“No thanks.”

“Come on,” he says, pulling off a small piece and holding it between his fingers. “You can’t have your senior fair without cotton candy.”

“You make me feel like a charity case.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, it’s not like that. I just want to show you a good time. I know you fit in just fine here. You’re Miss Popular and all that. But, I still think you probably missed out on a lot. I just want to show you some of it now. Life is too short to miss out on the dumb and insignificant rites of passage.”

“Are you going to sign my yearbook, too?”

“If by yearbook you mean cleavage, then sure.” He smiles and holds his index finger out, the blue stickiness holding on with a death grip. “Here, have some.”

“What, you want me to suck it off your finger?”

He shrugs, but doesn’t move. Oh that’s the way he wants to play? Please. Two can play that game.

I grab his wrist in both my hands and pull his finger close to my mouth, my eyes locked on his. Slowly, I slide my lips over the candy and down to his knuckle, running my tongue along his skin as I suck the last little bit off. He swallows hard and licks his lips, his eyes hard on mine. When I finish, I pull back and smack my lips together. “Yum.”

He shakes his head, grinning. “You know, you could have just grabbed it from me. You didn’t have to lick it off.”

This time I shrug. “I guess you’re right, but that wouldn’t have been as much fun now would it?”

Kip tries his hand at a few dart balloon games, winning small inflatable toys each time he failed to pop more than one. Then he moves on to a basketball game, a milk jug game, and finally a lucky duck game. Each time, he ends up with another small prize that didn’t match up to what he wanted. I can tell he’s getting frustrated, and it’s actually really cute. We have a pile of inflatable hammers and stuffed keychain-size teddy bears at this point, but he isn’t giving up.

“I think I should try to win something for you,” I say, fishing out five dollars from my sweatpants pocket.

“That’s not the way it’s supposed to go,” Kip says playfully, though I think he’s trying to disguise his frustration. I laugh and hand the man at the lucky duck game my money. He’s an older man with a flop of hair that’s half brown and half gray. He seems tired, but smiles a genuine smile nonetheless.

Hundreds of little ducks swirl around in the turquoise blue water of a tiny inflatable pool. I get three chances to pick a duck with a star on its butt. Kip has tried nine ducks with no luck. He is now the dad to three adorable stuffed, consolation-prize ducks, though.

I watch as the ducks circle, my eyes flicking to a new one each time I think I’m going to choose. Finally, I settle on one that keeps catching my eye. It has a strange stain on its rubber head that kind of looks like dried gum and one side of his little body is slightly dented. He’s kind of like the ugly duckling, which makes me like him even more. I wait for him to pass by again and snatch him out of the water, turning to Kip with his butt still facing down.

“Moment of truth,” I say, slowly turning the duck. When the bright lights of the game illuminate a small red star, Kip curses.

“No way!”

“Winner!” the man running the game yells. A bell goes off after he pushes a button and I laugh as Kip shakes his head. “You have your pick of anything you’d like, young lady.”

My eyes scan the plethora of large stuffed animals hanging from the top of the game until I spot a fluffy, goofy looking gray and white shark.

“Do you have any Palm South gear in your apartment yet?”

Kip shakes his head. “Not really. I have a banner thing they gave me at orientation.”

I turn back to the man. “I’ll take the shark.”

When he hands it off to me, I immediately turn and stuff it into Kip’s arms. “There. Your first Palm South University Shark.” The shark is our mascot, which is one of my favorite things about the school. We always have parties during Shark Week on Discovery Channel and we even have an on-campus aquarium with a few small sharks swimming around in it. It’s in the Student Union right by the cafeteria, which makes for an interesting tour stop for possible freshmen and their families.

“I should feel embarrassed, but I think I’m too busy being excited. What should we name him?” Kip’s messy blonde hair falls over his eyes a bit as his smile widens, illuminating the night even more than the pier lights. He has his glasses on tonight, which fits perfectly with the laid back sweats and tank style. I still don’t understand how he can make I just woke up look so damn sexy.

“Sparky?”

Kip scrunches his nose. “That kind of sounds like a male stripper.”

“Hey, you don’t know what this shark does in his spare time. And don’t judge, maybe he’s a good dancer. Maybe he’s the one that gets booked for all the bachelorette parties and sorority functions. Maybe he’s paying off college.”

Kip shakes his head, still smiling. “Well excuse me, I didn’t mean to offend you. Or good ol’ Sparky here.” He tucks the shark under his arm and throws the other around my shoulders, leaving me to carry the small bag of misfit toys.

“So, you said you paddleboard?” Kip asks as we wait in line for the Ferris wheel.

I nod, taking another bite of a fried Oreo we picked up along the way. I know I’ll have to work extra hard in the gym this week to work it off, but I don’t even care right now. Whoever thought of frying this little cookie was a freaking genius.

“Can you teach me? I really want to surf, but maybe I could start with paddleboarding.”

“They’re really, really different. Paddleboarding is pretty easy, anyone can do it really. Surfing takes a lot of skill. But yeah, I could show you.”

“Sweet. So tomorrow morning?”

I suck the last bit of melted cookie off my finger and smile inside as Kip’s eyes react. “I’m busy tomorrow, but I’ll show you sometime.”

“Busy doing what?”

I cross my arms. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh come on,” he says, stepping a little closer to me. “You’re not busy and you know it. Stop acting like hanging out with me is the bane of your existence.”

“I’m not one to cover up the truth.” I smirk.

He shakes his head before pressing his hips against mine, pushing me back against the flimsy silver rail of the ride. “How is it that you infuriate me yet turn me on at the same time?”

My heart rate quickens at his words, my breaths shallowing as his eyes flicker to my lips. I could ask you the same thing, I think, but I don’t say it out loud. His hands fall to my hips and he hooks his thumbs in the pockets of my sweats, tugging me even closer. I feel him harden against me and my chest squeezes tight in response, chills racing through me. His touch is confusing, lighting me on fire and drowning me in ice water at the same time.

Suddenly, someone clears their throat and we both look to our left at the same time to see the line has moved. A short, large woman with fiery red hair holds a cart for us, smiling. “You two want to take this show to the sky?”

I blush and Kip grabs our bag of stuffed animals and my hand, a cocky smirk on his face as he leads the way. Once we’re seated and move up a few pegs as other carts are emptied and then filled again, the wheel finally starts rotating in a slow, mechanical fashion. The music only plays from the speakers on the ground, so when we’re at the top, everything is muffled and faded behind the wind rushing in from the water.

We take in the view of the city and the beach, not really saying much. After a few rounds, we get stuck near the top as they begin exchanging passengers again. Kip stands as much as he can in the small cart and spreads his arms out before yelling, “I’m the king of the world!”

Other passengers on the wheel and bystanders below turn to stare at us and I grab the bottom of his shirt, jerking him back down.