“Okay. Three. But that’s it. I swear. See.” I walk backward in a straight line while reciting the Pledge of Allegiance.
Julian rolls his eyes as he steers me toward the barbecue tent. He stacks our plates to the top with enough food to feed a small family. I can barely eat half of it, although I do guzzle three cups of water to appease him.
My experience with casual relationships might be scarce, but I’m smart enough to know him comforting me like this isn’t standard protocol. Neither is me accepting it without putting up my walls.
I didn’t realize how much I needed to be taken care of until Julian showed me what I was missing, and I’m not sure how to process that information.
Luckily, Julian doesn’t let me get lost in my thoughts as he pulls me away from the food tent. With my stomach full and my head no longer feeling fuzzy from crying and tequila, he leads us toward the opposite side of the festival.
A ringing bell in the distance catches my attention. “Carnival games?”
He stops near a tent and turns to me. “I can’t think of a better way to have a friendly competition.”
“Is there such a thing as far as we are concerned?”
“I suppose not.”
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“Whoever wins the most games is crowned the victor.”
“And what do we get if we win?”
He scratches his cheek. “I don’t plan on letting you win, so I doubt it’ll be much of an issue for you.”
I scoff. “Game on.”
Julian and I pick the tent closest to us, which happens to be one of my old favorites, the ring toss. He swaps a few singles for two sets of rings.
“Good luck.” He passes me the rings.
I roll my eyes and toss my first ring. It hits the side of the glass bottle before falling to the ground.
He goes next and tosses his ring in a way that comes off well-practiced with how it slides down the neck of the bottle perfectly.
My mouth drops open. “How did you get that on the first try?”
“Nico loves this game.”
My eyes narrow. “How many of these games have you played?”
“All of them.”
“You’re a cheat.” I shove his shoulder.
“Don’t be a sore loser.”
“I haven’t lost yet.”
“Emphasis on yet.”
I throw my next ring with a little more force this time. Unlike the last one, it hits the rim of the glass, although it never makes it around the bottle.
Closer.
Julian tosses his next two back-to-back, landing both of them like a show-off.
I turn to face him with a frown. “What do you want if you win?”
“When I win, I’ll let you know.”
Asshole.
Julian and I bounce between tents. Thankfully, he picks games that only require one good arm, although my relief is short-lived as he kicks my butt at the ring toss, the dunk tank, a milk-bottle knockdown game, and a shooting hoops game.
Much to his surprise, I win a game of Skee-Ball, balloon darts, shooting targets, and a match of cornhole.
After drinking some apple cider and snacking on a couple of Coney dogs, we arrive at the final competition with an even score.
“Feeling nervous?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“You’re mighty confident.”
“Because I already know I won.” He guides me toward the last game.
Someone slams the mallet against the plate, and the bell at the top of the high striker game rings like a death knell. This game was Julian’s favorite, so I usually passed on playing it solely because I knew I could never hit the bell like he did.
“I’m down one arm.”
“Is your good one acting up? It wasn’t an issue for the other eight games.”
My eye twitches.
“Do you want to go first?” He offers me the mallet.
“Take it away.” I motion toward the base. Despite knowing I lost, I plan on being a good sport about it and at least trying my hand.
He modifies his grip before slamming the mallet down against the metal base. To no one’s shock, the metal piece shoots up toward the top and smashes into the bell.
“Winner.” The game attendee offers Julian a choice from the wall of plastic toys and stuffed animals.
“Qué lástima,” I say. “It seems like they’re out of blow-up dolls for you.”
He flips me off, making a parent gasp as they walk by.
“Sorry, ma’am.” He looks away with pink-tipped ears.
“Ma’am,” I mimic in that rough, hushed voice of his.
“Shut up and lose already.” He passes me the mallet.
I step up toward the base while adjusting my grip to match Julian’s hold on the mallet. With a deep breath, I swing my arm up before slamming the mallet against the base. The metal piece climbs to the center of the strip, never reaching the bell like Julian did.
“If only I could use both arms.” I glare at the bell.
“That doesn’t matter.”
My eyes roll. “Yeah, right.”
“It’s more about science than strength.”
“Sure.”
“Nico can do it, and he doesn’t have half your power—even with a broken arm.” He passes the carnival worker a ten-dollar bill. “Let me show you.”
“Here.” I pass him the mallet, only for him to shake his head.
“It’s easier if I demonstrate with you.” He steps behind me and places his hands over mine.
Qué lástima: What a pity.
“You want an excuse to touch me.” I speak low enough for only him to hear.
His lips press against my ear as he whispers, “Only because you won’t let me otherwise.” He fixes our hands while ignoring the slight tremble in mine.
“If we smash the plate with all our might”—he swings back with me and whacks the mallet against the base, making the metal piece slide a little higher than mine—“we still won’t hit it.”
“Why?”
“Because you have to hit it just right.”
“All right, Goldilocks. Prove it.”
He repeats the same motion, although this time the mallet hits the center. The metal piece skyrockets to the top and slams into the bell, making it ring.
“See?”
I stick out my tongue. “Show-off.”
He lets go of my hands with a laugh. “Try again and aim for the center.”
I repeat the motion like he taught me. The metal piece climbs higher than before, but it doesn’t hit the bell.
He passes the worker another ten-dollar bill. “Keep going.”
My eyes slide toward the line building behind us. “There are other people who want to try.”
“They can wait.”
I try once more, aiming for the same spot Julian showed me. Although I don’t hit the bell, I’m getting closer.
“Again.” He taps the center of the base. “Right here. Focus more on hitting the target than how hard you hit it.”
“All right.” I follow Julian’s exact instructions to a T, hitting the spot he showed me at the perfect angle with the right amount of strength.
The ring of the bell has me throwing myself into his arms with a huge smile. “I did it!”
He wraps his arms around me, giving me a squeeze, and lifts me up. “You did.”
“I don’t care that I lost the competition.”
“No?”
“Nope! Because that was awesome. I’ve never been able to win that one before.”
“I know.” His eyes shine brighter than the flashing light above us.
A few people around us laugh and clap, reminding me of our audience.
“You can let me down now.”