A Date for the Fair (The Dating 8)

Once the signal changes, I turn and head toward Laura’s apartment. I’m thankful she lives so close to the school and to me for that matter. As soon as I pull into the parking lot, I find a spot and park. I’m about to shut off the engine when I see her emerge. This is the moment when I can watch her without looking like a stalker or a creepy professor eyeing his way too hot student. Laura’s wearing blue shorts, probably denim if I had to guess. They don’t look like the shorty short shorts she used to wear back in the day, but they’re similar and they show off her long legs. She descends the stairs and I catch the slight sway of her hips. I swallow hard as she approaches. I think I like this older Laura.

As soon as her T-shirt comes into view, I laugh and shake my head. There’s a slice of watermelon on her shirt and it reads, “Y’all gonna make me lose my rind.” I’m so enthralled with her shirt that I completely forget to get out and open her door for her.

“I’m sorry,” she says just as I blurt out, “Shit.”

“Sorry, I should’ve opened the door for you.”

Laura laughs and hops into the Jeep. “I’m fully capable of opening the door. Besides, I saw you checking out my melons… I mean melon.” She looks down at her shirt, blushing. She’s right, I was.

We make small talk as I drive us to the fairgrounds. Laura catches me up on her parents and I tell her about mine. Both sets seem to be fairing the same: living the retired life. We avoid her divorce and my ex, which is for the best. They’re both sore subjects. Mostly with me.

By the time we reach the parking lot, we have to park toward the back. “I had no idea it would be this packed.”

“Liar,” Laura says. “It’s always this busy on day one or have you forgotten?”

Nope, just not sure what to say around you. “Must’ve spaced it,” I say.

We get out and Laura comes around the front to meet me, as we walk toward the pay booth. I have my wallet out and am handing the attendant cash before Laura can pay for herself.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says.

“I invited you, remember?” I wink and take her hand to lead her toward the funnel cake stand. We are five or six people deep in line when she suggests the most asinine thing to me.

“Hey, Jude,” she says in her sing song voice. It’s a clear indication that I’m about to say yes to whatever she’s about to say.

“Laura.”

“What do you think about entering the watermelon eating contest?”

“I think you’re about to get a funnel cake.”

She grips my arm and bounces up and down on her toes. “Let’s do it. We have nothing to lose.”

“Dignity.” I point out. “I’m a professor at the college. What if my students film me and put me on Tik Tak and I go viral?”

“First, it’s Tok not tak and if you do, all your students will think you’re a bad ass.”

Laura makes me laugh. It’s the deep bellowing, come from the bottom of your gut, make your sides hurt laugh. I haven’t laughed like this in years. I look at her. Big mistake. Her lower lip is jutted out and she’s batting those emerald green eyes of hers.

I nod even though she already knows she won. I can’t believe in a matter of hours, the Laura I knew and loved is back and I’m right there lapping up every bit of attention.

Laura orders her funnel cake and shares it with me as we walk toward the watermelon eating contest. Of course, when we enter the staging area, Tracy Byrd’s “Watermelon Crawl” is playing over the loudspeaker.

“Well if this song doesn’t bring back memories.” I bump Laura’s hip with mine and smile.

“Personally, I always preferred Kid Rock’s “All Summer Long.””

“That’s because you had a crush on him, which I will never ever understand.” I shake my head. “Do you still prefer guys with long hair?”

We come to a stop and wait our turn to fill out the registration form. I use this time to look at her. She has some powdered sugar on her cheek, so I wipe it off. Her breath catches and I stay as stoic as possible.

“I think I prefer guys with crazy, just got out of bed hair,” she says quietly.

My hand pauses. Would that be me?

“Next.”

The nasally voice calling for us pulls my attention away from Laura. I fill out the form and pay the fee. We’re told the rules. There are many rounds, we get free admission if we win, final contest is on Sunday. Got it.

Laura and I take our seats. There are ten of us at the table with heaping slices of watermelon. There is no way we’re going to win, but I don’t care. We’re doing this together. At the sound of the horn, we start eating.