6. FIELD

FIELD

T he air outside was growing warmer with every passing day, and the dry temperatures made my head dizzy. I should have sat inside at the table with my book, but the sky was a pretty orange color and clear as ever. Once the sun went down, it would be a perfect night for stargazing.

I took a sip of water and set it back on the table beside the porch bench, trying to let the foggy feeling pass without having to call my Mom for help inside. I chewed on my lip, saying a silent prayer that it was temporary nausea from the heat.

With my head in my book, I heard him approach up the driveway and climb the stairs without ever acknowledging his presence.

“Two more papers done.” He set the stack down on the bench next to me. “Let me take you to the fair?”

“No,” I said.

“You love that damn word, say yes,” he chuckled.

“No.” I didn’t look up from the book I was reading, even as he hovered. “If you don’t leave soon, my mother will see you, and you’ll wish you had listened when I told you to go away the first time.”

“Let me take you to the fair, Rae,” he said again and finally, I looked up at him. “ Please .”

Gold danced across those big green eyes, and all I wanted to do was say yes to him. But the school fair? That was one place I wasn’t comfortable. It wasn’t for kids like me. It was loud, bright, and full of people who just saw right through me.

Ryan dropped down into a squat, both of his hands gripping to the bench, effectively caging me in on either side with his arms. “I know exactly what you’re doing inside that pretty little head of yours,” he said, chin tilted toward me. “You’re thinking, I don’t belong at a place like a school fair, that’s for the cool kids, I’m not popular enough or pretty enough.”

I opened my mouth, and he narrowed his eyes.

“But riddle me this,” he said, “why would I want to go to the fair with anyone but the beautiful girl who stole my heart? It seems futile and boring.”

There he went again, using that stupid word like it meant anything to him other than vapid flattery. But his jaw clenched tightly, and his fingers dug into the bench as he waited for my answer.

“I want to take you on the Ferris wheel, Lorraine Field and you can’t stop me.” He added when the silence stretched on for too long.

“It’s—” I said and stopped, “my parents will be there.”

Something similar to insecurity flickered across his expression, an emotion I had never seen before from him. He is usually so confident and unshakable. It was like the day in the parking lot, standing before his dad, just trying to look smaller so the moment of anger would pass.

“Fine,” I said, refusing to use the word yes just to spite him. “But no Ferris wheel, I’m terrified of heights.”

“There’s no way the girl who dances with the stars is afraid of heights,” he said so effortlessly that my mouth fell open, and a sly smirk formed on his face.

“There’s a difference between studying the stars through a telescope and being spun around in the air at sixty feet, Ryan,” I said to him.

“I’ll hold your hand. You’ll be okay.” He said softly and for a split second I believed him. But then I realized that taking his hand wasn’t just for me. It was to steady his own steps as well. I slotted my hand into his and let him pull me from the bench. “I like it when your hair is messy,” he looked at me, now hovering and looking down at me with that same stupid smile that makes my stomach roll with unbridled nerves. “And when you get nervous,” he said quietly, “your cheeks get warm, and your shoulders pin back like you’re trying to stop it from happening.”

There was nothing I could say in response without a jumble of words leaving my mouth that didn’t make any sense. Ryan Cody had me in knots, and I absolutely hated it.

“Are you taking me to the fair or not?” I grumbled, trying to pass off the intense feelings that rumbled through me to my toes.

“Go put a sweater on. It’s supposed to get cold tonight,” he said in a hushed breath.

I hated his stupid tan and freckled skin, his sharp jaw, and bright green eyes, which reminded me of Christmas trees. I pushed back from his gravity, ignoring the undeniable pull of him, and marched inside, closing the door behind me. When I returned, he was standing in the same place I had left him, in his navy blue hoodie, a backward hat that hid the messy strands of dirty blonde hair, and ugly old tattered cowboy boots tucked into his shabby blue jeans. It was such a simple outfit, and for some reason, he looked so handsome. I couldn’t help but smile at him before locking the door behind me.

“You ready, Starlight?” He asked.

The nickname made my breath hitch, “what happened to ‘mouse’?”

“It didn’t suit you, you're not a mouse, you're a star. I didn't know you. Now I do . Chalk it up to human error.” He shrugged. Starlight , I chewed on my bottom lip and begged the nervous sparks to fizzle out.

“So, are you ready?” He asked again.

I wasn’t, I don’t think I ever would be, but saying no would only have him bothering me even more for answers I didn’t have and couldn’t come up with when I was so damn distracted.

“Yeah,” I said instead, “I’m not riding the Ferris wheel.”

“We’ll see,” he said and stepped down the step backward, watching every step I took.

I wanted to tell him how uncomfortable he made me, but I knew it would only make him happy. He wanted me riled up, confused, and blushing, and I hated every second of it. We walked along the pristine pavement toward the large security office and gate of my community. I waved to Roger, who sat reading a comic book with his upper lip covered in pasta sauce. He pressed the button to let us out with that same familiar smile he always had on.

Ryan led me a little ways down before side-stepping with his arms out. " You chariot, my Starlight, " he hummed.

And for the first time, I didn’t want to scold him for the nickname. I enjoyed how it rolled off his tongue and the toothy grin that always seemed to follow it up. My heart swelled at seeing his pickup truck, blue and white paint peeling around the burnt orange rusty tire wells and the crooked rear view mirror in the windshield.

“That’s a death trap,” I offered him a genuine smile.

“Don’t talk about Baby like that,” he huffed, “you’ll hurt her feelings.”

“You named that rust bucket,” I giggled, and Ryan’s head snapped toward me. At first I thought he was mad or offended, but his eyes twinkled, and his brows flinched slightly as his head cocked to the side. “What?” I asked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh,” he said in a hushed tone.

“I laugh all the time,” I argued as he opened the passenger door for me.

“No, you don’t,” he paused before closing the door behind me, his fingers wrapped around the frame as he stared at me with a serious look on his handsome face and his his tone dropped an octave. “I would remember that sound.”

Ryan shut the door before I had time to respond, but I could feel my cheeks turning red again, and I was starting to think about my decision to go to the fair with him. If anyone saw us there, it would be hard to find an excuse for it. Worse, if my parents saw us, I would be in so much trouble I would never hear the end of it.

I slumped into the bucket seat as Ryan started the engine and drove us down the windy hill toward the school. The committee had used the football field to set up despite the football coaches' protests about it ruining the field.

Lights flickered and twinkled in the night air, lighting the center of town up like a firework under the pitch sky. I had never been to the fair, never seen its appeal. The smell of fried foods and sweet, sticky cotton candy in the air combined with the shrill laughter of an overwhelming crowd.

“Take me home,” I panicked a little as he parked.

“Okay,” he said without hesitation, which caused me to turn to him suspiciously. “If you don’t want to be here, Rae, I’m not going to force you,” Ryan said.

“I—” I started and stopped, rubbing my hands over my jeans only for him to catch one of them with his own. I tensed at his sudden touch and looked down as his fingers wrapped around mine.

“I can take you home, and you can show me more stars,” he shrugged like it wasn’t a bother like he hadn’t just dragged me all the way down in excitement. And now, without even a fuss, he was willing to take me all the way home.

“Why would you do that?” My brows furrowed.

“Because you asked,” he said so simply that it felt as though the world had come crashing down around the truck, and there were just the two of us left.

“That’s silly,” I said.

“No, it’s not. It’s polite and…kind, and I'd do just about anything to make sure you're happy,” he argued, untangling our hands and flicking his finger beneath my chin. Tingling livewires surged under my skin from his touch, and I trained my gaze on his. “If you want to go home, I’ll take you home. But,” he licked his bottom lip and leaned over the center of the bench into my space. “I think you’re just scared, and if that’s the case, then please give me a chance to show you how much fun we can have?”

My eyes flickered from him to the blurry lights in the background just beyond. Sickening nerves bubbled up to the surface and threatened to ruin his sweater, but I nodded.

“Yeah?” he said softly, and I nodded again. "That’s my brave little star,” he praised, and for whatever reason, a tiny whimper left me. Whether it was fear or shock, it made him laugh. "Come on, first, you have to eat.”

“Isn’t that a horrible idea before rides?” I asked, finding my voice as he unbuckled my seatbelt and reached over me to pop the door open.

“So innocent,” he mumbled, shooing me out, sliding across the bench and following behind. “Driver-side door doesn’t open from the inside,” he laughed and jumped down onto the pavement beside me.

He walked a few steps before realizing I wasn’t following and stuck his hand out to me, “stay close,” he said, wiggling his fingers at me. Something I noticed he did often, and as childish as it felt at first, it always made me feel comfortable enough to take his hand.

Just as expected, the football field was packed. The rides and booths created narrow paths through the grass that hundreds of bodies funneled through.

“I didn’t even know the town had this many people,” I yelled over the sound of a horn blasting from one of the nearby games.

“Aren’t you the school treasurer?” He looked over his shoulder at me as we weaved through a crowd of people.

“Yeah, but…” I shrugged. The fact that he knew that made the butterflies in my stomach go wild.

“Pretty sure this fair brings in more revenue than all the other school events,” Ryan tugged me out of the way of a girl juggling a bottle of pop and a bear twice her size. “You really have never come?”

“It’s not my thing,” I said. It’s bad enough to feel invisible in the high school hallways, but there was a new level of transparency. It was like I didn’t exist. But with my fingers intertwined with Ryan’s, and his eyes locked in on mine. I wasn’t invisible. Not tonight.

“Popcorn, corn dog, or snow cone?” He asked.

I looked around at my options and sighed. I was usually allowed popcorn, and snow cones were sugary. “Corn dog,” I said, not realizing it was out loud, but a determined smile spread across his face.

“One corn dog coming up,” he shifted his grip and darted through the crowds with me on his tail until we came to a line of carts that wafted with an overwhelming fried dough smell. He ordered one, paid the kid working the booth, and held it out for me.

“What, no mustard?” I looked down at it, and Ryan barked a boisterous laugh that made people stare as the heat rose up my neck. He turned back to the kid and asked for assistance before returning with the corn dog in better shape. “Thank you,” I said quietly, taking a bite of the warm dough.

Ryan stared at me as I sunk my teeth into it, his fingers tapping the napkin wrapped around the tail end of it as I chewed. “So?” He asked.

“It’s delicious,” I licked my lips as he took a bite for himself and groaned with happiness.

“I would have preferred a snow cone,” he laughed and offered me more.

My eyes drifted to the space just behind him, where a group of girls watched my every move with horrible snarls on their pretty faces. My fingers twitched at my sides with nerves as Ryan blissfully enjoyed the corn dog, utterly unaware that we were being observed.

“Ignore them,” he said with a mouth full of hotdog, “they all share one brain.”

Maybe not so unaware.

“It’s a very cruel brain they share to gossip,” I added, my eyes still nervously trained on them.

“They’re just jealous, Starlight,” he mumbled. He gave me the last bite of the corn dog and chucked the garbage. I focused on the girls when he came up behind me and rested his hand on my hip.

My entire body tensed under this grasp as his chin found home on my shoulder, “you picked the snack. I picked the ride.”

“Ryan, I don’t like heights,” I reminded him.

“Have I let you down so far?” He asked, his breath fanning on my cheek as I shook my head no.

“Good, Ferris wheel it is.”