K. Bromberg - Driven

“Oh, Rylee …” he chides, “Don’t ask for something you can’t handle. I told you, I can be very persuasive . Don’t you remember the last time you dared me?” He tugs me closer and puts his arm around my shoulders.

How can I forget? I’m here right now because of that pseudo-dare.

We approach the ticket booth, and Colton releases his hold on me to buy our tickets as well as a wristband giving us complete access to all rides and games at the carnival. We enter through the gates, Colton tugging his hat down low, covering his eyes before placing his hand on my lower back. The smell of dirt, oil for frying, and barbeque fill my nose, while my eyes take in the dazzling, blinking lights. I can hear the rush of the small roller coaster to the right of us along with the screams of its riders as it plunges downwards. Little kids wander around with dazed looks, clutching balloons in one little hand, holding tightly to a parent with the other, their excitement and wonderment palpable. Stuffed animals hang ceremoniously from game stations guaranteed to catch the eye of grade-school children. Teenagers walk hand in hand, not caring that they’re actually at the carnival but rather thinking they’re so cool that they’re here without their parents. I can’t help my smile because despite my age, I’m excited—I haven’t been to a carnival like this since I was their age.

“Where to first?” Colton asks as we stroll lazily hand in hand down the midway, smiling and politely refusing the offers to “win a prize” from the game vendors.

“The rides definitely,” I tell him as I look around. “Not sure which one yet, though.”

“A girl after my own heart!” He pats his free hand against his chest, smiling at me.

“Adrenaline junkie!” I tell him, bumping my hip up against his thigh.

“Damn straight!” he laughs as we approach what appears to be the center of “Ride Alley” as the sign above us advertises. “So which one, Ryles?”

I look around at the rides, noting several different women staring at us. At first I worry that they recognize Colton, but then realize they are probably just looking in pure female appreciation at the man that stands beside me.

“Hmmmm,” I contemplate all of the rides, settling on a long-running favorite. I point toward the ride closest to us, “I used to love this as a kid!”

“Good old Tilt-A-Whirl,” Colton laughs, tugging me in its direction. “C’mon, let’s go.” His enthusiasm is endearing. A man who whirls hundreds of miles an hour around a track, rubs elbows with some of the brightest stars in Hollywood, and could be somewhere upscale right now, is excited about going on simple carnival ride. With me. I have to pinch myself.

We get in line to wait our turn. He bumps me softly with his shoulder. “So tell me more about you, Rylee.”

“Is this the job interview part of a date?” I tease playfully. “What do you want to know?”

“What’s your story? Where you’re from? What’s your family like? What are your secret vices?” he suggests grabbing my hand in his again and raising it to his lips. The simple sign of affection sneaks over the protective wall around my heart.

“All the juicy details, huh?”

“Yep!” His grin lights up his face and he pulls me toward him so that he can casually lay his hand over my shoulder. “Tell me everything.”

“Well, I grew up in a typical, middle-class family in San Diego. My mom owns an interior design company and my dad restores vintage memorabilia.”

“Very cool,” Colton exclaims as I reach my hand up to link it with his that’s casually resting over my shoulder. “What are they like?”

“My parents?” He nods his head at me. His question surprises me because it’s beyond just the superficial. Its as if he really wants to know me. “My dad’s a typical Type A, everything in its order, whereas my mom is very creative. Very much a free spirit. Opposites attract, I guess. We’re really close. It killed them when I decided to stay in Los Angeles after college.” I shrug, “They’re great, just worry too much. You know, typical parents.” We move forward some in the line as the current set of riders vacate their cars and the next set moves on. “I’m very lucky to have them,” I tell him, a little pang of homesickness hitting me for I haven’t seen them in a couple of weeks.

“Any siblings?” Colton queries, playing with my fingers as he holds my hand.

“I have an older brother. Tanner.” The thought of him makes me smile. Colton hears the reverence in my voice when I speak of my brother and smiles softly back at me. “He travels a lot. I never know where he’s going to be one week to the next. He’s a foreign correspondent for the Associated Press in the Middle East.”

He notes my furrowed brow, “Not exactly the safest job these days. Sounds like you worry a lot.”

I lean into him, “Yeah, but he’s doing what he loves.”

“I can definitely understand that.” We start to shuffle forward again. “What do you think? Are we going to make it this time?”

I step in front of him and stand on my tippy toes and gauge the line. A small thrill moves through me as I feel him place his hands on both sides of my torso, where my waist and hips meet. I look a bit longer than I need to, not wanting him to remove his hands. “Hmmm, I think next time.” I respond, sinking slowly off of my toes.

Rather than remove his hands, Colton wraps his arms around me and sets his chin on my shoulder. I sink into him, my softness against his steel, and close my eyes momentarily so I can absorb the feeling of him.

“So finish telling me about you,” he murmurs in my ear, the coarseness of his whiskered jaw rubbing the crook of my neck as he speaks.

“Not much else to tell really,” I shrug my shoulders subtly, not wanting him to move. “Played lots of sports through high school. Went to UCLA. Met Haddie as my roommate freshman year. Four years later, I majored in psychology with a minor in social work. Got my job and have been doing it ever since. Pretty boring really.”

“Normal’s not boring,” he corrects. “ Normal is desirable .”

I am about to ask him what he means by his comment when we move forward and are directed onto the uneven surface of the ride. We slide into the car, lower the safety bar, and wait for the rest of the ride to be loaded. Colton slides his arm around my back before he continues, “So what about vices? What do you need to have?”

Besides you? The words almost slip out but I catch myself before its too late. I look at him, squinting my eyes in thought. “Don’t laugh,” I warn him.

He laughs loudly, “Now you have me very curious.”

“Well, besides the obvious female things, wine, Hershey kisses, mint chocolate chip ice cream,” I pause to think, a smile turning up the corners of my mouth. “I’d have to say music.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “It’s not very scandalous, I know.”

“What kind of music?”

I shrug. “All kinds, really. Just depends on my mood.”

“When you need it the most, what type do you listen to?”

“I’m embarrassed to say this,” I shield my eyes with my hand in mock shame, “Top 40, cheesy pop music in particular.”

“No!” he yells out in mock horror, laughing loudly. “Oh God, please don’t tell me you like boy bands ,” he sneers sarcastically. When I just look at him with a smug smile on my face, he starts laughing. “You and my sister will get along just fine. I had to listen to that crap for years growing up.”

He plans on me meeting his sister? I quickly wipe the shocked look off of my face and continue. “She must have great taste in music then!” I kid him. “Hey, I live in a house full of teenagers, I hear all kinds of Top 40 music, all day long”