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My stomach clenches in response. “Orien—”
He moves before I finish his name, one of his hands finds my hip, and he walks me back one step, two, until my back meets one of the support posts. His hand slips under my cardigan to splay warm over my ribs, and as his mouth slants over mine, the funnel cake hits the ground.
He kisses me slowly, as if time belongs to us. I grab the front of his jacket with both fists, the stuffed fox somewhere on the ground with the funnel cake. When his tongue traces my bottom lip, finding the last traces of powdered sugar, I whine into his mouth.
Orien kisses as he does everything else. Controlled. Intentional. Thorough. His tongue sweeps once across the corner of my mouth, then again, unhurried, as if he has every intention of accounting for each grain of sugar before he’s done.
When he finally pulls back, my lips throb, and I struggle to draw air into my lungs.
He licks my bottom lip one last time. “Sweet.”
I blink up at him, a little dazed, and frown in confusion as he crouches in front of me. When he picks up my fallen fox and dusts it off, I spot my abandoned funnel cake and whimper in protest.
“Don’t worry, trouble.” Orien rises and places the fox back in my arms. “I’ll buy you all the funnel cake you desire.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to demand a fresh one right away, especially if it means more of those kisses, but Orien takes my hand and tugs me back into the thick of the fair, and an artist’s booth draws my attention.
We meander through the craft booths before heading back to the game side, stopping at each booth to play. I win the balloon pop, while Orien wins the bean bag toss, and we both become a little too invested in the whack-a-mole.
At some point, my small fox becomes a big fox, and I find myself grinning as I drag Orien from one game to the next.
The games eventually give way to rides, and Orien balks at the roller coaster. “That thing is a death trap.”
“Come on!” I tug on his arm. “I’ve never been on a roller coaster!”
The ride operator, a man in his fifties with a patchy beard and a worn name tag, takes our money, gives us a tag for the fox, which goes into a cubby behind him, and directs us to the last car. We sit side by side, the safety bar lowering across our laps with a clank.
“I don’t like heights,” Orien mutters, the words so quiet I almost miss them over the creak of the track as we start our jerky ascent.
“Too late!” I shout as we arrive at the top.
I raise my arms into the air as we teeter for a moment, and Orien throws his arm across my torso as the front car vanishes over the edge, dragging the rest of us behind.
A scream rips from my throat, followed by a laugh, and I throw my head back, reveling in the wind whipping through my hair.
As we whip around the next curve, I grip the safety bar, laughing as my body slams into Orien’s side.
When I peek at the Alpha beside me, a smile tugs at his lips, and his hand covers mine on the safety bar, holding it in place.
The ride ends too soon, the car slowing as it pulls into the station with a groan of protesting metal. I’m still laughing as we climb out, my legs shaky from the aftermath of adrenaline, and Orien’s hand finds the small of my back.
I collect my stuffed fox from the bin, and we stumble away. “I want to go again.”
Orien shudders. “How about some real food first?”
“Weak,” I tease, but let him lead me back toward the food stalls.
We end up with an enormous corn dog, a square mountain of fries, and a bag of scones before we find a folding table near the perimeter of the lot, far enough from the nearest game booth for the shouting of players to fade into background noise.
As we share the food, I say, “Thank you for this.”
Orien meets my gaze before surveying the small fair, where the shopping mall is visible through the booths. “It’s not much.”
“It’s perfect,” I say, and mean it.
He doesn’t answer, but his shoulders loosen a little.
We eat in silence for a few minutes, observing the flow of people around us. A family passes our table, the parents hand-in-hand, the child between them bouncing with excitement. I track their progress through the crowd until they disappear from sight, a strange ache settling beneath my ribs.
