The Ending I Want
Page 37
I smile back at him—at least, the best I can with my lips that have been g-forced to my face.
I feel happy and free. I feel alive.
The shock of those words reverberates around inside me. Like a ball spinning around a moving roulette wheel.
I feel alive.
For the first time in a really long time, I feel alive.
And it’s because of him.
I’m smiling and laughing and doing something that scares the crap out of me.
I’m living because of Liam.
And that thought alone brings with it a whole new brand of fear in me. A fear that terrifies me in a way that I have never known before.
“You really suck at this.” I laugh, putting cotton candy in my mouth—or candy floss, as they call it here.
Liam bought it for me when we passed the last food booth. I needed sugar. The choice of cotton candy was blue or pink or both. I chose both. I’ve already eaten all the blue. I’m onto the pink now, which is pretty close to my hair color.
I lick the cotton candy off my sticky fingers.
Liam gives me a dirty look. “If you think you can do any better, then, by all means, try.” He holds out a ball to me.
He’s playing a game called Knock ’Em Down, which is basically nine cans stacked up into a pyramid—four at the bottom, three in the middle, and two on the top. You have to knock the cans down by hitting them with a ball, and if you knock off the two top rows, you win a medium prize. Knock all the cans down, and you get a big prize.
Sounds simple, huh? Apparently, it’s not.
I’ve sat this game out¸ so I can eat my cotton candy.
But we played darts and Bull’s Eye, which is basically archery and you had to hit the bull’s-eye to win. And we played a shooting game where you have a pellet rifle and you have to hit a playing card with a pellet. I was especially bad at that.
But, so far, we haven’t won a thing, and I really want a stuffed animal. Something to keep. A keepsake of this day with him.
But then what’s the point? It’s not like I’ll get to keep it for long.
Even still, I want one.
Tucking my sad thoughts away, I put my bag of cotton candy under my arm and hold my hands up. “My hands are sticky from the cotton candy.”
“Excuses, excuses.”
I stick my tongue out at him.
“Your tongue is blue from the candy floss.” Liam chuckles.
I lean in close to him and whisper into his ear, “Well, if you’re a good boy and win me a prize, I’ll lick your cock with my blue tongue.”
I lean back a little, staring into his eyes, which are currently dark and lusty.
“Deal,” he growls, sending shivers hurtling through me.
I move back to my standing spot and watch him get back to the game.
He picks up a ball and throws it. Hits the edge of a can, but it doesn’t go down.
Guess he doesn’t want a blow job.
“I’m sure these cans are fucking glued down,” he says in a low growly voice, making me laugh.
“I don’t think they are. I’m pretty sure that’s illegal. You just have a weak arm, Hunter, and your aim sucks.”
That earns me a dirty look.
I love winding him up. Seeing him flustered and off his game like this…it’s fun.
“You seriously used to play rugby in college?” I tease.
Liam told me that he used to play rugby. It was how he broke his nose—twice apparently. Men and sports—I’ll never understand it.
“How did you ever manage to throw a touchdown?”
“You don’t have touchdowns in rugby.” He grits his teeth, so his words come out in single syllables. “It’s called a try, and the position I played, was Winger, and it mostly required me to run fast and score a try.”
“Good job. Otherwise, you’d have lost a lot. Did you lose a lot?” I grin.
He flips me the bird. I laugh.
He exhales through his nose, which makes him sound like an angry bull. That makes me laugh harder.
Ignoring me, he pivots and sets up to throw his last ball.
He’s managed to knock the top two off, so he only has seven more cans to go.
Seven cans and one ball. I don’t see it happening, but if he manages to knock the next three off, he’ll win a prize—meaning, I win a prize.
Thing is, he only has one ball left, and his aim is appalling.
Sheer concentration is on his face.
Leaning over, I tilt my head to the side in front of him.
“What?” he grumbles without looking at me.
“You’re totally pulling your sex face right now.”
He frowns. “I don’t have a sex face.”
“You so do. Just as you’re coming, your face looks…well, just like it does right now.” I gesture a hand to his face.
“Stop trying to put me off with sex talk. Back the fuck off, Boston, and let me throw my ball.”
I splutter out a laugh. He almost cracks a smile.
“Sorry. Please continue.” I flutter a hand at him and move away.
His sex face is back. I stifle a giggle.
Liam draws his arm back and throws.
And misses.
I clamp my hand over my face to stop from laughing.
He’s scowling at me. “That was your fault.”
I move my hand from my mouth. “How was that my fault?”
“You talk about sex, and I get distracted.”
“Okay.” I give a contrite look. “Have another turn. My treat.”
“So, you can take the piss out of me. No thanks.”
“Aw, come on. I want a stuffed animal.”
“I’ll buy you one.”
I give him a look of disgust. “You can’t bring a girl to a carnival and then buy her a stuffed animal. You have to win it.”
I feel happy and free. I feel alive.
The shock of those words reverberates around inside me. Like a ball spinning around a moving roulette wheel.
I feel alive.
For the first time in a really long time, I feel alive.
And it’s because of him.
I’m smiling and laughing and doing something that scares the crap out of me.
I’m living because of Liam.
And that thought alone brings with it a whole new brand of fear in me. A fear that terrifies me in a way that I have never known before.
“You really suck at this.” I laugh, putting cotton candy in my mouth—or candy floss, as they call it here.
Liam bought it for me when we passed the last food booth. I needed sugar. The choice of cotton candy was blue or pink or both. I chose both. I’ve already eaten all the blue. I’m onto the pink now, which is pretty close to my hair color.
I lick the cotton candy off my sticky fingers.
Liam gives me a dirty look. “If you think you can do any better, then, by all means, try.” He holds out a ball to me.
He’s playing a game called Knock ’Em Down, which is basically nine cans stacked up into a pyramid—four at the bottom, three in the middle, and two on the top. You have to knock the cans down by hitting them with a ball, and if you knock off the two top rows, you win a medium prize. Knock all the cans down, and you get a big prize.
Sounds simple, huh? Apparently, it’s not.
I’ve sat this game out¸ so I can eat my cotton candy.
But we played darts and Bull’s Eye, which is basically archery and you had to hit the bull’s-eye to win. And we played a shooting game where you have a pellet rifle and you have to hit a playing card with a pellet. I was especially bad at that.
But, so far, we haven’t won a thing, and I really want a stuffed animal. Something to keep. A keepsake of this day with him.
But then what’s the point? It’s not like I’ll get to keep it for long.
Even still, I want one.
Tucking my sad thoughts away, I put my bag of cotton candy under my arm and hold my hands up. “My hands are sticky from the cotton candy.”
“Excuses, excuses.”
I stick my tongue out at him.
“Your tongue is blue from the candy floss.” Liam chuckles.
I lean in close to him and whisper into his ear, “Well, if you’re a good boy and win me a prize, I’ll lick your cock with my blue tongue.”
I lean back a little, staring into his eyes, which are currently dark and lusty.
“Deal,” he growls, sending shivers hurtling through me.
I move back to my standing spot and watch him get back to the game.
He picks up a ball and throws it. Hits the edge of a can, but it doesn’t go down.
Guess he doesn’t want a blow job.
“I’m sure these cans are fucking glued down,” he says in a low growly voice, making me laugh.
“I don’t think they are. I’m pretty sure that’s illegal. You just have a weak arm, Hunter, and your aim sucks.”
That earns me a dirty look.
I love winding him up. Seeing him flustered and off his game like this…it’s fun.
“You seriously used to play rugby in college?” I tease.
Liam told me that he used to play rugby. It was how he broke his nose—twice apparently. Men and sports—I’ll never understand it.
“How did you ever manage to throw a touchdown?”
“You don’t have touchdowns in rugby.” He grits his teeth, so his words come out in single syllables. “It’s called a try, and the position I played, was Winger, and it mostly required me to run fast and score a try.”
“Good job. Otherwise, you’d have lost a lot. Did you lose a lot?” I grin.
He flips me the bird. I laugh.
He exhales through his nose, which makes him sound like an angry bull. That makes me laugh harder.
Ignoring me, he pivots and sets up to throw his last ball.
He’s managed to knock the top two off, so he only has seven more cans to go.
Seven cans and one ball. I don’t see it happening, but if he manages to knock the next three off, he’ll win a prize—meaning, I win a prize.
Thing is, he only has one ball left, and his aim is appalling.
Sheer concentration is on his face.
Leaning over, I tilt my head to the side in front of him.
“What?” he grumbles without looking at me.
“You’re totally pulling your sex face right now.”
He frowns. “I don’t have a sex face.”
“You so do. Just as you’re coming, your face looks…well, just like it does right now.” I gesture a hand to his face.
“Stop trying to put me off with sex talk. Back the fuck off, Boston, and let me throw my ball.”
I splutter out a laugh. He almost cracks a smile.
“Sorry. Please continue.” I flutter a hand at him and move away.
His sex face is back. I stifle a giggle.
Liam draws his arm back and throws.
And misses.
I clamp my hand over my face to stop from laughing.
He’s scowling at me. “That was your fault.”
I move my hand from my mouth. “How was that my fault?”
“You talk about sex, and I get distracted.”
“Okay.” I give a contrite look. “Have another turn. My treat.”
“So, you can take the piss out of me. No thanks.”
“Aw, come on. I want a stuffed animal.”
“I’ll buy you one.”
I give him a look of disgust. “You can’t bring a girl to a carnival and then buy her a stuffed animal. You have to win it.”
