Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
On the way to the Gravitron, we meet up with Erica and Hank. From there, we ride the Tilt-A-Whirl twice, since it’s Erica’s favorite.
Tonight, Coen makes no effort to disguise himself the way he has before. We don’t talk about his hockey career because we don’t talk about anything personal. That’s crossing lines that are too tenuous.
But I know from what I’ve read he was not on good terms with the team when he was suspended, and him hiding out here in the mountains of western Pennsylvania is telling. The mere fact he doesn’t want privacy trees cut down speaks of a man who doesn’t want to interact with anyone.
Yet tonight, he is approached by a few people, and while he’s not quite gracious, he acquiesces to a few photos with fans.
Of course, Erica, Hank, and I stand back and elbow each other, as it’s definitely cool to be hanging out with someone famous. But then we’ll head for another ride and once again, Coen will just be a regular guy.
My phone dings, and I pull it out of my bag, reading a text from Ann Marie. At the House of Mirrors.
Coming, I text back and we all head that way.
I’m pleased to see Xander with Ann Marie. They’ve gone out on a few dates, but this trip to the fair was a last-minute thing. Ann Marie was fretting that perhaps he wasn’t really interested, but I think he is.
We line up to go into the building with a bazillion mirrors designed to contort and disorient. Erica, Ann Marie, and I stand together talking, while the guys stand behind us doing the same. Coen is engaged with Hank and Xander about fishing, which, by all appearances, might become a favorite hobby.
Ann Marie nudges me and whispers. “Are you on a date with him?”
I shake my head as we inch forward in the line. “We’re just friends.”
“Who have sex,” she whispers back.
Erica snickers and glances over her shoulder at the men, then back to me. “Well, regardless of whatever you two are, you’re the most envied woman in these fairgrounds.”
I snort at her. “Yeah, right.”
“No, seriously,” Erica says.
Ann Marie chimes in. “Don’t you see the stares you’re getting?”
Frowning, I glance around, but I don’t see anyone looking at us. “No one’s staring.”
“Maybe not now,” Ann Marie explains. “But as you two were walking this way, every woman you passed was staring at Coen in open lust and at you with open jealousy.”
“Really?” I don’t see why. We’re clearly not on a date. We don’t touch each other. We’re not affectionate. I mean, sure… we’re walking side by side and talking and laughing, and that one time he steadied me coming off the Zipper.
But surely, anyone who looks at me and looks at Coen, side by side, can see we’re not dating. We’re way too mismatched.
Except in bed, I muse.
We reach the entrance, and Hank and Xander push past me to pair up with their dates. Xander reaches down and threads his fingers through Ann Marie’s, and my heart sighs in satisfaction for her. Hank puts his arm around Erica’s waist and whispers something to her. She laughs and bumps her hip against his. Ten bucks says it was dirty.
And Coen and I just stand beside each other, not touching, as he hands the carny our tickets.
We enter the building, the first panel of reflective pieces making both Coen and I look like round balls with tiny heads. We bust out laughing, and before I know it, he’s taking my hand and pulling me to a hallway that leads to the right. I’m not sure where my friends went, but I follow along behind Coen as we enter a maze of mirrors.
His hand engulfs mine, leaving no room for me to pull away. We check ourselves out in the mirrors, our bodies contorted into weird shapes. Most are funny; some are downright scary.
But it’s just me and Coen, and he has no fear in laughing at himself or me.
In one room, he moves behind me with his hands on my hips. Our necks elongate in the reflection, and when he tips his head to kiss the side of my neck, his neck curves like it’s made of rubber. I laugh so hard I can’t stop. Coen turns me in his arms, presses his mouth to mine, and suddenly I’m not laughing anymore.
“There you are,” Ann Marie says from behind us.
I start to jerk back, but Coen’s not so quick in releasing me. His mouth lingers a little longer, a testament to the fact this man loves to kiss. It’s by far the sexiest thing about him. He loves the act of mating with lips and tongue and teeth.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ann Marie says, grabbing my arm. “The fireworks are going to start soon, and we want to get on the Ferris wheel to see them.”