Blood Type (20 page)

August 6

I twirled back and forth in front of the full-length mirror in my
bed
room, making sure that I looked perfect from every angle and that the hem of my dress hadn’t got tucked into my underwear. The doorbell rang
,
and I froze.

John.

Before I could rush downstairs to head off my parents, I heard footsteps in the foyer. A brief moment later the familiar tenor of my father’s voice drifted up to me. I took a deep breath and held it, listening as intently as I could.

“You must be John,” my dad said. He
used
his accountant’s voice
;
firm and business-like. 

“I am
.
”

“
Ni
ce to finally put a face to the name,” Dad said. “Please come in.
I believe Blake is upstairs getting ready and doing whatever it is girls do before they go on a date.
”

John laughed.
“Thank you, Mr. Ehlert. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your wife already, but it’s nice to meet you, too. You have a beautiful home, by the way.”

I smiled and rolled my eyes, wiggling my feet into my red patent-leather sandals and pulling the straps in place around my
ankle
s
. A part of me wondered if it was just natural politeness,
and another part wondered if
John had
discovered the benefit of buttering up a girl’s parents. 

I grabbed my red cardigan, the one with the shimmery sequins sewed on front, just in case the night grew cool. Finally, I checked my make-up in the mirror one last time and then skipped down the stairs to meet John.

Dad let out a long whistle when he caught sight of me. “
You look
like a movie star
.
” 

I smiled
.
“Stop it, Daddy. You’re embarrassing me.”

“You look
really
nice,” John said. “I should be taking you to a fancy restaurant instead of the state fair. We can change our plans if you want.”

“Not a chance,” I said. “I’m excited. I haven’t been to the fair in ages. As long as you buy me funnel cake, I’ll be happy.”

“Just make sure you eat the funnel cake
after
you’ve ridden the Ferris wheel, and not before. Remember that one time?” My dad laughed at the memory and turned to John. “Blake is extremely susceptible to motion sickness, if you know what I mean.” He winked and nudged John in the side with his elbow
; a bonding moment, I supposed
.

“Daddy!”
I
cast
a stricken glance at John. Leave it to my dad to mortify me in front of my date. “I am
not
prone to motion sickness. I only . . .
got sick
. . . because you
wouldn’t stop rocking
the car. And anyway, I was
much younger then
. Now where’s Mom so I can tell her goodbye?”

The amused look lingered on my dad’s face, but he thumbed over his shoulder. “She’s out by the pool taking an extended lunch break. I’ve got to get back to the office myself. I’
m
working late, so I might not see you until tomorrow. You two have a great time.”

“Okay. Bye, Daddy
.
”
I leaned
in so he could kiss my cheek. He smelled of Old Spice and pipe tobacco, two of my favorite scents.

“You seem really close to your dad,” John said as he followed me down the hall to the kitchen.

I smiled.
“He’s good to me. I can’t complain.”

We found my mom
on an inflatable chair in the middle of the pool, drifting aimlessly with the fingers of one hand trailing in the water and a stack of papers in the other.
She
rarely took an actual break from work. “I hope you’re wearing sunscreen,” I called out to her.

She looked up and pushed back the wide brim of her slouch hat, squinting through the sun at me. “I am, as a matter of fact. How do you think I stay looking so young?” She sat up and began paddling her way to the edge of the pool, careful not to splash water on her papers.

“It’s so nice to see you again,” she said to John. “How are you?”

“I’m very well, Mrs. Kinsley.
Great day for a swim.”

“John and I are leaving now,” I said. “Remember we’re going to the fair?”

“Of course I d
o
,” Mom said. “That’s sounds nice. Just mind your curfew.”

“About that,” I said
as I shifted
from one foot to the other. “Do you think I can have an extended curfew, just this once?”

Mom handed her papers to me and then rolled off the edge of the inflatable chair with the grace of a synchronized swimmer, hardly making a splash or getting herself wet.
“
Blake, if I extend your curfew tonight,
just this once
, you’ll end up asking me to do it again some other night. And quite honestly, this is the beginning of a very bad habit.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared down at her.
“Seriously, Mom.
I’ve never missed curfew before. And when was the last time I even got in trouble? You know you can trust me.”

“You should have left for the fair earlier,” Mom said with reproof. “You would have had more time.
”

“I’m afraid that was my fault,” John said. “I had to work. I only just got off an hour ago.”

“Please, Mom.”

“I promise to have her home at a reasonable hour, Mrs. Kinsley,” John chimed in. “But the fair is over an hour away. Once we factor in trying to find parking, we’ll be spending nearly three hours just getting there and back.”

Mom’s top teeth sank into her lower lip as she stood in the shallow end of the pool contemplating. “I don’t know. We have rules for a reason.”

“Just until midnight.
That’s only two measly hours later than
usual
. Come on, Mom,” I said.
“
Pleeaase
?”

John ran a hand through his dark hair and flashed a thousand-watt grin. “Come on, Mrs. Kinsley. Say yes.”

“Yes,” she said, throwing her hands up in defeat. She made her way to the steps and
climbed out
. John snagged a folded towel from the table and held it out to her.

“Thank you,” he said. “I promise to take good care of your daughter.”

She wrapped the towel around her waist and raised an eyebrow at him. “I like you, John, but that’s precisely what I’m afraid of
.
” 

“Mom!”
My eyes flew wide
open
at the implication. I grabbed John’s hand and
backed
away before my mother could embarrass me even more.

The fair was hot and loud and absolutely wonderful. Country music drifted from the bandstand, drum beats and guitar riffs growing louder and fading again, depending on which way the breeze
blew
. The clank, rattle, and asthmatic wheeze of carnival rides echoed all around us, punctuated by the squealing laughter of children as they pointed and dragged their hot and tired
p
arents behind them to the next attraction.

The air
hung
heavy with the mouthwatering aroma of piping hot corn dogs, salted popcorn, and deep-fried whatever-you-
might-want on a stick. There was the sweet scent of funnel cakes frying in hot, bubbling oil and cotton candy swirled on cardboard cones. All of that overlaying the pungent
reek
of sweaty armpits
and stinky feet
.

“This is awesome
.
”
My cheeks ached from smiling so much
. “I can’t believe Ian didn’t want to come with us.” The side of John’s mouth quirked, and I wondered if Ian had even been given much choice in the matter.

“He assured me he could keep himself out of trouble
by himself
. Besides, this is supposed to be a date, remember?”

“I know
.
I just feel bad thinking about Ian sitting all alone while we’re out having fun.
I mean, he did come to see you.
”

“Don’t worry about him.”
John
grabbed my hand and linked his fingers with mine.
“Where to first?”

“I’ll take that funnel cake for starters,” I said. “And then maybe we could listen to
whoever’s
playing before going on any rides.”

John squeezed my hand and bent down to kiss me. His lips tasted faintly sweet and made my entire mouth tingle. “You got it.”

We stood in line for the funnel cakes, my back pressed against John’s chest and his arms wrapped snugly around my middle. The day was warm, but not too humid, and I could feel John’s dry heat radiating off his body through his faded jeans and t-shirt. He’d tucked a baseball cap in his back pocket, and he took
it out, squeezing the brim until he was satisfied with the shape,
before fitting it on his head
.

A
group of girls star
ed
at him and whisper
ed
to each other, twirling their hair and making eyes
while
trying to get his attention. I craned my head to
speak softly
in his ear
.
“Those girls over there think you’re cute.”

His eyes cut to them, but the expression on his face remained impassive. He turned me around then and bent his face to mine in a kiss that left me struggling for breath. One of the girls snorted and muttered “
j
erk.” 

The brim of his
baseball cap
brushed my forehead, and I was at once reminded of the guys from the night before, the ones at The Marauder’s Cove watching the game. And thinking of The Marauder’s Cove
made me think of the cowboy, Josiah
.

“So last night when I was leaving the bar,” I said
,
“
t
hat guy, Josiah, was outside.”

“Oh, yeah?”
 

“He said, ‘See you around, Blake.’ And it got me to wondering, how does he know my name?”

John’s arms tightened around me briefly before relaxing again. He laughed in my ear and pressed his lips to my neck before answering. “I couldn’t keep to myself how completely awesome you are.”

I blew a raspberry and punched him in the chest with my fist, though not hard. “You’re so full of it.”

John rubbed his chest, feigning hurt. Then he held up the three fingers of his right hand. “I’m not lying
.
Scout’s Honor.”
 

I gave him a narrow look. “That’s actually very sweet.
I like that you talk about me to your friends.
”

After I ate my funnel cake, of which John declined even one bite, we made our way to the bandstand. We found seats down front and clapped in time with the audience to a group of small girls dressed in short,
poofy
dresses, and boys in red, white, and blue suits, clogging frantically to “Mountain Music.” After they were done, a woman with long silver hair came on stage next. She played the mandolin and sang with an airy quality to her voice that made me think of woodland faeries and unicorns. But it was the next band—with their trio of guitar, violin, and banjo players—strumming their bluegrass funk, which really got the crowd
on their feet
. 

D
uring one of the band’s slower songs
,
John grabbed my hand and pulled me close to hi
m
. We swayed in time to the music, my head on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around me.

“I could stay like this forever.” The words
rushed
out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I smashed my face into his shirt and cringed.

John’s answering laugh rumbled in his chest. “Could you really? Tell me the truth.”

I nodded without hesitation. “I could.”

We danced until the last song in the set
played
and another band came on stage.

“How about a spin on the Ferris wheel?”
John asked. “I promise not to rock.”

We left the grandstand and took off for the midway. Dusk
had begun
to settle by then, and the lights of the rides were just starting to twinkle on.
A sort of magic permeated
the air, like everything existed in a state of suspended reality. At that moment, I believed anything was possible.

“Look how pretty it is!” I
craned
my neck to take in the awesome view of the Ferris wheel revolving at a leisurely pace
, its red, white, and blue lights twinkling in the growing darkness
.