Let Your Heart Drive (12 page)

She whips the chili in and whispers as Brett escapes with Garrett into the dining room, “I really don’t care one way or the other Sin, but I saw you ogling Logan’s ass when he helped carry the yoga mats Friday.” And there it is, the finality in her voice and the I-have-you smirk, she thinks life is all about a perfect ass.

I sit a plate down and ease across the island and smirk back. “Ogling? Are you serious? I have never
ogled
a day in my life.”

Garrett skips back into the kitchen firing his laser gun shouting, “Ogling! Ogling!—

Ogling!”

I crack a giant smile and watch Chelsea’s face flush. I point, following Rett as he bounds around and around the island. “See what you started?”

She collects her bowls of sliced avocados and limes and sidles by me and whispers, “I just want what’s best for you. I want you to be happy.”

“Dance, when you are broken open. Dance, if you have torn the bandage off.

Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood.

Dance when you are perfectly free.”

—Rumi

Hardly any words
were ever voiced between Logan and me, and thankfully, Chelsea never brought the dating topic up again. I think for once in my life she’s letting me follow my own intuition. Which is a major issue for her, sense she’s always played a motherly role, I know she worries. And the relationship with Jake isn’t something I dwell over, because,
and even though I’d never in a million years admit it to her
, I kinda like one of their quotes scripted on the walls at the fitness club –
Live in the moment.
Maybe the yoga hubbub is rubbing off on me, who knows. I haven’t quite mastered the meditating process as of yet, but progress
is
progress, seven minutes is way better than five. 

The hot and humid Oklahoma summer officially sizzles itself away and I’m riveted with blazing, bold colors. From tinseled reds, yellows, and dynamic oranges which soak up all of my sight as we drive to the state fair. I can’t seem to summon one single memory of ever seeing such a kaleidoscopic of fall colors before. I sit in the backseat with Rett and watch as his face brightens. Excitement radiates from his tender blue eyes all the way to his smile, it’s so much enthusiasm I can feel it without even asking,
“Are you
excited
about the fair?”

Chelsea’s cell phone rings from the front seat and I know it’s Dad. I know it the moment she skirts her eyes back behind her and briefly eyes me. Her assertive tone agrees and approves with whatever he’s saying, it’s almost as if she’s ticking off some list, making sure everything is in order. Chief and deputy at their finest.

I switch my gaze to Rett and view the site from his window. The glowing sun hangs low creating this mystical flamboyant stage. The Ferris wheel stands above it all like a beacon, bright, mesmerizing, and begging for us to come ride it. Ticket stands and concession booths light up and the closer we get the more I feel my own adrenaline pumping. Leaning over, I smile the biggest, goofiest grin at Garrett and he starts pointing at all the rides he wants to go on.

“Look, Sinny!” he squeaks with pure joy and taps on the glass. “I want to ride on a roller coaster first, the barn stormer next, the pirate’s ship over there and the spider ride and then,” he pauses, catches a breath and finishes with, “the zombie castle!”

I quirk a grin and glance at him. “You’re not afraid of anything, are you?”

He matches my smile and shakes his head adamantly. “Nope, not even zombies.”

I recline back in my seat next to him and ask, “Because…?”

He takes his eyes off me and returns back to staring out of his window and quips, “Because you made the zombie force field tents and you’re not afraid of anything either.”

His last words strike a sharp chord in me, but how do you tell a child you are afraid? You don’t. And I’m not about to drag him into my disturbing world of fears. Instead, I ruffle his hair and maintain an upbeat tone and reply just as adamantly as he had, “Nope, zombie castle will be a piece of cake.”

We park and pay for a mega ride pass and I am
not
thanking the heavens that Chelsea stuffed us with her lacto-vegetarian Shepard’s pie. We walk by food vendors that make me stop and want to start a rebellion against her lack of taste buds. Krispy Kream cheeseburgers, deep-fried Snickers, caramel apples, and chocolate covered bacon immediately beckons me, I’ve never been one to go overboard with food and eat everything thing in sight,
but
passing these stands makes my mouth water. Except, the scorpion pizza with real scorpion tails, like it’s laced with pepperoni slices. I sidestep around that line and catch up with Brett, Chelsea and Garrett.

They’re waiting in another line for the Scooter, I can see the disappointment in him that the roller coaster isn’t his first ride. But he never whines or grumbles, I think the fact that he’s here,
actually here.
He’ll get to do all the rides he wants eventually and within his height limits. Patiently we wait and when it’s our turn I hop in a two-tone, silvery blue car and Garrett naturally sinks in beside me. We chase after Chelsea and Brett, bouncing and swerving trying to bump into each other with flashing, multicolored lights and loud music playing in the background. Brett desperately jerks their steering wheel trying his best to dodge us, but it’s to no avail, we’re the Hulksters, smashing everything in our path.

Garrett’s still laughing as our ride ends and we race over to the Starship 3000. He’s quickly forgotten his agenda of which rides-must-be-first and eagerly hops around me while we wait. Brett teases my sister over the next ride, the Ring of Fire, she rolls her eyes at him and points over toward the games. Something a little less dramatic.

“Oh, c’mon Chelsea. It’s just three minutes of spinning around and around and around,” Brett taunts her with a sly sideways smirk. “Besides, I thought you teach in your yoga classes how to help with vertigo issues?”

She shakes her head, not giving him any credence and retorts back, “Ooh, no…I think you have someone who will eagerly take my place tonight.” She pats my shoulder, offering me up like I’m some kind of olive branch. We’ve both loved carnivals, but Chelsea had her fill a long time ago on the Fireball, sixty feet above the air and spinning every which way made her turn so many shades of white I thought she had turned into a ghost. I glance between Brett and her wondering if he can detect her phobia.

The silence lingers and I can’t take it any longer and I butt in, “Yeah sure, why not?” I look down at Garrett and smile. “We’re fearless, right Rett?”

He bobs his little head vigorously and aims a finger toward the games his mom just pointed at and says, “And I’ll win that stuffed banana for you Sinny!”

I laugh and tap his nose. “It’s almost as big as you, Rett.”

He shrugs like it’s no sweat, his determination is etched in his superhero stamina. Our turn soon comes to riding the Ring of Fire, Chelsea and Garrett head their way, Brett and I strap in for three minutes of
I hope I can prolong Chelsea’s Shepard’s pie from hurling out.
I’m not sure if it’s the mélange of foods, the crowd of people, or the subtle scent of livestock balancing in the air, but my stomach painfully knots. I plaster a smile on as the operator checks our double-lock harnesses. Country music blares and Brett snaps his fingers to the ditty, a slow stretch of a grin appears on him.

“You ready?”

I nod and retighten my death-grip on the shoulder restraints and his grin brightens. He turns and asks the kid sitting next to him if this is his first time riding. He replies with, “Naw, this is my second time.”

Brett then asks the boy seated beside me, “You scared?”

But he just shakes his head, a loud horn boasts that it’s time to start the ride and we begin moving. My hands feel sticky and my mouth dries up as we rock backwards and then we sail forward. The momentum takes us back and forth, back and forth, until finally, we are completely upside down. Chelsea’s pie lodges somewhere in the middle of my sandpapered throat and I couldn’t scream even if I wanted to. It’s a whole other story for Brett, he’s having a blast, yelling at the top of his lungs and laughing through it all. My hair falls and covers half of my paling face, thankfully. Just as I grasp my bearings we flip over again, my ears ring and I can’t focus. Everything around us swirls from the dark evening sky to a blur of leftover peripheral vision.

Two minutes later we’re rocking back to where we started. Brett’s demeanor is the exact opposite of mine, I think somehow he’s returned to his own childhood. He jokes and cuts up with the kids beside us while we wait for the ride to come to a complete stop. He doesn’t seem fazed in the least and I’m afraid he’ll ask to ride it again. As we exit the area my legs have turned into marshmallows and my gut still churns. My jaw clenches tightly and I feel the telltale signs Chelsea’s damnable pie doesn’t want to stay where it should. Brett smoothly weaves through the crowd while I stagger behind, and that’s when I collide into some guy.

For half a nanosecond I brace myself against him, rashly trying to find my equilibrium. And in that moment I wait for him to push me away or yell at me,
“What’s your problem?”
but he doesn’t. Instead, he gently holds my arm and says, “Whoa, easy there, are you okay?”

I straighten my poise and take in the guy that saved my ass from falling face first into the dirt. Warily my eyes wander his, they’re shaded by a cowboy hat, but I can clearly see how soft his dark brown eyes scan me. He’s sharply dressed in fitted blue jeans and a black T-shirt, I can’t tell if he’s standing bare foot or in some absurd ostrich patchedworked designed boots because I won’t drop my eyes any lower.

I raise my hands up and step back. “Sorry, I...I didn’t mean
to—
”

“No, it’s okay, really. Are…” he pauses a breath and leans slightly to the side as if he’s getting a better angle of me—
like he’s examining my pasty face
. “You sure you’re okay?”

By now his scrutiny has my ears on fire. I grasp my hair and drag it over my ears hopefully inconspicuously, swallowing I open my mouth and find a word to describe my faltering ways. “
Yeah…
” It comes out like a faint whisper, weak and frail and I’m even shocked how it sounded. So, I clear my throat and attempt to sound more together, but Brett shows up. He instantly glares at the guy and then back to me, silently asking if everything is okay.

“C’mon, they’re waiting for us over at the zombie castle,” Brett announces with an urging nod in the other direction. I get the hint, the whole scene with this guy, a stranger and my flabbergasted expression, I’m sure makes Brett uncomfortable. I wave a reassuring hand and utter, “Sorry, again and
t-thank
you…” He lets go of my arm and I turn away, but as I walk with Brett I steal a glance at him over my shoulder.

He’s carefully watching us and I realize I’ve heard his voice before.

Trey.

“Love isn’t something you find. Love is something that finds you.”

–Loretta Young

Chelsea pats the
palm of her hand against my forehead and then my cheeks. “Sin, you look bad, you wanna take a moment
and—”

I grip her upper arm and tug her closer before we enter the zombie apocalypse. “We need to talk.” 

She motions for Brett and Garrett to go on and we step off to the side. Her brows knit together and she asks pensively, “What? What is it? You look like you’re catching something, do feel sick?”

“Yeah, I’m catching something. I think I’m hallucinating!”

“What?”

I run my hands over my face and look around us, she’s not going to believe this. She’s probably going to want to cut the night short and go home,
and call Dad
. I think about the last time I talked with Trey, it was a few days ago, nothing major. He’d mentioned going out for the weekend and I told him the same, but I’d never thought about where or even if we lived in the same vicinity.
Why? Why had I never thought to ask?
Because I never would have guessed it could be possible, here, now. Real. He’s real.

I huff away a wavy strand of hair from my face and explain, “Chelsea… do you remember the guy I was telling you about, the roadside guy?”

She tucks her lower lip in and thinks, a second passes, and then another before she snaps her fingers. “The guy with the voice?”

“Yeah. That guy, well…I think he’s here,” I state and direct my eyes toward the Ferris wheel. He stands out more than most, mainly because he carries himself confidently and it makes it easy to spot him. He’s not built like Logan, he’s taller, darker eyes and enigmatic. Something about him lays concealed and I watch as he wanders by the horde of people as if he’s looking for someone. There’s a lot of men wearing hats, some are even wearing baseball caps, but none of them triumph over the way Trey pulls it off.

“Sinead…Where?” Chelsea implores cradling my face and forcing me to look her straight in the eyes. “Where?” she repeats louder this time.

“I’m not going to point him out, Chelsea, he may see us!” I rush out and tow her with me over to the color-coordinated, cotton candy stand. We both quietly peek around it at the same time and I whisper, “I’m pretty sure it’s him.”

She incredulously looks up at me. “Don’t you have his number? Call him, and if he answers then you know it’s him.”

“
Just call him?
” I ramble out like it’s the most ludicrous thing to do.

“Call him,” she fumes impatiently.

I shoot her a panicky glance and punch in his number, slowly I lift the cell phone to my ear and peer around the stand. My heart’s hammering inside my chest as the
what if’s
begin to stack up like Tetris pieces.
What if it’s not him? What if it is?
What if it’s him and he’s not alone?  Oh God… what am I doing?

“Hey Sin,” he answers on the second ring and it’s that same deep, appealing at ease type of voice, the very one I’ve fantasized too many nights over. And now I can see him, standing across from me, with wandering dusky eyes searching for someone and some part of me wants that someone to be me. My sister yanks on my scarf persistently and sends me one of her quizzical looks.

“Well? Is it him?” she demands leaning out of sight and up against the cotton candy stand. She fans herself and bats her eyes at me. “Please say yes, because he’s eight seconds from taking my breath away.”

I jerk my scarf away and shush her.

“Hey…there Trey,
uh…
” I peer around and track his stroll through a line and then he stops. He’s still just on the other side of the Ferris wheel and I stare as he tips his hat back giving me a better view of his profile.

Chelsea bumps her elbow against mine and whispers, “Ask him what he’s doing right now.”

I scrunch my brows at her and mouth, “
What?
”

She points at my phone and reiterates her words. I shake my head a ‘no’ but my lips begin to move automatically, “So, what’s happening right now?” Inwardly, I am choking myself
why does my voice sound so squeaky and way off pitch?

He scans to his left for a short time and then composedly he slides one hand inside his front pocket and looks up at the Ferris wheel. “Uh, I’m just hangin’ out right now, you?”

“Me? Oh, well I’m just hanging out too…” Chelsea places a hand firmly on my back and shoves me. I practically run forward and ease my cadence and send her a lip curling scowl.

Now, it’s her turn to silently mouth, “Go… I’ll be right here.”

The ground sounds deafening as my shoes tread a path closer to the enormous spinning wheel, the only thing that’s separating Trey and me. My mouth suddenly consumes all my natural saliva and I’m afraid if I part my lips they’ll crack. I feel the pounding of a low-toned bass from some far away music or maybe it’s my drumming erratic heart. I can’t tell anymore, because I’m standing directly across from him, and he looks like he’s staring right through me.

“Trey?”

“Yeah?” he says still staring at me, but I don’t think it registers to him that the girl he’s talking to is standing right across from him.

“How do you like your funnel cakes?” I ask with a maturing smile.

He laughs and slips his eyes from me, calmly he takes a side step back and looks toward a couple passing by. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? I mean, you’re at the state fair, how can you not have funnel cakes, right?”

His movement freezes and he starts twisting around and I’m sure his mind is swimming. “You’re here…at the state fair, Sin?”

“Yeah, I am and I hate to say it, but if you’ve had a funnel cake or one of those deep-fried Snickers, I hate you,” I tease him.

He laughs again, but his eyes turn solemn. “Where are you?” 

I study the lights flickering as the wheel rotates between us.
God, am I really doing this?
I steal a fleeting look over to my sister and she’s half hunched over giving me a double thumbs up. I square my shoulders and reply, “Well…I kind of ran into you like a second ago…” Through the passing Ferris wheel seats I wave at him.

“You mean the girl that collided into me?” he asks with his voice full of growing doubt.

“Look, I’m really sorry about that. I just got off the Ring of Fire ride
and—
” His eyes make an immediate aim back toward me and any coherent words evaporate. I’m no longer invisible to him, I’m no longer this faceless, familiarized voice. I’m someone physical, in the flesh standing mere yards away.

“And you were looking like you had your fill of rides,” he concludes with the widest, sexiest grin. And then he does something that sends goose bumps all up and down my skin. He waits as another cluster of people swagger past him, then he strides toward me. My head whirls.
What do I do?

I unlock my feet from their cemented comfort and I walk toward him too. “I know how this must look…” I mumble out hesitantly.

Still on his phone, the distance quickly disintegrating between us as he says, “Like you’re stalking me?”

Five more steps and he’s standing in front of me. I press end on my phone and hold my hand out. “Hi, I’m Sinead Noelle and I strongly believe your assumption is wrong.”

He takes my hand in his, it’s extremely warm, caressing, and I don’t pass out or get the jittery butterflies dancing festively inside. But, I do feel heat from the very tips of my toes to the very top of my head, his penetrating look burns through my soul and I know the fluttery butterflies have justifiably liquefied.

“Trey Reese and wrong? You sure?”

“I’m positive, I mean how could I add stalking when I’m too busy trying not to puke on people?”

He nods with a hint of grin. “Fair enough.”

Another band belts out and buzzers blare from games. People, the young and the old, migrate by us like we’re the only two beings left on the planet. I swallow hard and I swear it sounds loud enough that I’m pretty confident he can hear it. But he never mentions it and I almost smirk because usually we always have something to say when we’re on the phone. Now, we’re two mutes. I’m not sure if it’s the realization that we’re both real,
here—together
, but I would love to know what he’s thinking.

I rock back on my heels. “
So…
”

“I never imagined how beautiful you’d be, Sinead,” he states so calmly, so daringly that I’m collecting air through my gaping mouth. If my stunned silence doesn’t throw him off he doesn’t show it. He aims a thumb toward the food vendors. “Do you feel up for some carrot funnel cake?”

My smile becomes more evident, it doesn’t matter how much I try to hide it. I press a hand over my chest and reply, “I would really kill for a turkey leg or a huge bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, but yeah, carrot
funnel cake sounds perfect.” I eyeball Chelsea and she’s switched her stance, instead of hunched over in spy mode she’s pretending to stand in line for cotton candy.

As we walk by her, Trey regards me watchfully, like he’s still not quite sure I’m the girl. The one he’s talked through numerous nights with, the one he’s flirted with too many times to count, the one he stayed on the phone with and listened to her mumble in her sleep. I tuck my hands inside my back pockets of my jeans and peer up to him.

“It doesn’t seem real, does it?” I ask examining his deep dark eyes.

He cocks his head to the right a bit, observing me the same way. “No, it really doesn’t. So does this mean I’m no longer a stand-in boyfriend or your zombie informant, no more tent building for us?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” I point toward the zombie house where Garrett and Brett are and announce, “My nephew and brother-in-law are probably battling zombies right about now.”

“So you’re here with your family? And the guy that was with you a moment ago
was…
” 

“Was my brother-in-law, Brett,” I reply waving a dismissing hand like it should clear the air, hoping he doesn’t get the wrong idea. “I’m alone…
well,
I’m not here with a guy, except for Brett, he’s a guy, obviously, but not
with
me…”

I ramble on and on, growing more flustered with myself.
God what’s wrong with me, why am I not making any sense?

“I get what you mean,” he remarks soothingly, grinning at my antics. We’re next in line and I close my eyes briefly as he tells the lady behind the window our order. It’s the same risqué tone, warm and effortlessly charismatic. The spellbinding moment doesn’t last very long as he turns to me and asks, “Think this will cover your fixation for turkey legs and Doritos for now?”

I vaguely nod, grasping the warm paper plate piled sky-high with a funnel cake drowning in a heavenly cinnamon sugar mixture. The fluffy white powdered sugar hits me and my stomach begs to reconcile its refusal of food for the night. He chuckles lowly which makes my whole body come alive as he says before he takes a bite, “Better get some, I’m kinda known to devour everything in my sight.”

My throat dries up and my eyes land on his, I could take his words to mean something entirely different with the way he’s looking at me. There’s a chemistry building between us and all the doubt that I’d worried over blows away just as breezily as the autumn wind. He likes what he sees and I’m tumbling down into a rabbit hole. Chelsea’s right, somehow along the way I’ve passed the point of no retreat. We’re not two strangers meeting by chance…
this has to be a sign
.

“Is that so?” I take a respectable bite and have faith my airway doesn’t suddenly become obstructed. “Well you certainly don’t look like someone who would lie about what they would devour.”

He swallows and I suck in a tiny breath as he slowly licks his lips. Some men have James Dean kind of lips, expressive but not too full. As for Trey, he has that right combination and I begin to wonder how many women have kissed, maybe even sucked on those previously sugarcoated lips.

He shakes a finger at me as if he knows what I’m thinking, but counters with, “Didn’t you call me ambitious or was it egotistical?”

“Actually, I think I called you both.” I smirk and take another bite.

“Ouch, now that doesn’t sound like very good qualities for a hypothetical stand-in boyfriend.” 

“Well…I’ve called you a lot of things,” I retort feeling not so self-conscious, I wipe the corners of my mouth and match his libidinous smile.

“
Like…?
” he challenges stepping closer. I smell his enticing cologne, note the way his shirt emphasizes the structure of his firm upper body and barely feel my feet beneath me.

I inhale a desperately needed breath and start to say, “Well I’ve called
you—
” My words halt instantly when a beautiful brunette saunters up and prissily nudges on his arm. She’s a couple of years older than me, curvier and doesn’t even give me a second glance. A little girl covering her ears cradles herself in the woman’s arms. They’re both stunning with the same long chocolate-brown hair and dark lashed eyes. My heart hits a kill switch,
my god, is this his girlfriend? His wife?
Why on Earth haven’t I thought about this before?