Never Got Over You

“Do you make a lot of money doing that?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “I overcharge every man who thinks he’s too rich to work on his own stuff, and I triple charge anyone who comes from Edgewood.”

I laughed, and we moved up a spot in line.

We waited in line, in silence—staring at each other as the minutes flew by. When it was our turn to get on the ride, he ushered me into the cabin first.

We slowly rose high above the town, witnessing the fair’s lights twinkle against the night.

I shivered as winds blew against us, and he took off his jacket—placing it over my shoulders.

When our cabin reached the very top, I leaned against him and he pushed a few stray hairs off my face.

“Do you have a curfew, Kate?” he asked.

“Never. I’m twenty years old.”

“You’re also a Kensington, so I’ll take that as a yes.” He smiled. “What time do you usually have to be in?”

“Three.”

He laughed. “Will you need a ride home tonight?”

“No, my sister and her boyfriend are—” I paused, realizing that Sarah Kay hadn’t texted me since I messaged her about Grant, and I was never getting inside of Grant’s car again. “Yeah, I’ll need a ride home.”

“Noted.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “What do you normally do when you come to the fair?”

“Go to the pageant, grab a lemonade, and leave.”

“I didn’t know there was a pageant here…” He looked genuine. “You don’t grab a funnel cake or play any games before leaving?”

I shook my head. “I usually come alone or with my friend, Grant, but—” I shook my head at the thought of him. “We only stay for ten minutes. This is actually my first time in the past five years getting on a ride, and I’ve never had a funnel cake.”

“I think we should change that tonight,” he said, looking into my eyes. “But whenever you’re ready to leave, let me know.”

I nodded and he pulled me closer, summoning another bout of butterflies. Giving me another dose of what I’d felt on the first night we met.

We remained high in the sky for what felt like forever, and when it was time for us to step off, James helped me to my feet. Grabbing my hand, he led me through the crowd and to a bright yellow funnel cake stand.

I took out my wallet, but he gently pushed my hand away.

“I never let a woman pay for anything,” He looked amused. “Put that up.”

I obliged and he purchased two funnel cakes that were coated with extra powdered sugar.

I fell in love with it the moment it hit my lips, and devoured it in chunks as we walked around the fairgrounds. He stopped at a few ball game stands—winning me a stuffed violin (“close enough to a cello”) and a bouquet of candy lollipops in the process.

As the evening neared midnight, I asked him to get me one more funnel cake and one last ride on the Ferris Wheel.

When we made it to his truck, he opened the passenger door and motioned for me to get in.

“Wait,” I said, looking into his eyes. “I need to say something before you take me home. Like, we need to make sure we’re on the same page.”

He raised his eyebrow.

“Since my last break up, I promised myself that I would make sure I got exactly what I wanted whenever I started dating someone new.”

“We’re dating now?” He smirked. “I could’ve sworn I just met you a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh.” I blushed. “Well, right. Sorry for assuming. I just thought—”

His laughter made me stop mid-sentence. “I’m listening…Tell me what you want.”

“I honestly prefer talking on the phone over nonstop texting,” I admitted, realizing that I’d never been this upfront with any of the guys I’d previously dated. “I won’t call you that much, since apparently that comes off as ‘needy’ these days, but that’s what I like.”

“You can call me whenever you want.” He stepped a bit closer. “I’ll answer.”

“I want you to come to at least one of my local recitals a month, if you can.” I expected him to balk immediately, but he smiled. “I have one every week, so I don’t think one every few weeks is a big deal.”

“Anything else?”

“No.” I shook my head. “What about you? Any lessons learned from previous relationships?”

“No, just a few numbers. Two, six, and zero.”

Before I could ask him what he was talking about, he pressed his lips against mine—silencing me in a way that only his kisses could. He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me closer, kissing me deeper.

As I moaned against his mouth—begging him to take this further, he whispered against my lips. “Two is the number of hours we have left together tonight before I have to take you home, the number of hours I’d rather spend doing this, and not talking but that’s up to you.” He pulled me to him again, kissing me so deeply, that I lost my breath.