Once Lindsay is securely in the truck, I shut the door, jogging around the front and hopping into the driver’s seat. “We’re headed to the fall festival, if that sounds okay with you,” I answer her question from before.
“Sounds perfect,” she agrees. “I’ve been wanting to make it over, but didn’t know when I’d be able to.”
“Well, I’m glad it worked out, then.” I chuckle.
We make small talk on the fifteen-minute drive over to the fairgrounds. With the nice weather, the festival is packed, especially with it being a Saturday night. I follow the signs to where parking is available, and we make our way up to the gates. I grab our tickets, and away we go.
“What are you in the mood to eat first?” I ask, placing my hand on Lindsay’s back as we walk through the crowds.
She laughs. “I like how you specified first, like you already know we won’t be indulging in just one thing tonight.”
“It just isn’t possible to come here and not eat your way through the place. Isn’t that what fairs are all about?” I ask, leaning in a bit closer to talk next to her ear, so she’s sure to hear me. With the growing crowds, it’s a little hard to hear one another.
“Gah!” she exclaims, holding her hand up in the air. “I don’t know what to pick, let's do a lap around, and then we can decide; how’s that sound?” she asks, leaning right back into me.
“Like the perfect plan,” I confirm. I slide my hand into hers, linking our fingers together as we walk around, checking things out. We each point out booths we want to check out at some point, but right now, we’re on a mission to figure out our food game plan.
8
Lindsay
“I don’t think I can eat one more bite,” I tell Tucker as I push the basket of fresh curly fries closer to him. “I’m stuffed.”
“Well, in your defense, we have eaten our way through this place.” He snags another curly fry and drags it through the puddle of ketchup before popping it into his mouth. “But I agree, I’m done.” He gathers what's left and tosses them in one of the large barrel trash cans set up around the tables.
“Want to go find a drink and go listen to music, or we could go grab some ride tickets and go up on the Ferris wheel,” he suggests.
“I absolutely hate heights,” I warn him. “So, I’m not sure you’d want to take me up on that thing.”
“Oh, come on, it isn’t that bad, plus, you’d have me to hold on to.” He winks at me.
“You make a tempting argument, but I’m still not sure about getting on that thing.”
“We can think about it, maybe go up once the sun fully sets, and all the lights come on.”
“I’ll think about it.” I give him that, at least. The idea of snuggling close to him is very tempting, but the thought of losing the contents of my stomach all over him is definitely not.
“All right, let's go find a drink or two and then head over to the stage and listen to the music.”
“Sounds perfect,” I agree and stand from the picnic table. I toss the napkin I was holding, then slide my hand into Tucker's outstretched one. He’s held my hand most of the evening, and I can admit that I like the feeling.
We find the beer tent, and he grabs two. He’s insisted on paying for everything tonight, not that I expect it, at all. He almost glared at me once, when I attempted to pull out my wallet when I was buying a funnel cake earlier.
“I see an open space over there,” I tell him, pointing at an empty section on the bleachers.
“Lead the way, beautiful,” he comments, handing over one of the beers and then linking our fingers back together. I walk with him right on my heels until we reach the area. He waits to sit down until I take a seat, choosing to sit on the bench directly behind me. Once seated, he pulls me back until my back is against his front. I melt into him, enjoying the contact our bodies are making. His warmth seeps through my T-shirt but sends tingles of awareness down my spine.
We sway along to the music as we sit here, drinking our beers and just enjoying the entertainment on stage. This festival always brings in such amazing local talent, my cousin used to play this very stage each and every year until she made it big after winning the TV show she was on.
By the time the current band finished up, the sun has finally set, and the grounds are lit up by all the neon lights from the booths and the rides. We make our way out of the grandstand and back into the rows of booths. “What do you say about that Ferris wheel now?” Tucker asks, pulling me to a stop in front of him as we stand off to the side of the crowd of people. He’s tucked his fingers into two of the belt loops on my jeans and pulled me in close. I place a palm against his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart against my fingers. I suck my bottom lip in between my teeth, biting it as I contemplate his offer. Here I am, twenty-six years old, out on a first date and pondering something that I probably had to consider when I was sixteen and at this very fair with my high school boyfriend at the time.
Tucker cups my cheek, his thumb sliding across my lip, pulling my bottom lip from my teeth. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he says, his words a promise to protect me.
“Okay, let's do it,” I tell him, finally giving in. The look of shock on his face tells me that he really didn’t think that I’d go for it.
“Let’s go!” he bellows, then tugs me toward the ticket booth. The crowds are thick, mostly with teenagers out after dark and enjoying the fun this Saturday night has brought to our ordinary sleepy town. It takes us a few minutes to get up to the booth, but once we do, Tucker buys enough tickets for us to go on the one ride.
“Have you ever gone on this?” Tucker asks once we’re in line for the Ferris wheel.
“Once, I was sixteen. I hated every second of it and ended up puking when we got off. So be warned now that this might not end well,” I warn, those thoughts of doubt creeping back in.
“I’ll hold your hair back for you if that happens. Puke doesn’t phase me one bit. Either does blood,” he quips.
“You might not be saying that when it's in your lap,” I deadpan.
“Still wouldn’t be the worst thing that has happened to me. Do you not remember what I do for a living?”
“Fight fires and rescue kittens out of trees for little old ladies?” I quip.
“Yeah, we’ll go with that answer.” He laughs as we move closer to the front of the line.
“Do you enjoy your job?” I ask.
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t want to do anything else. I dreamed of following in my dad's footsteps since I understood what it was he did every day.”
“It's good to have such passion for your job.”
“What about you? Do you enjoy working in the ER?”
“I love it. Like you, I knew from an early age that I wanted to help people, and nursing just kind of worked. I didn’t really know what department or specialty I wanted to work in until I started clinicals. The ER is like nothing else. The constant changing, you never know what you’re going to get kind of atmosphere keeps you on your toes and moving. Very rarely do we ever have much downtime, and the shifts we do, it’s almost like the calm before the storm. None of us like it when that happens because it's usually followed by complete chaos.”