He jumps off the side, spinning around like a crazed lunatic. “If only life was like this—an amusement park. Laughing all day long. Cotton candy on tap.”
“I’m sure there’s a downside to it,” I say out loud, without thinking.
“Why do you have to be so cynical?”
“Uh hello? Pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Vigorously shaking his head, he finishes the remains of the flask, following with a satisfied moan. “Now, you wanted to have fun. Have fun with me.”
He grabs my hand, taking the monkey and leaving it on the ground, bringing me close to his body and leading me into a waltz, right in the middle of the amusement park while he sings Barry Manilow’s Can’t Smile Without You. It’s corny, cheesy—yet perfect at this moment.
“You’re crazy.” I laugh as he dips me. “Who would have thought you were a closet Barry lover?”
“And you’re beautiful. Just for tonight, be crazy with me.”
I laugh again, spinning around. “There, crazy enough?”
He shakes his head, determined to get me to let loose and be wild. “You can do better than that.”
I look around us. There’s a bumper car lot on the right but bumper cars weren’t exactly living on the edge. In front were a few kiddie rides, and beside them—this spinning Octopus. It wasn’t that ride which caught my attention, it was the adventure crazy house beside it. Standing tall, oddly shaped mirrors in front with stairs and a spinning circle on top. It reminded me of the movie Grease when Sandy gets her groove on at the end.
“Okay, you want crazy? I’ll give you crazy.”
I pull his hand, leading him to the adventure house. The mirrors show our reflection as we walk past; our bodies morphing from abnormally short and fat, to tall and skinny. We both laugh at ourselves, moving inside where the ground becomes uneven and it’s incredibly dark. The moonlight provides limited light, but I didn’t care. I was terrified and excited at the same time.
My hands clutch onto his shirt, pulling his body into mine, allowing me to bring his lips closer. The beat of my heart thickens; his lips warming mine and tasting so goddamn good.
“I don’t know what it is when I’m with you,” I breathe between kisses, lost in this man that consumed me in a way I had never experienced. “You’re so…”
“Bad?”
“Yes,” I pant.
“And I’m nothing like you’ve ever had.”
“Yes,” I repeat, running my hands through his hair.
The warmth of his lips leaves mine; his body distant with a bitter smile. “I thought you were different.”
The loss of contact leaves me uneasy. It takes me a moment to respond. “What kind of a question is that?”
“It’s not a question,” he responds, flatly.
Adjusting my dress that moved during our heated kiss, I straighten my posture trying to get a hold of myself. “Maybe I should go.”
“I thought you were different.”
“What does that mean? Different to who? Okay, so I love to read and would rather spend my night playing Monopoly. This wasn’t my scene tonight. So I’m different, who cares? The world needs different. Not everyone can be like you and Emerson.”
The words came out harsh, not at all like I had intended. I was frustrated we were even having this conversation when a minute earlier I was caught up in the best make-out session I had ever had.
“Do you think you’re the first girl that has called me bad and told me I’m like no other man you’ve been with?”
“No…” I trail off, pausing. “But it’s the truth. You are bad—for me. Every part of me says not to be with you. You will hurt me and I’ll end up with a broken heart and have to move back home because I can’t deal with the shame. You’re not like any man I’ve been with. The last four years were spent with Liam. Liam is caring. He’s kind. He doesn’t have a bad bone in his body.”
“And I’m none of those things,” he answers, smugly. “I don’t fucking care about anyone, right?”
“What do you want me to say?” I throw my hands up with frustration. “I can’t seem to win. If you want the truth, this is it. You’re not Liam. You are Wesley. The guy that has gotten on my nerves and crawled under my skin. The same guy I haven’t stopped thinking about every day since that day in the café. The same guy I’ve fantasized being with not because he’s bad but because he does something to me…this butterfly-sick-to-the-stomach feeling. The thought of his hands all over me makes me want to throw all caution to the wind and live for this moment.”