold. You want my flannel?”
She glanced up quickly, then back down at her feet. “No, that’s okay. My sweater’s fine for now. My fingers and toes are always cold, just ask Fay. She says it’s just part of being an ice queen.”
He chuckled. “You just wish you were an ice queen.”
“Oh? You think you know me better than I know myself?” Her tone was light, playful, so he kept going.
“I know what you want people to believe, because you want to keep them at arm’s length.”
“Exactly. That’s what an ice queen does. No one dares approach.”
“I dare.” He squeezed her hand, and tugged on her arm, pulling her closer to him.
They turned down a main street, and the lights and sounds increased in intensity by tenfold. Everything was orange. Pumpkins were piled up all over the place. A large crowd was gathered around a stage that held a band playing an old Kenny Loggins song. Food vendors lined the street, long lines at the windows of each one. A group of young kids ran past, their faces painted orange and their eyes and noses painted in black triangles.
“You want to get your face painted?” he asked.
“Maybe. I’m up for anything. It’s a little cheesy here, but tonight I’m into it.” She shrugged.
Without thinking about it, he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. Her hair was warm under his lips, and smelled like vanilla. He pulled away to look at her, nervous he had taken too much liberty, but she smiled and pulled on his hand. “Come on, I see some games we should play.”
She pulled him into the crowd, the air thick with the smell of sugar and apples and pumpkin spice everything. He followed along like the puppy she said he was, hoping it was true she needed a softer man, rather than a tough one. When it came to her, he wasn’t tough at all. He was human cotton candy—easily pulled, easily dissolved.
She stopped in front of the pumpkin bowling booth, and they waited in line, hands linked the entire time. When it was their turn, she let go of his hand and stepped behind him. “You go first.”
The game attendant, a great-grandpa by the looks of it, plopped a small pumpkin in his hand, while a child set up the pins. Paul stepped closer to Celia and lifted the hem of her shirt about an inch, and then pressed the cold rind of the pumpkin to the soft skin of her belly. She shrieked and jumped back, before swatting his arm. “Paul, you’re nothing but trouble.” But she said it smiling.
“It’s a good thing you’re always up for a little trouble,” he said, looking right in her eyes, then he turned and tossed the pumpkin, bowling a strike.
Celia threw up her hands. “Oh great. I’ll never hear the end of this.”
The young boy set up the pins and retrieved the pumpkin, handing it to Celia.
She rolled the pumpkin hard, and it went way off to the side, hitting the straw bales by the next booth. Paul shook his head in mock despair. “A gutter pumpkin!”
She laughed and tried again, managing to hit two pins that time. “Fine, you win at this. Your reward will be pumpkin cotton candy.”
They meandered through the crowd to the food truck with the huge signs boasting about their world-class pumpkin spice cotton candy. Suspiciously, there was no line. Paul pulled out his wallet.
“Let me buy it, Paul. Loser buys. And it’s basically you buying it anyway, with the way you over-tip.”
“I do not over-tip. You earn every penny I leave for you.”
“You gave me a ten dollar bill for a glass of tea the other day.”
“You gave me three refills.”
“Refills are free.”
“Yeah, but bugging Heidi comes at a cost. And I was on her last nerve—teasing her about her pants. You know the ones she wears with the yellow flowers all over? I bet I put her in a bad mood, which you had to put up with. You earned it, trust me.”
She pulled a crumpled ten dollar bill out of her purse, and ordered the cotton candy, placing the bill on the counter. They took the bag over to an empty straw bale near the edge of all the activity. A quiet town street glowed behind them, and in front of them, kids ran around in costumes, most with pumpkin faces.
Celia removed the twist-tie from the bag and reached in and grabbed a hunk of orange fluff. “Now taste this.”
He took the candy from her and shoved it in his mouth. It tasted like shit. All fake pumpkin and way too sweet. To be fair, he didn’t much care for cotton candy in general. He coughed.
She sighed. “You don’t like it.”
Wiping his watery eyes, he kept coughing. “I’m just choking on the awesomeness,” he managed to squeak out.
“Whatever. More for me, then.” She took a huge bite, moaning and rolling her eyes back, being quite dramatic in showing him how delicious it was.
When the taste wasn’t so strong in his mouth, he pointed across the street. “Now there’s something worth eating. A caramel apple. Hey, I can even win one if I win the apple-on-a-string game.”
“I know a good trick to that game.” She closed up her bag of cotton candy and they crossed over to the tent where the caramel apples were. On one side, about ten apples hung from strings, dangling off a lattice on the ceiling of the tent.
A kind-eyed woman walked over to explain the rules. “You have to keep both hands off the apple and off the string, and try to bite into the apple. If you can get one good chunk off the apple, you get to pick a free caramel apple of your choice.”
“Is teamwork allowed?” Celia asked.
“Teamwork is encouraged, just as long as you don’t use your hands.” She winked at Celia before approaching a group of kids entering the tent.
“Are you going to use your feet? Because I’m not sure how I feel about that,” Paul said. Celia poked him in the side.
He looked over the selection of apples, and walked to the highest one, which was still too low. He slouched down and Celia laughed at his bent knees and hunched back.
“I think they intended this game to be played by kids,” she said, and patted him on the head.
She had touched him more tonight than she had in their whole lives. Each touch piled onto the last one, spiraling up into a frenzy in his brain.
“I have six whole months left until I’m officially an adult.” He tilted his head to the side and went at the apple, mouth wide and mission clear. It crashed into his teeth and rolled around the side of his face. He tried again, and it rolled away again. Thinking he was clever, he ducked down really low and tried to come at it from the bottom. No dice.
Celia chuckled. “You know, it would be easier to just buy a caramel apple. I’d even buy one for you, since the cotton candy didn’t work out.”
“Buy one when I could win one? Never!”
“Whatever.”
He stood up straight and grinned at her. “Am I embarrassing you, Celia?” His voice danced. He loved embarrassing her.
“Not a bit. It’s just clear that you have no idea what you’re doing.” She set her purse and the bag of cotton candy off to the side and stood directly in front of Paul. “What we have to do is work together.”
She reached out both hands, and gripped his upper arms. He flexed his biceps under her palms, to try and make her smile. It worked, but she also rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a showoff.” She gripped his arms tighter and leaned in. “We have to try to pin it between our mouths.”
He looked into her serious eyes and felt her strong hands grip his arms. Her words were like a soft breath on the spark between them, giving it more life, blowing it higher. So near the flame, Paul burned. He leaned in close to the apple. She leaned in closer, too. Only an apple and a few inches separated their mouths.
“Okay, I’ll steady it for you. When I blink, that’s when you go for it.” He didn’t miss her eagerness, her intention to win this game.
She set her mouth gently on the apple, and as it began to sway away from her, he put his lips against the other side. When it stopped swaying, she blinked hard, and he pressed his teeth against the apple skin. Her eyes popped open and they gleamed with triumph when she thought he’d gotten a grip on the apple. He couldn’t help but smile, which caused the apple to slip from his lips and swing away, surprising them both.
Momentum kept their heads moving forward, and their mouths collided in the space of the missing apple. Her hands tightened on his arms, and for a second, neither of them moved. Her eyes fluttered closed. Crouched there like that—the feeling of her soft lips beneath his, her black eyelashes fanning across her cheeks, children around them lunging their faces at swinging apples—he felt certain he had lifted off earth and gone to a different planet. He brought his hands up to cradle her face. Just as he was about to close his eyes, she stood up straight, separating their lips with a pop.
He straightened too, heart hammering in his chest. The sounds of the festival faded to blurry white noise, and everything in his peripheral vision spun. The only thing in clear focus was Celia’s face. She hadn’t dropped her hands, and when he saw her throat move as she swallowed, staring up at him with wide open eyes, he moved his hands to her neck. She took a step toward him at the same time he took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. He lifted her chin up and pressed his lips against hers again.
He forced himself to keep it quick. They were in public with kids around, for one thing. For another, he didn’t want to get this wrong, not with her. He sucked in a breath and pulled away from her, his thumb caressing her jaw in a silent question. She didn’t run away. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t even look away.