Driven

by K. Bromberg

  “Great. Thanks for letting me know.” And with that he pushes a button and the line disconnects abruptly. Colton sighs out loud and a part of me is happy at his impatience toward Tawny.

  “Sorry,” he says again, and I’m sure he’s referencing Tawny’s mention of Raquel. So they were an item. She just wasn’t some chick he found at the club. The catty side of me at least revels in the fact it was me he left with that night. The compassionate side of me winces for I know that Colton isn’t someone who would be easy to get over.

  “No biggie,” I shrug as I take notice of our location. We’re heading out of the city, the opposite direction from where I would expect to be going.

  We ride in a comfortable silence for a couple of minutes then Colton turns a corner and the bright lights of a Ferris wheel light up the sky. I glance over at him, and my heart tumbles slowly upon seeing the boyish grin on his face. Colton drives between the flagged gates and pulls the car slowly down the bumpy, dirt road.

  My eyes widen at the massive scene before me. The entire dirt field is crammed with every typical carnival ride one can imagine, complete with a flashing sign denoting a Midway section with games impossible to win, and signs advertising horribly fattening food. I’m so excited. So thrilled that Colton opted to have fun outdoors with me in an arena that’ll allow me to see more of the real him, rather than the cultured persona he’d have to be in one of the upscale, paparazzi-watched restaurants that he’s known to frequent.

  He parks the car and turns to me, “Is this okay?” he asks, and I swear I can hear nerves tinge his voice, but I know that’s not possible. Not from the ultra-confident, always-sure-of-himself Colton Donavan. Or is it?

  I nod my head at him, bottom lip between my teeth as he exits the car and comes around my side to open my door. “I’m excited,” I tell him as he takes my hand and helps me out. He shuts the door and turns to me, my back against the car. His eyes blaze with desire as he stares at me, brings his hands up to the side of my neck, and brushes his thumbs over my cheeks.

  I can see the muscles in his jaw clenching as he shakes his head softly, silently responding to some internal conflict that causes a ghost of a smile to play on his lips. “Sweetheart, I’ve wanted to do this since I left your house this morning.” He leans in, eyes still connected with mine, “… since I got your text.” He raises his eyebrows. “You intoxicate me, Rylee.” His words surge into my soul as he closes the distance between us. His mouth captures mine in a dizzying kiss, tempting me with his addictive taste so that I’m left fighting to regain my equilibrium. His mouth possesses mine with a quiet demand, yet the kiss is so full of tenderness, so packed with unnamed emotions that I don’t want it to end.

  But it does, and I’m left to grip my fingers onto his biceps to steady myself. He kisses my nose softly before murmuring, “You ready to have some fun?”

  I don’t know how he expects me to respond since he just stole my breath, but after a moment I manage to say, “Definitely!” as he releases me to open the rear door. He pulls out a black baseball hat, well worn with a threadbare spot on the tip of the bill. The logo is a sewn-on patch of a tire with two wings coming out from the hub, and it’s curled up at the edges, the stitching giving way to obvious use.

  Colton tugs it down on his head, using both hands to adjust the brim properly before turning to me with an embarrassed grimace. “Sorry. It’s just easier in the long run if I go try to go incognito from the start.”

  “No problem,” I say reaching up to tug on the lip. “I like it!”

  “Oh, really?” he grabs my hand, and we begin weaving through the parked cars toward the entrance.

  “Yeah, I kinda have a thing for baseball players,” I tease, looking over at him and keeping my face straight.

  “Not race car drivers?” he asks, tugging on my hand.

  “Not particularly,” I deadpan.

  “I guess I’ll have to work a little harder to persuade you then,” he responds suggestively.

  “That might take a lot of persuading.” A playful smile is on my face as I look over at him, his eyes hidden by the shadow cast from the lid of his cap. I swing our hands back and forth. “Do you think you’re up for the challenge, Ace?”

  “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”

  “Nice try, but nothing justifies liking boy bands, Rylee.”

  “Spoken like a true guy!”

  “Would you rather I be something else?” he asks tapping a finger to the tip of my nose as I laugh, shaking my head no. He leans forward and looks around the ride to see when we’re going to start. “Here we go.”

  It’s not lost on me that our conversation has been solely about me. I begin to think about this as the ride starts to twist and turn and spin violently in circles. I am thrown against the side of Colton’s body, and he clutches his arm around me, holding me tightly to him. He is laughing hysterically at the rush of the ride, and I tell him to close his eyes because it heightens the sensation. I swear I hear him say something about showing me more of that later, but I’m distracted from asking because as soon as it begins, the ride is over.

  Colton and I proceed to ride the tea-cups, the swings, sneak a kiss in the Fun House’s lover’s lane, raise our hands high above our heads as we plummet downward on the roller coaster, and sling back and forth on the dragon ship. We step off of the freefall ride after having our stomachs jolted up into our mouths, and Colton declares his need for a drink.

  We stroll over to a food vendor and buys two drinks and a mammoth funnel of cotton candy. He looks over at me, dead serious. “No carnival is complete without making yourself sick on the pure goodness of spun sugar.” His grin is that of a mischievous little boy, and it just melts my heart.

  I laugh at him as we stroll over to a nearby bench. We are almost there when we hear a voice behind us. “Excuse me?”

  We both turn to see a middle-aged woman standing behind us. “Yes?” I ask, but it’s obvious she couldn’t care less about me for her eyes are completely fixated on Colton.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but, my friends and I have a bet going … are you Colton Donavan?”

  I can feel Colton’s hand tense in mine, but his face remains impassive. A slow smile spreads across his face as he glances over at me and then back to the woman in front of us. “That’s flattering of you to think, ma’am, but I’m sorry to disappoint you. I actually get that a lot.” The woman’s face falls in disappointment. “Thank you for the compliment, though. My name’s Ace Thomas,” Colton improvises as he holds out his hands to shake hers. The mixture of my nickname for him and my last name makes me smile softly at the idea that he is thinking of the two of us as being intertwined. Connected.

  She shakes his hand reluctantly, muttering, “Nice to meet you,” embarrassed at her intrusion, before she turns quickly and walks back to her friends.

  “Nice to meet you too, ma’am.” Colton calls after her, the rigidity in his shoulders easing as we turn our backs to her and continue to the bench. He lets out a soft sigh. “I hate doing that. Lying like that,” he verbalizes, “Its just that once one person realizes, then it’s nonstop. Out come the camera phones and the Facebook posts and before you know it, we’re surrounded, the paparazzi show up, and I’ve spent the whole evening tending to strangers and ignoring you.”

  His reasoning takes me by surprise, and I’m flattered that he’s put it in these terms. “This is my life,” he explains without apology, “for the most part. I grew by default with a famous family, but I made the choice to be a public person. I accept the fact that I’m going to be followed and photographed and hounded for autographs. I get it,” he says, sitting down on the bench beside me, “and I don’t mind it, really. I mean I’m not complaining. I’m usually very accommodating, especially when it comes to kids. But sometimes, like tonight, I just …” he tugs his hat down further on his head, “I just don’t want to be bugged.” He leans forward, angling his head so that the brim of his hat clears my forehead, and says, “I just want it to be you and me.” He leans in, brushing his lips against mine in a brief but tender kiss, emphasizing his last words.

  I pull back and smile tentatively at him, raising my hand to toy lazily with the curls flipping over his cap at the back of his neck. We stare at each other for a moment, exchanging unspoken words: lust, desire, enjoyment, playfulness, and compatibility. My grin spreads wider, “Ace Thomas, huh?”

  He grins back at me, the lines at t
he corners of his eyes crinkling. “It was the first thing that came to mind,” he shrugs, raising his eyebrows. “If I’d have hesitated, she would’ve known I was lying.”

  “True,” I concede, taking a pinch of the cotton candy that Colton offers me. “My God, this stuff is over-the-top sweet!”

  “I know. Pure sugar,” Colton chuckles, widening his eyes at me, “That’s why its so damn good!” He looks out at the rides, “Man, when I was a kid, after—” he pauses quietly, “after I met my parents, they’d spoil me by taking me to baseball games. I’d get so sick eating this crap.” The corners of his mouth turn up in a ghost of a smile at the memory. And I can’t help but wonder what life was like for him before he met his parents.

  We lapse into an easy silence, watching the rides and the people around us, taking small nibbles of cotton candy. I am really enjoying myself and spending this time with Colton. He is attentive and engaging and seems as if he really is interested in me as a person. I guess I was expecting more of a surface get-to-know-you, so being proved wrong is a welcome acknowledgment for me.

  Colton moves his hand over to squeeze my knee and points over to the only ride left in our vicinity. “You ready to take on the Zipper, Ryles?”

  I blanche at the thought of the small enclosed cage tumbling endlessly through the air. Being jolted and shoved backwards and forwards while being confined. I swallow loudly. “Not really,” I shake my head.

  “C’mon, be a sport,” he pressures jokingly.

  I can feel the impending claustrophobia of the ride, and I move my shoulders back and forth to ward the phantom feeling away. “Sorry. I can’t,” I mutter, feeling the heat of embarrassment flush through my system. “I’m super claustrophobic,” I tell him, pushing my hair off my face.

  “I’ve noticed,” he says wryly. When I raise an eyebrow at him, he continues, “Remember? Storage closet? Backstage?” he says with a suggestive smirk on his face.