༺ EIGHTEEN ༻

The fair is enormous. Lights are flashing everywhere, a big crowd is walking around, there's an uncountable amount of rides, and I try not to look at the dozens of food trucks.

"Well." Thomas exhales, clearly taken aback the fair is this big, too. "Where do you want to go?"

"I don't mind. You can choose."

He pulls a face at me. "You should choose."

"Let's not have a fight about this," I decide. Otherwise, we might still be standing here two hours later. "Should we just walk around and see where we want to go?"

Thomas nods in agreement. "Sure. Sounds good."

We start walking around, our hands still intertwined. I don't mind, honestly. It's the third time holding his hand in one week and the other two times, I got an empty feeling when we let go.

As we walk, I try to think about Mom's words. That it's not Newt or the reputation Thomas has with Newt that I have to worry about. That it's for me to decide what I want this to be.

I know I want it to be a date.

"Thomas?"

Oh no no no no no no—

He looks at me, eyebrows raising.

"Never mind," I say fast. I can't just ask him if he agrees to this being a date! What if he says no? And would it would be so awkward if I asked.

"No, say it." His hand tightens around mine, and he smiles a smile that makes me break. 

"Isthisadate?"

It takes a few seconds for him to reply. In those seconds, I'm rethinking my life and only shake out of the horrible thoughts in my mind when he speaks.

He cocks his head to the side, slowly moving his eyes over me. "Do you want it to be?"

I realize we've stopped walking after my heart skipped a beat at his question. "Yes," I then say, and I surprise myself with how much confidence the word leaves my mouth. "I want it to be a date."

His smile brightens, which feels like a ton of weight is being lifted off my shoulders. "Then you're lucky I also want it to be a date."

Except, I have always found myself thinking there's multiple types of dates.

One to get to know each other, one after having a kiss to see if you want to continue, and a date while you're already in a relationship, so I'm not sure what this is.

Well, obviously not the last two, but the first one... I have the feeling Thomas and I already know each other well enough.

Whatever. I have to stop overthinking or I'll go crazy.

My eyes fall on the bumper cars. "Here! These are your favorite, right? Come on!" I pull his hand, quite excited myself, and before I know it, I'm sitting between Thomas's legs.

"You should take the wheel," I say. "You're the professional."

His chuckle vibrates between us, and he takes the wheel. Now, I'm really locked between his torso and the thing, and I feel his hot breaths against my neck, along with his body pressing against mine.

With dozens of little kids around me, I'm the most nervous one, and maybe a little ashamed I feel these feelings by some physical contact.

But it's with Thomas.

"Got the tactic?" I manage to ask.

"Whoever bumps into us, we bump back. Circle 'em, attack."

The smile automatically grows. "Alright. I'll hold on tightly."

He grabs my hands, lies them on the wheel, then grips his hands around mine. "That tight enough?"

Butterflies cause hotness to stream everywhere in my body. "Surely."

Listening to Thomas's laughs as he drives around, his hands still on mine, is pure heaven.

Ha, first his hands, then his hair, and now his laughs.

A boy slams into us so hard I would've fallen over if Thomas hadn't locked me between his arms.

"Oh, he's gonna regret that," Thomas mutters.

"Don't make anyone cry," I warn.

Poor kids.

He takes his revenge on the kid by hitting his car, hard. "I wouldn't even dare, Blondie."

After the bumper cars, we're walking around again. This time not with our hands intertwined, but his elbow brushing against mine is also enough for me to get the pleasurable feeling.

"So, have you been alright with hockey after... you know?"

Thomas gives me a triumphant look. "That's two minutes for you."

Oh, well.

I sigh, but then smile. "See? My life exists out of the things we can't mention."

"Your life exists out of my hockey?"

My lips curve up. "That's two minutes for Thomas."

He gasps, offended. "You can't do that! That's a trap."

"A trap to what?" I tease.

"To making me mention—" he stops. Gives me another look. "—what I can't mention."

I chuckle, throwing my head back. "Oh, hey! The Fun Slide. Can we go there?"

"Sure."

We pay for it. Well, I wanted to but Thomas refused that offer and paid, so with the time we're walking up the slide, it takes a while to get there.

Thomas moves to the operator and asks something. A few seconds later, he stands next to me again. "It's okay to go on one mat with two people."

I try to stop the butterflies, but it doesn't work. "Then we'll go together."

I'm sitting between his legs again, but this time, his hands are on my waist. He firmly holds me against his body, making sure we both stay on the mat as we slide down.

Normally, I would've bursted out laughing every time there was a bump, but right now, I can only feel his hands burn on my waist, all the way to my bones, where fireworks are bloody exploding.

"Do you like corn dogs?" Thomas asks once we're standing on the middle of the fair again. "We should eat something."

I wish we made a deal about not mentioning food.

"You can take a corn dog," I say. "I'm not very hungry. I had a big meal. Wasn't sure if we'd eat something here, so stuffed myself full."

The way the lie slips off my mouth so easily proves how much I've been lying lately.

I ate an apple. Told Mom I'd eat at the fair with Thomas, but I'm really not that hungry.

Besides, Janson still hasn't complimented me. In fact, he actually asked if those eight pounds were already off. And with the tone he said it, I realized that only the scale could tell I lost eight pounds, not a pair of eyes.

"Are you sure?" Concern increases Thomas's face and eyes.

I nod, really hoping he won't dig into the details. "I'm sure. Maybe I'll steal some from you, though."

Thomas does end up buying a corn dog and offers me a piece after almost every bite he takes, but I keep refusing, no matter how good it looks.

After that, we go on a few more rides. For some reason, we don't go in the wild ones, but I don't mind. A calmer night at the fair with more words than yells of fear is nice, too.

We're in a deep conversation about our childhoods when we pass the Ferris wheel, and I gasp at the beautiful lights coming off it.

And we're soon sitting in it.

Across from each other. I stare at the sight of the fair under the dark sky. All those lights and flickers are awesome.

His fingertips brush against my knee. "How's Aris?" 

I keep staring outside as I reply, "My answer will include the things I can't mention."

"You can mention Aris," he says. "Just not the other things."

My eyes move to his face like a magnet. "Anything about Aris has to do with the things I can't say. Meaning, there's nothing to say about him because it all evolves around those things."

"Is he a good dancer?"

"Two minutes," I call. "Besides, he's your friend. Aren't you supposed to know that?"

His gaze lingers on my face, and his eyes contain the thing again. "I'm asking you specifically. I'm asking if you find Aris a nice ballet partner."

"Two more minutes," I say. "But yes, he's a nice one. Great movements."

Thomas leans closer. "Is he respectful?"

"Yes," I confirm. "Hey, this isn't an interview and we agreed to not talking about all these things. You're on six minutes."

"And I don't care if it turns into sixty." I sense him tensing up. "What about Janson? He better not be one of those creepy teachers who takes every opportunity to touch you."

"He doesn't. He barely touches me. Actually calls girls to help if it's needed," I say.

"How many hours per week is Aris—"

I get a bit pissed off. He suggested not speaking about ballet. I agreed because a night without thinking about what I always think about sounded good, and now this happens.

"If you're that jealous, consider asking Janson to change roles and let you dance in Aris's place, if you have so many criticism on him."

Thomas's smile twitches into something more serious. He's silent for a few seconds, as an almost inaudible exhale leaves his mouth.

"You're right," he then says. "I'm fucking jealous."

I think my windpipe just blocked completely.

And him moving so close I can inspect every single mole and spark in his eyes isn't helping either.

"I hate the idea of you dancing with him, though I know it's necessary," he tells me quietly, his voice so damn steady. "And even if I'd ever get the chance to replace him, I'd get so freaking weak from touching you that I'd fail immediately."

I'm sitting there with almost wide eyes, my mouth half open. "You shouldn't be jealous," it comes out quieter than I intended.

"Yet I am," he murmurs. "And you're not even mine."

My hands clench around my seat from surprise and he's suddenly so close that my mind goes crazy and forgets every piece of advice my mom gave. "Thomas, you can't say that," I whisper, my back pin straight as if I'm in a shock. "We can't- you're Newt's best friend and I—"

"What do you want?" It's hard to resist the urge to look at his lips. "Newt doesn't have to know about anything."

My stomach is doing so many things I think it's convulsing, and my breaths are fast. Unsteady. Hard. "I want you." The words leave my mouth before I know it. "No matter how many times I try to deny it."

I think we should open a window in this cabin before I suffocate from the bare amount of air.

His hands rest on my knees, his eyes boring into mine. And then, I sense him being less tense. His eyes aren't as dark and the softer voice comes back, which settles me, too.

"Can I kiss you?" Is what he's asking with the softer voice, his eyes desperate.

It's all happening so fast and I try to rethink how many weeks ago I met him but I can't think straight with his presence and I realize that maybe I've been denying too much.

"Yes." I nod, breathless.

Bloody hell, I'm kissing Thomas.

It's not rough. It's not with a mix of that jealousy he was feeling three seconds ago. It's not desperate for more things that include the less innocent physical touch. Neither does it feel like he has me trapped.

I want this, I realize as his soft lips move against mine, and those hands cup my face. I slide my hand in his hair after weeks of admiring the strands, and almost sigh out at the feeling. He tries to move closer and so do I, our knees the only thing that keeps the space between us.

And I think everything in my body just blocked. I can't think, can barely breathe, and my veins only allow heat to stream through them. I just keep my lips against his until I really run out of breaths, and so does he.

Breathing heavier, we stare at each other. It's not awkward, luckily. I enjoy the quick moment of just getting myself together, and rethinking what just happened.

My mind easily answers the question it has been wanting to answer for a while, as I tried denying it.

Am I in love Thomas? Yes.

And it gets worse every time I see him.

Now, I've known him for about five weeks, so it's acceptable, right?

"Newt's going to freak out just as much as I am right now." I didn't choose to say that, since the words force themselves out.

"Newt doesn't have to know," Thomas says. "Not yet."

Is my mind that dazed or am I just vaguely confused right now? Because when he mentioned how jealous he is, the look and tone almost seemed unreal. A new side of him.

Thomas takes my hand. Apparently, the wheel has stopped and we're supposed to get out.

I don't know what to say as we walk further.

"It's ten PM," Thomas announces, and it seems like he doesn't know what to do for a second either. "Do you want to go home or...?"

I shrug. "What do you want?"

Man, I didn't want it to be awkward, but it kind of is right now.

He hesitates. "Y— maybe we should go back."

I nod. "Alright. We'll go back."

We continue walking, on our way back home. After that kiss, I don't think anyone is going to massage anything. Most likely, we'll apart ways soon and I'll only be able to look through my window to see him.

The whole walk long, we're silent.

And when we're in between our houses, both of us stop walking and our eyes meet again.

Has he always been this tall?

Thomas clears his throat. The silence is officially killing me... until he kisses my cheek. Just a soft touch that sends my knees buckling.

"We should probably discuss all of that, from the Ferris wheel, someday," he suggests, smiling a crooked, awkward smile.

I chuckle. Honestly, it's kind of funny how it all happened and that we're know standing here as if not much happened. "Of course."

"Then... we'll see when." He moves up and down on his heels, tucking his hands in his pockets.

My chuckle gets louder, and my smile brightens. "Yeah, sure."

He lets out a laugh, too. "Imagine Newt was in the cabin next to us."

He's making my cheekbones hurt. "Nah, we would've heard a scream if that was the case."

Thomas laughs. "It's ironic, really."

"Yeah." I exhale, dropping my tense shoulders. At least we ended this night in a... comfortable way? "So, guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"I'll pick you up." He nods.

"From falling for you?"

His eyes squint and the sight is so cute I almost melt. "Sure, Blondie."

I smile. "See you tomorrow, Thomas."

"Good night." He holds up his hand, taking some slow steps back.

I hold eye contact. "Good night."

"Bye."

"See ya."

"Don't be late tomorrow."

"You, too."

The tension is killing me, and I can no longer stop myself from making a run and kissing him again.

Thomas catches me in his arms perfectly, and our lips collide with some force. He holds my waist, humming as I run my hands up and down his back.

"Man," he breathes when we let go, "how am I supposed to come over to see Newt without clinging around you now?"

"That's something to discuss whenever we will discuss everything," I decide, grinning a bit. "Good night, Thomas."

"Night, Rose."

A few minutes later, I think my scream in the pillow woke Newt up, because he's cursing and blah blah blah.

Things I can't even bother right now.