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“That’ll be five bucks.”
I reach inside my bag and pull out my small change purse. “You sure you don’t want one?” I ask her, and she narrows her eyes.
I turn my attention back to the man and hand him the bill in exchange for the cup.
“Wanna ride the Ferris wheel? Or maybe the thing that spins over there?”
Mallory scoffs. “If you think I am getting on any of these death traps you’ve got another thing coming. I didn’t survive finals week just to end it all at some dirty carnival. I will be keeping my feet planted firmly on the ground instead of being tossed around like veggies in a food processor.”
Our experience couldn’t be more different.
Growing up I never got to come to places like this. Traveling carnivals weren’t exactly a place frequented by people like my parents. They were more likely to be found at galas supporting some obscure charity or country club.
This place is sensory overload and I’m enjoying every single second of it.
The rides are luminous against the dark sky, flashing lights and colors dancing above our heads. A claw shaped ride hurtles through the air, the legs of those brave enough to get on dangling wildly as they get slung back and forth.
“There’s a mirror maze over there,” I say, pointing toward the back of the carnival where a row of indoor attractions sit.
“That seems safe enough,” Mallory responds, not a trace of amusement lacing her words.
“Look who it is,” a familiar voice coos in my ear as an arm slides over my shoulder.
Travis.
He’s wearing too much cologne—the expensive one his mom got him last Christmas.
“Here I am,” I mutter under my breath, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy marking his territory, making sure that everyone around me knows that even though we broke up last month, he still views me as his.
I’ve yet to go on even one ride because Mallory flat out refuses, and now my ex will make sure that I don’t leave his sight for the rest of the night.
So much for enjoying my evening at the carnival.
“Blair, can we talk?” he asks, arm tightening around me.
I shrug out from underneath him and shake my head. “Not here, Travis.”
I’m not sure why I bother. He’s never been great at listening to anything that comes out of my mouth.
“Baby, don’t make me beg in front of our friends. I just wanna talk.”
Deciding that indulging him is better than causing a scene, I relent.
I allow him to lead me toward a secluded area but try not to stare too long at the giant clown face to our left.
The words Shifty’s Fun House are blinking above the monstrosity, though I’m not convinced there is anything fun inside.
“How long are you going to make me play along with this whole ‘taking a break’ bullshit?”
I don’t know how many other ways we can have this exact same conversation.
“We aren’t taking a break, Travis. We’ve broken up. There is no uncertainty hanging above it.”
He lets out a groan and places each of his hands on my shoulders, his voice getting louder.
“Look, I’ve tried to be as understanding as possible. I get that you needed space or whatever, but this shit is getting old. It’s been you and me since high school.”
That’s the problem.
