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Adam fidgeted with his collar, feeling like he couldn't breathe. Certainly, a good part of that had to be that Barbara Wheelan (Barbara Wheelan!) had actually agreed to a date with him. They had gone to a local fair, a touring carnival set up at the fairgrounds just outside of town.
The other part was the doubled up jock bras pressing in on his ribs like a vice.
Still, so far things had gone well. He'd done well enough at a ring toss game to win Barbara a small stuffed monkey and then gotten funnel cakes and corn dogs from a stand. Barbara convinced him to ride the Tilt-A-Whirl and they both came off laughing and dizzy. She'd grabbed onto his arm for balance and hadn't let go since, eyes bright and shining in the multicolored whirl of lights around them.
Now they were on the ferris wheel, and for the first time since before he'd met her at the gate to the fairgrounds he was starting to feel nervous. Well, nervous was the wrong word, it wasn't as if he was jittery about whether things were going well, or anxious that she was only being polite.
He was terrified .
The jock bras suddenly felt too tight, pressure and pain stabbing up the left side of his ribs. He was doing everything he could to come off as normal, but Barbara had definitely noticed something was wrong and trapped thirty feet up in the air, his mind was racing for a way to avoid the questions he knew were coming, the questions he had no good answers for.
"Are you alright, Adam?" she asked, her left hand coming around to join her right on his arm.
"I'm fine, just fine," he pushed out through gritted teeth, fooling approximately no one.
Barbara's eyes softened as she looked him up and down. "I've had a great evening, Adam. We can call it a night if you'd like. I think I saw a payphone if you want to call a cab…?"
"No, I'll be fine, I just need to wait for this to pass." He started rubbing his ribs with his right hand, completely unwilling to shake Barbara's grip on his left, and while the pain didn't subside, it was at least more tolerable. If he took small, shallow breaths his ribs didn't complain so bad. "Maybe we could sit for a moment and then I'll walk you home?"
"I'm not really in the habit of letting strange men walk me home after the first date," she said, but there was a bit of a mischievous grin on her face that was throwing him for a loop.
He tilted his head to the side, confused. "Uh, that's fine then. I guess we could get some soft serve, or you could leave if you'd like."
Her grin faltered. "You're hardly a stranger, I was joking." Something on his face must have echoed the confusion he felt, because she elaborated. "I, well, I remember you. From high school."
If the floor had given out in the little ferris wheel car it would have been a relief. She remembered him . Barbara Wheelan, Valedictorian, Class President, volleyball team Captain, senior yearbook's "Most Likely to Succeed", and two-time Homecoming Queen. And she remembered him . The weird shop kid and president of the unofficial Dungeons and Dragons club. She remembered him. Well, no, she didn't remember him at all, she remembered...Adalaide.
The thick, bottle cap glasses and the frumpy dresses that never fit well but were "appropriate for a lady, young miss". The long, uncontrollably curly hair that he'd chopped off the day he moved out of his parent's house. Penny loafers and kitten heels that he'd always trip in when Steve MacNamera decided to make his day even worse.
He wondered if she remembered the day they met, the first time she talked to him. He was in a dumpster, behind the cafe. Which, generally wasn't too bad of a place to end up, especially compared to the one behind the bar on Elm. But unfortunately for him, the trash had been collected that morning. He'd landed hard on his shoulder and his knee and was struggling to get up, much less pull himself out of the dumpster.
She'd appeared, like a golden angel, and without a thought had vaulted into the dumpster beside him. She helped him up, never mind the damp, dark dumpster juice stains on his dress, and just about lifted him out of the dumpster before vaulting out again with ease.
After that, she'd always given him a friendly smile at school, and he knew it was pity and so beyond realistic but his heart would flip. She was just so perfect that he couldn't help falling in love with her a bit.
And then he'd moved back into town, 5 years later, a new man. He'd met her at the same bar on Elm and asked her out and she'd said yes and he thought it was a perfect fresh start, a chance to get to know her without the pity and the memory . But. No.
She remembered him.
He felt the moment stretching awkwardly. Her mouth turned downwards into a frown before opening briefly to say something. She must have decided against whatever it was because she just sort of...gaped for a moment. Adam shifted under the scrutiny before hiding a wince that seemed to break her momentary stupor.
"You didn't realize I knew?" she asked, hesitantly.
"No," he said, his cheeks burning under her gaze.
"Would you have asked me here if you did?" she elaborated, tone still light but gaining confidence.
"Probably not." It wouldn't have been worth the risk, the exposure. "Who else knows?"
She looked away, her brows drawn in contemplation. "I can't speak for everyone in town. You did grow up here, so you never know. It's hard to say." Suddenly, she turned her eyes to him, a sharp and inquisitive look in her eye. After a short moment, her brows softened as realization lot up her face. "But I didn't tell anyone, I'll promise you that."
He looked her in the eyes, needing desperately to believe her, to trust this answer. Those eyes were pretty and green with splashes of blue, like the reflective surface of a pond showing patches of sky through thick forest canopy. They shone clear and bright, her gaze steady and strong where they met his. He deflated.
"Okay," he started, and a line of tension fell away from her shoulders. "Okay, so you knew. You knew and...said yes anyway?"
"Well, yeah silly goose. Of course," she said casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like he was dense for not getting this yet.
"It's far from obvious, Barbara. In fact, I think it's a pretty good question. Why did you say yes?"
"Am I supposed to say no when handsome, kind, smart, funny men ask me on dates? I thought that was the sort of thing people generally agreed to?"
"Well, yes but not…" he vaguely gestured to himself and winced.
"Adam, I really don't care. Maybe I should, I don't know, but I just don't. If me knowing puts you off, we never have to spend time together again. I'd say you never have to see me again, but in a town like Winter Haven…" she trailed off, and he inclined his head to acknowledge. "It's your choice Adam because I'm aware and still willing to choose you."
"You're making this sound more serious than one date," he pointed out.
"One very good date," she said, licking her lips. "And it could be a lot more than one if you play your cards right."
The ferris wheel was slowing, gently bringing them back down to ground level. Barbara quickly whispered, "Do you need help?" but he shook his head minutely.
As the car glided down to stop, he let go of her hand to undo the buckle (he'd forgotten he was still holding it) as the ride attendant lifted the bar. He held his side as he hobbled over to a bench, Barbara and the little stuffed monkey following just a step behind.
She settled into the bench next to him, a little bit of space between their thighs. They both stayed silent, letting delighted screams and carnival music fill the air over the sound of Adam's struggling breaths as they began to even out. Eventually: "Do you mean that? Would you like to see me again?"
Barbara donned a look of mock chastisement, one hand falling to her hip. "Adam Maitland, I believe I just told you that."
"Even knowing who I was in high school?" he pressed, intent on a real answer.
She paused and leaned in closer. "Do you want to know a secret, Adam?" He raised one brow, unimpressed, but she just pouted before furtively continuing. "I couldn't stop staring at you in high school. I actually thought I might be, y'know, into girls since I was clearly into you, but I'm definitely not. Something in me must have just known there was a handsome man underneath all that mess your mother made you wear.
"So, yeah, even knowing you in high school. Because you were still Adam, even if I didn't know it yet."
He was quiet for a moment. "Really?" he eventually produced.
She nudged his side with her elbow. "Of course, Maitland. Dumpster juice and all." She gave another one of those sunny smiles, the kind that made the gathering twilight dispel momentarily, and Adam felt his heart stutter. He promised himself, right there, that he'd do anything to keep seeing that smile for the rest of his life.
Eventually, he recovered enough to stand and escort her home. The sun had long since set when she pulled him down behind the sycamore in her neighbor's yard for a kiss that lit up the night. After just a few precious seconds, she flounced off towards her door, a spring in her step. Adam just stood, a hand pressed to his lips where her's had been so recently, and watched as she waved the little monkey's hand at him from the now open doorway.
He could feel eyes on him as he finally turned away, walking toward his little apartment. Probably a nosy younger sibling, or Barbara's overbearing mother. But, maybe, it was Barbara's eyes following him down the sidewalk.
He needed to get the jock bras off, stretch and maybe ice his side, or he reached hurting himself. He probably should have cared a lot more about that, but Barbara Wheelan (Barbara Wheelan!!) had kissed him, even after saying she remembered him.
He gave a whoop and jumped up to hang from a low overhanging branch for a moment before he heard an explosion of giggling from the house behind him. He felt a smile split his face as he resumed walking, still feeling a bit dopey.
And maybe, if he was very lucky, he'd get to see her smile again tomorrow.