She elbowed me in the ribs, laughing hysterically, “That’s pretty lame, Peter.”
“It is. But it’s true,” I told her, dropping my half-smoked cigarette to my feet. I removed my jean jacket and draped it over her shoulders, lifting her gorgeous curls out of the way.
We strolled around the fair grounds with no particular direction in mind. Briana had her finger wrapped around my pinkie. She was holding a teddy bear against her heart. The toy was proof that I was unlike the Tin Man and still a well-oiled machine. Even the guy at the booth was impressed. He had handed me a brown bear with a pink bow tie and when I gave it to her, she snatched it and held it to her breast like a child. Her kiss proved she was all woman, though.
She seemed to glow underneath the moonlight. Men strode past her, craning their necks behind them for a second look until their wives or girlfriends voiced their displeasure. It was only our fourth date, but I felt confident in the fact that we had something special between us.
“Oh, look! The Bumper Cars! Can we?”
“I don’t know. Can you drive?”
“Yes, I can drive,” she said, her tone firm. “Besides, it’s not like real driving. Come on.”
She pulled me behind her and we stood in line, waiting our turn.
“I’m having a great time, tonight.”
“I’m glad. So am I. You look beautiful, you know.”
She blushed and pecked me on the cheek. A young couple stood in front of us, holding each other at the waist.
“How old do you think they are?” Briana whispered in my ear.
“I don’t know. Sixteen, maybe?” I whispered back.
“I think so too,” she said, speaking a little louder. “I never dated at that age.”
A strong breeze made me shiver. Briana leaned into me and wrapped her arm around my waist just like the couple in front of us. I inched my arm around her slim middle and together, standing in line for a carnival ride, I felt that illogical feeling of resentment that comes with knowing that we had found each other too late in life. We were both in our thirties and although we were still young, I wished that our past could have threaded itself so that we had found each other sooner. I needed a time-machine.
“Why are you frowning?”
“Hmm? Oh, I’m not. Sorry, B.”
We moved forward with the line, “Yes, you were. Spill it, Peter.”
“I was just thinking that I wish I had found you before now, that’s all.”
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t even grunt. My vulnerability reared its ugly head. Finally, her lips parted, “That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Yes, it is. But you know what? We have the future and that’s more than other people get.”
“I guess you’re right.”
She hugged me, with Teddy between us, “Of course I’m right! So stop frowning, it’s our turn!”
The guy at the gate let us through. We each found a car and stared each other down like Formula 1 drivers. She slid her arms in the sleeves of my jacket and put Teddy in her lap. I was going to let her win, but my competitive nature got the best of me. A half dozen other drivers were set to bump us into oblivion. It was great fun. For a few seconds, at least. We all met in the middle, unable to move and maneuver ourselves free. Briana was across from me, oozing sexiness by simply sitting there, and I cursed the damn ride for putting that much space between us.
APR/MAY 2018 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
Barbara Avon is a multi-genre Author. She has written since she was young, pursuing her dreams and vowing to write for as long as she can. She has worked at several different media publications and will continue to publish novels until “her pen runs dry”. In 2018 she won FACES Magazine's "Best of Ottawa" award for female Author and Spillwords "Author of the Month". She believes in paying it forward and you can read about this belief as the theme is given voice in most of her books. Avon lives in Ontario, Canada with her husband, Danny, their tarantula, Betsy, and their houseplant, Romeo.