Curved Horizon

by Taylor Brooke

  “They’re here,” Daisy said, sliding her cell phone back into her purse.

  Chelsea tapped her mouth with one finger and studied the menu, which had only three items listed. Corn on the cob. Corn on the cob with butter. Mexican street corn on the cob. “Took ‘em long enough. Which one are you getting?”

  “The one with all the stuff,” she said, and bent to order from the cashier. “Extra,” she forgot the word and used a shaking hand motion until it came to her, “seasoning, paprika, whatever it is. And…” she turned, glancing at Chelsea, “whatever she’s getting.”

  Chelsea opened her mouth.

  Daisy cut her off with a quick, “You paid for the cheese fries; let me get this.”

  It didn’t come as a surprise that Chelsea had a problem with anyone doing anything for her. Daisy expected it, but this was a date—a real date—and they could treat each other without it getting out of hand. They were adults after all, and Daisy had a job after all, and she was perfectly capable of paying for things for her girlfriend after all.

  Girlfriend.

  “I’ll take the same thing—yeah, extra seasoning, please. Thank you.” Chelsea nudged Daisy with her elbow. “You still on earth, honey?”

  “Yes, no, yeah, I’m sorry—here you go,” she handed a couple bills to the cashier. The word kept repeating in her head girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend, and Daisy hated how a ridiculous, juvenile term could whip her stomach into knots.

  They were friends, they’d established that. But they hadn’t talked about anything else. Putting girl in front of friend made everything real. It made their late-night talks something different, it made the kisses and touches and urges into things she couldn’t process. It made Chelsea’s teeth in her lip something beyond making out, and it made Daisy’s hand playing under her skirt a prelude to something besides sex.

  Girlfriend was the term before fiancé which was the term before wife and—

  “Daisy,” Chelsea said, head tipped down so she could speak close to her ear, “whatsa matter?”

  “Nothing.” She flapped her hand and cleared her throat. “What’s next on the list?”

  Chelsea straightened, assuming her role as the taller of the two, and stared at the night sky. “Twinkies, cheese fries, we did the deep-fried Oreos, corn, I think next is the cookie bucket, which we need the boys for, and I want frog legs after, which you won’t eat with me.”

  “They have feelings.” Daisy pushed her bottom lip out in a frown.

  “They taste good,” Chelsea growled through a toothy smile. She lifted onto the tips of her pointed flats and waved over the crowd, trying to get Shannon and Aiden’s attention.

  Daisy grabbed both sticks of street corn from the vendor and handed one to Chelsea just as the boys appeared from behind a family carrying far too many oversized stuffed animals.

  “Sorry we’re late,” Shannon said. His eyes widened when they landed on the corn, and he unashamedly leaned over to bite a chunk from Chelsea’s.

  “Get your own, you brute!” Chelsea laughed, shoving him away with an open hand. “Will one of you eat frog legs with me since my girlfriend won’t?”

  Daisy’s knees locked. She was in the middle of taking a bite from her corn when Aiden elbowed her in the back as he walked by, mouthing the word girlfriend over his shoulder. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one surprised.

  “I will,” Shannon said, his southern accent unmasked as he beamed at Chelsea, both eyebrows raised high on his forehead. “I think I saw fried gator around here somewhere, too.”

  “You eat alligator?” Daisy whined, trying and failing to convince her legs to work.

  Girlfriend. There it was, out in the open, plucked right out of her head and deposited into the world as though it was nothing.

  When did they become girlfriends? Was it before or after their first kiss or their second kiss? Did they cross that bridge when they went to The Hollow together, or the first time Daisy had the courage to touch Chelsea over the fabric of her expensive lingerie, or tonight, when they held hands and bought each other food at the county fair?

  Daisy yearned for something, a feeling, validation, the truth, but everything about Chelsea Cavanaugh seemed far away—a distant thought, a we’ll get there that was missing the someday, because someday happened to be today.

  Shannon hummed pleasantly when Aiden handed him a street corn and pointed at the row of brightly lit game stands to their right. “Make yourself useful and win me something,” he said playfully to Aiden, who narrowed his eyes.

  “I believe I made myself useful, hence our late arrival,” Aiden snapped.

  “I’m going to ignore that.” Chelsea rolled her eyes and glanced from one game stand to the next. “Do they have that target practice one? With the fake rifles?” She bounced on her feet; one cheek was stuffed full of corn. “Because there’s no way I can eat anything else for at least another hour.”

  That is my girlfriend, Daisy thought, sounding out the word before she said it.

  Her phone buzzed in her purse.

  Aiden Maar 7/23 9:21 p.m.

  Whats up with you. chill out

  Daisy Yuen 7/23 9:21 p.m.

  Is she my girlfriend? Are we girlfriends?

  Aiden Maar 7/23 9:22 p.m.

  you tell me

  “Are you guys actually texting each other right now?” Shannon chimed.

  “No,” Aiden said. A psshhh noise flew past his tight smile. Daisy shook her head and rolled her lips together, opting not to say anything.

  “Oh, they totally have it!” Chelsea exclaimed, tossing her mangled cob in the trash. “C’mon, Shannon, bet I can still outshoot you!”

  “You’re not going to outshoot me; I’m a cop,” Shannon said through a laugh, but stumbled along as Chelsea pulled him by his elbow toward the red-topped tent with a neon sign above it that flashed SHOOT ‘EM DOWN.

  “Why are you freaking out?” Aiden whispered. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked beside Daisy. Both of them watched Shannon and Chelsea as they wove through the crowd in front of them. “Isn’t it a good thing?”

  “Yes, no, I don’t—god, I don’t know. We haven’t talked about any of this. We aren’t friends, but we aren’t a thing, I guess. Don’t laugh at me!” Her cheeks burned, and her chest was hot; embarrassment coiled tight under her sternum. She swatted him as he continued to laugh, head tilted back, grinning at the sky. “What? What did I say now that’s so goddamn funny, Aiden?”

  “She’s your Rose Road; of course you’re a thing. Thing meaning soul mate, life partner, girlfriend,” he teased, lowering his voice as they got closer to the tent.

  Daisy waved to Chelsea and Shannon, who stood together in line with their elbows linked and her head perched against his shoulder. She exhaled a sharp breath; her tight lips clamped down as she huffed at Aiden. See, she said with her eyes, I’ll never be that to her.

  Aiden’s eyebrows furrowed, and he popped his lips, heaving a deep sigh. “Oh, come on,” he hissed, “don’t do that, don’t make it about that.”

  “Make it about what?” Chelsea asked, craning to look at them.

  “Nothing, I think I left my wallet at the corn stand, though,” Aiden said, patting the pockets on his jeans, then his leather jacket. “Shannon, can you come with me to see if it’s there? Daisy can take your spot.”

  The color that had gathered in Daisy’s cheeks drained, leaving her feeling numb and vulnerable and angry at once. She should’ve expected nothing less from Aiden.

  “Wanna just meet us at the cookie bucket stand in an hour?” Chelsea asked. She tilted her head and long, golden strands fell out of the loose braid flopped over her shoulder. Every beautiful, graceful thing looked effortless on Chelsea—her perfect eyeliner, her cowboy boots, even the bit of paprika left on her chin. She looked at Daisy and said, “I was thinkin’ we could go on th
e Ferris wheel after this.”

  “Yeah, we’ll meet you for cookies,” Aiden said, and grabbed Shannon’s hand. “Just text us; we’ll be watching the Pink Floyd cover band.”

  “We will?” Shannon mumbled.

  “Yep, we sure will.” Aiden tugged until Shannon followed.

  Daisy watched them go. She saw Aiden lean over to explain, the grin Shannon flashed when he peeked over his shoulder, and the stumble that came from a quick kiss while they made their way through the crowd.

  Chelsea cleared her throat. “Are you planning on telling me what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” Daisy felt her teeth click on the words. They tasted bitter in her mouth and sounded that way when they came out.

  “You can go on ahead,” Chelsea said to a family of four who stood in line behind them. She turned her attention to Daisy again and blinked as curiosity turned to worry. “Well, I can’t fix whatever’s wrong if you don’t talk to me, Daisy.”

  “I’m never going to be him,” Daisy blurted, pointing in the direction Shannon and Aiden had gone. Regret flooded her throat, and she clamped her mouth shut, halting whatever else she might say.

  Clear, blue eyes softened. Chelsea’s shoulders slumped, she sighed through her nose, and her head tilted one way and then the other. “C’mon, we’ll talk on the Ferris wheel.”

  “We don’t have to talk about it,” Daisy said. Her feelings of inadequacy were her own fault, not Chelsea’s.

  “Yes, we do,” Chelsea said and took Daisy’s hand, squeezing hard as she pulled her toward the giant wheel in the center of the fairground.

  Chelsea watched the world drop away. Below them the fairground spread into a cluster of lights, the festival game-tents made a pattern of colors, the Viking Ship careened back and forth, and the Twirl-A-Whirl spun and spun. Her heart thundered, but she couldn’t find the words to express how angry she was, or how hurt.

  The two feelings were at war. Part of her tried to intervene with a simple explanation: Daisy Yuen is jealous. But there was more to it than that, because Daisy Yuen was mending.

  “Shannon is my friend,” Chelsea said slowly.

  Daisy refused to look at her and gazed over the side of the carriage at the people wandering through food lines and ticket booths.

  “My only friend besides Aiden, who sometimes isn’t my friend, and Karman, who is Shannon’s best friend, and you—”

  “I get it,” Daisy snapped.

  Anger flared in Chelsea’s gut and it pushed the hurt to the far reaches of her mind. “Well, fine. If you want to act like that, go right ahead. Here I was thinkin’ my girlfriend would give me the chance to explain, and—”

  “When did I become your girlfriend?” Daisy fidgeted with her purse. She glanced at Chelsea and pushed a piece of white hair over her ear. “Because if you don’t want me to be your girlfriend, or if you’re still not over him, or if you’re still figuring this out, it’s fine. You don’t have to call me that just to call me that.”

  She might as well have been on the Tilt-A-Wheel, because everything in Chelsea’s line of sight turned on its side and stayed there, shifting her thoughts, jumbling her emotions. She wanted to be angry, but the only thing she could sink her nails into was the hurt. It came in waves, up her legs, into her stomach, and settled in her chest. Her head felt light and fuzzy, as if she’d been kicked by a horse.

  “If you’re wondering, Shannon and I were talking about which bear you’d like best and which one Aiden would like best at that stupid shooting game. I was going to get you one.” Chelsea’s voice left her in gusts. She didn’t bother looking away. The only thing she wanted to look at was Daisy, and there she was, sitting across from her, pissed for no reason, looking dark and spectacular in her brooding. Chelsea hadn’t imagined it would be this difficult to not be friends with someone, to be something else with someone, but here they were fighting over what something else could be. “Should I have asked you first?”

  Daisy heaved an annoyed breath. The top of the carriage shadowed Daisy’s face, but Chelsea knew her cheeks were frosted pink under a layer of purple blush and dark bronzer. Her black lips squirmed, fighting against a smile.

  They were dangling at the highest point of the wheel’s revolution. Chelsea glanced over the edge once and then back at her Rose Road, who finally looked back at her.

  “About the bear?” Daisy mumbled.

  “About being in a relationship.”

  Daisy blinked, taken aback.

  “I should’ve talked to you about it first. But for your information, I don’t call you my girlfriend just because,” Chelsea said.

  The tension in Daisy unwound. Her expression changed from calloused and worn to shy and perplexed. She blinked and the glitter on her eyelids caught light from the open bulbs that lined the Ferris wheel. “People like you don’t want people like me, not really, not for long. Not when they’ve had…”

  Chelsea listened to each syllable, taking notice as they fell away. “Shannon’s a wonderful man, one the best men I’ve ever known,” she said gently. “But he’s Aiden’s. And you’re mine.”

  Daisy’s lips parted. She sat with what Chelsea had said as her gaze glided along Chelsea’s face, her brows, eyes, cheekbones, chin, and mouth. “I’m used to losing,” Daisy admitted. “I’m still trying to figure myself out, who I am now, after…”

  Chelsea shuffled to the other side of the carriage and placed herself against Daisy’s side. “You can talk to me about it, or you can process it on your own if you want, but I’m right here, Daisy, listening, as your girlfriend. Unless you don’t want me to call you that yet, in which case I’d still like to call you mine, if that’s all right.”

  “I didn’t think you would keep liking me. I thought we’d make out and have fun and… whatever, and then you’d move on, because I’m me and you’re you and…” Daisy talked with her hands, flinging them up and down, side to side. “Sometimes the Clock is wrong, and I knew you would give us a shot, because you don’t do anything halfway, but I’m fucked up, okay? I went through…”

  Chelsea nodded and waited.

  Realization appeared on Daisy in soft, subtle increments. She swallowed hard and glanced at her lap. “I went through something shitty and now I’m completely disregarding what you’ve been through and I’m sorry –”

  “This isn’t about me. It’s never been about what I went through,” Chelsea said. “But just so we’re clear, the Clock wasn’t wrong. I believe that. I’ve got shit to deal with, yes, but I’ll be here while you deal with yours.” Her fingers trailed Daisy’s knuckles. “And I still want to make out with you all the time if that matters.”

  Daisy fought, but ultimately lost the battle, and her tight mouth split into a grin. Her nose wrinkled when she laughed, and she placed a hand on Chelsea’s face to thumb away a bit of seasoning that lingered on her chin. “I don’t know what keeps us going,” Daisy admitted. She smirked and dragged the tip of her nose against Chelsea’s cheek. “It must be that southern charm.”

  “Oh, no, honey, it’s definitely that vampire thing you’ve got goin’ on,” Chelsea mused and pressed her lips against Daisy’s.

  They kissed between smiles and soft laughs, while hands wandered over clothes and rested on shoulders. Daisy kissed as though she was drinking something sweet and warm, open-mouthed with hungry sounds and breath-deprivation. She kissed unlike anyone Chelsea had ever kissed—and Chelsea had kissed many people—with teeth and force and purpose.

  Chelsea loved it. She loved the way Daisy moved, the way she paid attention to where Chelsea liked to be touched, how roughly she liked to be kissed. Her fingertips pressed against ribs and dug into hipbones; she pulled on Chelsea’s face until she opened her mouth wider and kissed deeper and felt more. Chelsea had never been kissed as violently, and her heart pounded, her head spun, and everything felt surreal—as if something raw
had sunk into her bones.

  Girlfriend.

  Daisy rubbed her thumb along the top of Chelsea’s hand as they walked toward the cookie stand. Her lipstick was gone, rubbed off on cheeks and chins between kisses. Before exiting the carriage, Chelsea helped Daisy remove smears of black from her jaw. Daisy helped Chelsea flick specks of glitter off her cheek. They laughed at the situation—the long-forgotten youth of making out on a Ferris wheel at the county fair after a misunderstanding. The Camellia Clock had changed everything, but some clichés couldn’t be avoided.

  And Chelsea Cavanaugh was Daisy’s girlfriend, which happened to be a shocking revelation she wasn’t sure she could trust yet.

  Chelsea was put together with good intentions. She was charismatic and smart and a fine-tuned liar. But Daisy liked the way she tasted and the sound of her voice and hearing her say you’re mine. She liked being wanted and wanting someone; she liked knowing that Chelsea liked being wanted and wanting, too. Daisy couldn’t decide if she believed her or not, but she would believe enough tonight to be happy, even though she was her own worst form of mental whiplash, jumping between she wants me and she can’t possibly want me.

  “There they are,” Chelsea said, pointing their conjoined hands at the boys standing in front of the bright orange stand. Aiden held a white bucket filled to the top with chocolate chip cookies.

  “The band was awesome; you guys missed out.” Aiden shoved a cookie into his mouth. “These are the best fucking cookies I’ve ever eaten.”

  Daisy grabbed one and took a bite. “These are delicious. I’m actually surprised.”

  “Can we get frog legs now?” Chelsea said through a wide grin. “I’ve been waitin’ all night.”

  “Yes, I saw a truck sellin’ them that way,” Shannon said, pointing over Chelsea’s shoulder.

  Even Aiden’s lips squirmed into a disgusted frown.

  “I overheard some security guards talking about a faulty carousel in one of the warehouses behind the big barn.” Aiden waved toward the far end of the fairground. “Rumor has it, it kept turning on and off on its own, which means it’s haunted, so we should go find it.”