The Internet is forever. There's no telling if anyone figured out how to download that video. But those aren't the thoughts I want to put in her head right now. Right now, she needs to feel like everything is going to be okay.
She sighs and presses her face back on my chest. Then she shifts, trying to get more comfortable. Then I shift, trying to allow my arm to rest over her shoulder. Finally, I nudge her back and I get to my feet. She looks up at me with swollen eyes and I offer her my hand. She gets to her feet, as well. Once she's up, I give her a hug and she hugs me back tighter than I expected her to.
I tilt my head down until my breathing brings in a lungful of her shampoo. A clean, fruity smell that's intoxicating. Having her body against mine feels so good in selfish ways. Because her pain is fueling something in me that feeds off us being this close. On having her lean on me. On having her tears stain my shirt until the wet fabric cools my skin.
I don't deserve to hold her like this. I know that. I don't deserve to console her because, as much as I want to think I'm a decent enough guy to not want her even now, it's all I can think about. How I can take her mind off everything, the way I enjoy taking my mind off of things. Sweet, dirty distractions on the mattress. But somehow, some shred of decency in me keeps my hand steady at her waist and resists the urge to make a move on her. It would be wrong, of course. She's vulnerable and hurt.
I pull her back slightly until our eyes meet.
"Come on," I say. "Let's go somewhere, you and me. Let's get you out of this house."
Chapter Twenty-Four
Julia
"TRY TO FROWN. JUST TRY." Giles tugs me closer as we walk through the crowd. "You can't, can you?"
I smile despite how emotionally spent I am, my eyes still puffy and the crisp night air stinging them. It's true this place is the physical manifestation of adrenaline. The sights around me are sensory overload.
Loud, energetic pop music from the nearby concert follows as we make our way farther into the fair. Hundreds and hundreds of people around us, walking in all different directions, create their own cacophony of sound the way only a large crowd can.
Huge multicolored signs demand our attention on either side of us. Each booth donning multiple giant lettering advertising things like, bacon cotton candy, bacon wrapped pickles, waffle dogs. All sorts of bizarre food options peeking through between more sensible food items like smoked turkey legs, fried chicken, and BBQ ribs. It's my first time at the San Diego fair and it's clear most people come for the food. Everywhere I look someone is stuffing his or her face with things I don't even recognize as edible.
"Deep fried butter? Donut burger? Why?"
"Why?" Giles asks, giving me an incredulous look. "Because America, that's why. Are you hungry?"
"Um...like, for a deep-fried Twinkie?"
I'm kidding, but his eyes light up at the mention.
"Where? Where'd you see it?"
I point to the booth. "Right next to the bacon wrapped pickles."
He leaves my side for the first time since we entered the fair. The sight of the Ferris wheel distracts me, way off at the end. Multicolored lights in that area suggest that's where all the fair games are. Excitement creeps over me and when I turn to find Giles, he's holding two plates.
"Here," he says, passing me what could only be the deep-fried Twinkie. A long, oblong shape coated in a fried batter. "Don't think, just take a bite."
I take in a breath and bite into it. At first, all I taste is batter, something akin to the coating on breaded chicken, but past the crunchy exterior, I reach the soft cake. There's definitely a Twinkie in there, the creamy filling dominating the aftertaste. "Tastes like a Twinkie chicken nugget, without the chicken."
"Isn't it fucking glorious?" He stuffs the rest of it into his mouth. Smiling at me as he chews his giant mouthful.
I laugh at his enthusiasm. He pushes the second plate under my nose, the sugary scent of the pale tan puff on the plate overwhelming.
"What the hell is that?"
"Bacon cotton candy." When I grimace, he pushes the plate closer to me and adds, "Come on, little leopard. Live a little."
I take some and put it in my mouth, where it melts almost immediately, leaving behind the faintest taste of bacon. "Tastes like...bacon cotton candy," I say, surprised it wasn't completely awful.
We make our way through the food booths. Every once in a while, Giles insists I try something. Until, having had enough bits of random bacon wrapped and deep-fried items, I convince him to split a stack of ribs with me.
"You're really stuffing your face," he says, handing me a napkin.
"Yeah, well, I'm not trying to impress you."
"I'm thoroughly unimpressed."
I look down at my food, reflecting on how good it feels to be out here with him. I enjoy his company in a different way than I would any of my female friends. Looking at him is satisfying, because he's so easy on the eyes. And being able to have a platonic outing with him makes me strangely proud. Makes me feel like we're making the impossible happen. There's no awkwardness of where his hands are, or what I should say. Early on, I let go of any apprehension to his proximity. Because it's clear that he doesn't have any ulterior motives and that he's satisfied enjoying our time together without expectations.
We play the carnival games at the back end of the fairgrounds, and he doesn't try to be cute and let me win. In fact, he crushes me at every single game we play and mocks my lack of coordination. Watching how competitive he is has me laughing harder than I have in a long time. He wins four consecutive stuffed animals and makes a point to not let me hold even one. The guy running the horseshoe game shakes his head at Giles, as if to say he's being a horrible date. But that's the point. This isn't a date and that simple fact is so incredibly liberating.
After a little while, when we take a break to get drinks, the thoughts of what brought us here in the first place creep back in between the sounds and sights of the fair, and I get really quiet. I don't realize until I catch Giles watching me with concern.
"I'm here for you," he says. "If you need anything. If you need me to make the drive north and beat that guy's face into a wall until he apologizes, I will. In a heartbeat."
I almost shudder. The anger that frosts over his features tells me he's dead serious.
"Beating him wouldn't matter," I assure him. "It's done. Now all I can do is be grateful more people--" I clear my throat before continuing "--more people can't see it." Warmth rises to my face and a chill coats my stomach. The contrast leaves me woozy.