Unpacking was way easier than I thought. I hadn’t brought much – mostly clothes, shoes, toiletries, and some granola bars for late-night snacks. While I was putting away my stash, it hit me: Mira was the best roommate ever. Second day in, and she’d already stocked the kitchen like a mini-mart – fresh fruit, candy, canned soup, you name it. Bathrooms? Fully loaded with toilet paper, cleaning supplies, the works. And get this – she’d even helped me fold my clothes. I felt a twinge of guilt. I’d been off with Jack all day, leaving her to move in alone, and now I felt like the world’s biggest slacker.
“You have to wear this tonight!” Mira declared, thrusting an outfit at me. White shorts, wedges, a navy tank. Cute, yeah, but I could already feel the goosebumps prickle my skin.
“It’s cute,” I admitted, eyeing the thin fabric. “But, seriously, won’t I freeze?”
“Please! It’s August and it’s gonna be packed, body heat, you know?” She started folding the clothes, laying them on my bed. “Besides, you can always bring a sweater if you’re desperate. I’m wearing the same thing in red.” She paused, a sly grin spreading across her face. “And you never know who we’ll meet. This outfit…” she gestured to the ensemble, “total game changer.” I chuckled, turning back to my binders. “Unless…”
“Unless, what?” I asked.
Mira paused, fiddling with one of her red curls. “Unless you already have a boyfriend.”
“Hmm?” I laughed, a little awkwardly. “No, I’ve never really dated before.” I felt my cheeks start to burn a deep red.
“How?” Mira scoffed in disbelief. “You’re gorgeous, how did you not date in high school?”
I shrugged, wishing we’d change the subject. “I don’t know…” I mumbled.
“It’s because of Jack, isn’t it?”
My jaw dropped. “Jack?”
Mira rolled her eyes and sank onto my bed. “I’m not blind!” she remarked. “That guy drove you here all the way from… where was it? Boston? Then spent the entire day with you downtown… which, by the way, is a date. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, helped you unpack all of your stuff into your dorm room.” She flipped her red curls behind her shoulder. “You’re not gonna convince me he isn’t into you.”
I wondered if he saw me that way…
“It’s not like that…” I attempted anyway.
Mira pursed her lips and gave me a skeptical look. She didn’t say anything, which made me squirm a little bit.
“Nothing is going on between us, really. We have been friends since before I can remember. There’s never been anything… more.”
Jack? A friend. Always. But then again… I’ve seen the way other girls looked at him, those lingering glances when we were out. And yeah, the gym time definitely worked in his favor. Plus, if I was being real with myself, he did make me feel… special. But like him? Like, actually like him?
“Outfit’s decided then!” Mira bounced off the bed, and clapped her hands together decisively. “My turn to get ready!” She skipped out the door, leaving a trail of perfume and excitement.
I sighed. Fine. Mira had been a lifesaver since I got here, and she had amazing style. Besides, if I’d refused? Yeah, not an option. As I brushed my hair, taming my blond waves, added a swipe of mascara, and spritzed my favorite perfume, Jack kept popping back into my mind.
Attractive? Please. Everyone thought so. Liked him? Absolutely. He was my best friend. Funny, smart, ridiculously caring… he was impossible not to like. But if he asked me out? My mind went blank. That… I couldn’t picture.
“Ready?” Mira asked, suddenly appearing in my doorway.
“All set,” I answered, giving myself one last look-over and following her out the door.
The fair was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Bright lights illuminated the night, transforming the grounds into a dazzling spectacle. Animals performed tricks. Ponies offered rides. The air buzzed with a symphony of frying onions and spun sugar, drawing crowds to the food stalls. A live band thumped out a rhythm, and couples swayed together to the lively music. The vibrant atmosphere, the collision of sounds, and the mouthwatering smells of the fair mesmerized me. Something about the spectacle made me believe that tonight was going to be a night I’d never forget.
“I can’t remember the last time I had fried dough!” Mira exclaimed as she took another bite. I laughed and wandered with her through the sea of people.
Her eyes lit up, and she pointed excitedly ahead of her. “We’re doing this!”
I craned my neck to peer past the crowd. There, bathed in the glow of bright red fluorescent lights, stood Woodie.
“Oh, no, no, no.” I laughed, shaking my head. “You want to ride a mechanical bull?”
“Obviously! It’s a fair! This is what tonight was made for!” She nodded excitedly, fighting her way to the front of the line, dragging me along with her. As tiny as she was, she sure was strong.
“If I do it, you’ve got to do it too!” she dared me.
Seeing the thrill in her eyes, it was impossible to say no. “All right,” I reluctantly agreed. “Just, you know, try not to laugh too hard when I make a complete fool of myself.”
A wave of nervous excitement washed over me. This was going to be interesting.
“I can’t make any promises,” she called over her shoulder as she mounted the bull.
The worker, a burly man with a booming voice, yelled some incoherent instructions in her ear, and she nodded eagerly. He gave a thumbs up, and with a shuddering jolt, Woodie sprang to life.
The ride began with a gentle rocking motion, but soon, the bull’s movements became more unpredictable. A series of tight turns and abrupt jolts threw Mira off balance. At one point, the bull reared back, then lunged forward, throwing Mira from her seat. I winced as the crowd erupted in cheers and laughter. With a grin, Mira dusted herself off, took a playful bow to the crowd, and walked back over to my side.
“Your turn!” she said, pointing at the ride.
I gave her a sly grimace and shoved the half-eaten fried dough into her hands.
“You ready, miss?” asked the operator.
“As ready as I’ll ever be!”
“Here are the rules,” he shouted at me after I had somehow managed to climb atop the bull. “Hold on for thirty seconds. Only thirty seconds. You can use only one hand to hold on. Only one hand. Try not to fall off.” He gave me an encouraging wink before turning away.
A single nod was my only reply. I glanced up and found Mira’s bright red hair standing out from the thick crowd. She was beaming at me, cellphone in hand, capturing every moment.
Great.
I looked back at the operator. He gave me a thumbs up, and Woodie began to rock beneath me.
The ride started out smoothly, a gentle rocking back and forth. Then, the speed picked up. I felt myself being tossed and turned, slammed against the bull’s back as I struggled to hang on. Suddenly, a wave of déjà vu washed over me, and my body froze.
This all seemed too familiar.
The cheers from the crowd faded, replaced by the deafening thud of my own pounding heart. My mind went blank. All I could hear was my own ragged breath echoing in my ears. The vibrant fairground transformed into a blur, a chaotic mess of motion and fear. I was transported back to that terrifying moment on the highway, the icy grip of panic tightening around my chest. It felt as if I were being hurled against the side of the car again, forced to stare at the jagged rocks just waiting for me as the car teetered on the edge of the cliff.
Terror seized me. I gripped the bull tighter, my knuckles white, but my body remained paralyzed with fear. My mind screamed at me, a single, desperate mantra: Don’t let go. Don’t let go.
Then, the bull bucked.
I was thrown in every direction, my head bouncing with full-blown whiplash, my legs flailing wildly. The world spun into a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors. I felt myself losing my grip, slipping closer and closer to the rocky edge. My eyes snapped shut, the image of the jagged mountainside flashing before me. I knew that if I let go, it would mean the end for me. With one final, brutal jolt, I was flung from the bull, soaring through the air, a silent scream trapped in my throat.
But… The rocks never touched me.
I didn’t hit the ground…I wasn’t even touching it…
I was… floating above it.
I opened my eyes to find two deeply rich brown eyes gazing down at me.
My heart sputtered out of control.
I had landed in the arms of a man. His dark brown, almost black hair fell in rakish curls across the top of his head, a touch of untamed elegance that contrasted with the sharp precision of the neatly trimmed sides. His skin was a light, almost luminescent shade that seemed to glow against the carnival lights, and his full lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. His sharp jawline, the strength in his features, and the way he held me—like I weighed nothing at all—sent a flutter of alarm—and something deeper, something foreign—through me. The muscles in his arms flexed as he adjusted his hold, and I felt the heat of his body in every inch of contact. He carried me with a quiet confidence I hadn’t known before.
He smelled of woodsmoke and fallen leaves—an oddly grounding scent, like something ancient, something I could get lost in. The thought was absurd, but in that moment, I couldn’t deny the pull of it.
A flush crept up my neck, and I caught myself wondering if his lips always curved into that slight, teasing smile when he spoke. My heart pounded erratically, as though I’d forgotten how to breathe. His proximity, his raw magnetism—everything about him had me hypnotized, pulling me closer despite myself.
“Are you hurt?” His voice was low, like thunder rumbling across a quiet night, and I could feel the vibrations deep in my chest, like it was meant to shake me to my core. I forced myself to focus, resisting the urge to let his voice wrap around me and pull me under.
“I… um…” My words came out in a stammer. I couldn’t seem to form a proper response. His presence scrambled my thoughts.
Then reality slammed into me.
“You caught me!” I blurted, flustered. I’d been so caught up in his presence that I hadn’t even realized I was still in his arms. I started to squirm, but he set me down gently. His hand lingered a moment longer, steady—almost possessive.
“You came flying my way,” he said, his voice laced with something dangerous and amused. His smile widened, a gleam of something dark and captivating in his eyes. “It was just reflex. I couldn’t let you hit the ground.”
I looked up at him, now fully aware of his presence. He was striking—towering over me with a hardiness that made me think he’d lived most of his life outdoors. Lean and strong, he moved with an effortless grace that contrasted the untamed strength beneath his all-black ensemble—jeans, T-shirt, and leather jacket—a look that exuded confidence rather than rebellion.
Every feature of his was sharp, like he’d been sculpted from stone—his dark, tousled hair adding a touch of ruggedness to his otherwise perfect appearance. But it was his eyes that drew me in—intense and unblinking, like they saw something in me that I wasn’t ready to face.
My pulse raced, beating to a rhythm of its own. Talking to guys was usually a minefield for me, but this… this was different. He was different.
“T-thank you,” I stammered, offering my hand, my fingers trembling slightly. “I’m Faye.”
His gaze softened slightly, but there was still that underlying intensity, the quiet force that seemed to simmer just below the surface. “Hello, Faye,” he said, his voice smooth, but his eyes gleaming. “I’m Alexander. But I’d prefer it if you called me Xander.”
When our hands touched, a jolt, like static electricity, surged through me. I looked up at him, flustered, and caught the flicker of a frown crease his brow. He must have felt it too…
“I… uh, sorry,” I muttered, my voice barely a whisper.
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, his voice dropping into a low, teasing drawl. “So,” he said with a low, commanding chuckle. “I’m impressed. It’s not every day a girl comes flying my way like that. Makes me wonder what else you’re capable of…”
He stepped closer, his presence almost suffocating, and for a moment, the world outside us seemed to shrink. “Come on,” he continued, his voice low and coaxing, “Let’s find somewhere quieter. I’d like to know more about you.”
Was this actually happening to me?
“I… uh… can’t,” I stuttered, glancing around nervously.
“No?” he prompted, leaning in closer.
His closeness consumed me. I wanted to say yes, to lose myself in the moment, but a nagging sense of responsibility tugged at me.
“I came here with a friend,” I explained, reaching for my phone and pulling Mira’s contact up on my screen. “I should probably find her.”
He gently took my arm to lead me away, my head snapped up and he paused, glancing back toward the bustling crowd. “Just for a moment,” he murmured, smoothly slipping my phone from my fingers. “Wouldn’t want your friend to worry.”
Before I could even ask what he was doing, he’d deftly typed a message, pressed send, and slipped the phone back into my hand. “There. All set. She knows you’re safe and you’ll come find her later.” He gave me that disarming smile again, the one that made me feel both reassured and a little breathless. “Now, where were we?”
He grabbed my hand before I could protest and pulled me through the crowd. That familiar spark—a warning jolt of electricity—flared between us. But this time, he held on. Tight. His grip was warm, steady… and I didn’t hate it.
Xander led me to a brightly colored game booth. “Have you ever played one of these before?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
“No, I can’t say that I have,” I answered, releasing his hand and taking a seat on one of the stools. “But I’m up for the challenge.”
He looked at me with an intrigued expression that quickly morphed into a heart-melting smile as he sat on the stool next to me.
“It’s your funeral,” he teased, slamming cash down on the counter with a playful grin.
The operator startled at Xander’s intensity, but quickly recovered and started up the game.
We each grabbed a squirt gun, aiming at our cartoon targets. “On your mark… get set… go!” the operator shouted.
We fired our water guns with all our might, trying to propel our cartoon characters up the pole. The more we hit the target, the higher our cartoon climbed. I was neck and neck with Xander, but when I glanced over at him, my aim faltered. I tried desperately to realign, but as the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game, it was obvious Xander had won.
I sighed, the sound more exasperated than defeated. Before I could regroup, Xander turned on his stool. In one fluid motion, he leaned in—his arms bracketing the sides of my stool, hands gripping the edges. Not tight, not forceful. Just close.
“Did I distract you?” he murmured, his voice low and inches from my ear.
A tremor traced down my spine. I caught myself leaning slightly back, instinctively creating space, and crossed my arms—casual, but firm. “Is that what this is?” I asked, arching a brow. “A distraction?”
His smile curved into something crooked, almost smug, and he reached back to the game booth without breaking eye contact. “Maybe,” he said, plucking a prize from the operator and holding it out. “But it’s a good one.”
He placed the small stuffed unicorn in my hand, his thumb brushing against mine—light, intentional. Heat bloomed in my chest, but I didn’t let it show. Not much, anyway. His gaze lingered—drawn to the quiet flush rising in my cheeks.
“Thanks,” I said, a bit too evenly. “You’re really committing to the whole mysterious stranger thing.”
His eyes sparked with something unreadable. “Stranger, huh? That’s cold.”
“Is it?” I tilted my head, feigning thoughtfulness. “We did just meet.”
He chuckled softly. “True. But you don’t feel like a stranger to me.”
That hit harder than it should have. I held his gaze a beat longer than I meant to, then shifted—crossing one leg over the other, leaning back just slightly. Not enough to break the moment. Just enough to remind him I wasn’t going to fall so easily, no matter how close he got—or how many carnival prizes he won me.
Xander didn’t pull back. But his smile deepened, amused. Like he saw the line I’d drawn… and was already planning how to cross it.
I glanced around, searching for a safe out. “Maybe I should go find Mira.”
He was quiet for half a second. Then, “In a little.” His hand gently grazed mine again, coaxing rather than insisting. “First, I have another idea.”
Before I could ask, he was already guiding me away from the booth—toward the Ferris wheel, its lights blinking like a dare.
People loitered near the entrance, a slow-moving line curling past the ticket booth. Xander didn’t slow. His grip on my hand was steady—confident in a way that made it hard to pull back without making a scene.
“We can’t just skip the line,” I whispered, glancing at the crowd. Glares from people waiting their turn scraped against my skin. I dropped my eyes.
His smile barely flickered. “Sure we can,” he said, tone light but sure. He didn’t look at me when he said it—just kept walking.
The ride operator gave him a look, equal parts tired and annoyed. But Xander released my hand and stepped in close, speaking low enough that I couldn’t make out the words. Something in his posture—shoulders relaxed, voice calm, but stare steady and unflinching—made the moment hum with quiet pressure.
A beat passed. Then the operator sighed, gave a mock salute, and waved us forward. “You two enjoy.”
Xander took my hand again without asking.
“You’re pretty persuasive,” I said as he helped me into the gondola, securing the metal safety bar with a precise motion.
His smirk deepened, and he met my gaze. “So I’ve been told.”
The ride jolted to life beneath us. The sudden shift threw me sideways, my shoulder bumping into him—solid and warm. My heart kicked hard, more from the contact than the motion. I straightened quickly, brushing back a strand of hair and pretending not to notice the way our legs touched from knee to thigh.
I wasn’t sure if I trusted him. Not fully. But I couldn’t ignore the pull, either. Something about him drew me in…
“It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” I murmured, eyes on the night sky instead of him. The stars seemed to shimmer in the cloudless night, drawing impossibly near. The air between us felt charged—tense in that quiet static, like just before lightning strikes.
At the top, the Ferris wheel groaned to a stop. Our gondola swayed, the motion nudging me closer. I caught my breath, one hand gripping the cold metal frame.
Below us, the fair stretched out in soft pools of gold and neon. The moon reflected before us in billowing curtains, drifting on the tides from the lake. The breeze carried the scent of pine and fried sugar, and faintly, the carnival’s noise—laughter, music, the creak and whirl of rides—rose in softened echoes, barely reaching our ears. But there was something else riding the air too, wild and sharp, like the thrill of being right on the edge of something I couldn’t quite name.
“It’s… quiet,” I murmured , mostly to myself. “Up here. It feels… unreal.”
Xander didn’t say anything, he just watched me. His eyes were dark, swallowed by the night. But there was an intensity in his gaze, a spark that made my skin tingle.
I shifted under the weight of his scrutiny. “Sorry, listen to me ramble about the night.”
“You’re not rambling,” he said, his voice a deep rumble, a vibration that seemed to run through me. He turned, the small space between us, closing. “It’s… honest.”
I blinked, turning away, my blush burning brighter from both his intensity and how close he was. The moon hung like a silver coin over the dark water. “I guess I’ve always liked it. The night. The peace. It’s mysterious.”
“Peace,” he echoed, a touch of bitterness in his tone. He looked up at the stars, scattered like fresh snow against the midnight sky. “I’ve never really found much peace in the night.”
“Oh,” I said, unsure how to respond.
He draped a casual arm around my shoulders, my heart did a nervous flip. “But those,” he said, nodding towards the stars. “They’re different. They burn on their own. They don’t need anything… or anyone. They have their own power.” His voice dropped to a whisper, raw and soft, like he was revealing something he’d kept hidden for a long time. “They’re the one thing about the night I’ve always… admired.”
I glanced at him, searching his face for something I couldn’t name. He wasn’t looking at the stars anymore.
He was looking at me.
And in that instant, it felt like the world tilted around us—like the air had thinned, the night held its breath. It felt like falling—like something inside me had stepped off solid ground and into a void I couldn’t stop, hurtling toward something vast, beautiful, and dangerous.
His gaze held mine, steady and quiet, but there was a question in it—one he wasn’t saying out loud. The space between us shimmered with tension, not the kind that asked for distance, but the kind that pulled, coaxed, promised.
My eyes dropped—unthinking—to his mouth. A soft, slow breath. The weight of his arm, still resting over my shoulders, no longer felt casual. It was anchoring. Warm. Possessive in a way that unsettled me, because I liked it more than I should.
Right then, I felt it—the shift. The line between curiosity and something deeper beginning to blur.
The Ferris wheel jolted back to life, and the moment shattered.
By the time we reached the bottom, Xander had already unlatched the safety bar. He helped me out without a word.
Then my phone rang, sharp and sudden, dragging me fully back to reality. I fumbled for it, answering without thinking.
“Faye!” Jack’s voice, frantic with worry, cut through buzz of the crowd. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Aren’t you at work?” I asked, trying to sound calm.
“I was, but then I had this feeling… like something was wrong. Where are you? What’s going on? Is Mira with you?” He bombarded me with questions, each one sharper than the last.
“Whoa, Jack, slow down. Everything’s fine. Me and Mira got split up, but I’m going to find her now, okay?” I tried to soothe him, keeping my voice steady.
“Faye, listen… I don’t know why, but I’ve had this feeling all day. Like something’s off. Like something might happen tonight.” His voice was low, steady, but edged with unease. “Where are you? I’ll come pick you up.”
“Jack, I’m fine. Really. I’ll find Mira and head home.”
He was quiet for a beat too long. “Alright. Just—text me the second you get there. Promise me?”
“I will, I promise.” I hung up, but the chill that had crept down my spine wouldn’t fade.
Xander’s eyes narrowed. “Boyfriend?”
“What?” I stammered, thrown off balance. “Oh, no. Uh, my friend’s just worried,” I said, my voice a little breathless. “I should probably go.”
Xander watched me, his lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze skeptical as I shoved my phone into my back pocket.
“Can I walk you home?” he offered, his eyes gleamed with an allure that made me want to say yes. Butterflies erupted in my stomach, but I kept my cool.
“Actually, I need to find Mira. Thanks though, I—”
“Faye!” Mira’s voice, straight-up furious, sliced through the fair’s noise. The buzz of the crowd dropped to a sudden hush, all eyes on me, before bursting into conversation again. I whipped around—and there she was, charging at me, curls bouncing like she was about to explode.
“You just ditched me!” she yelled, her face flushed. “You fell off the bull, sent some crap text, and then just left. Seriously?”
This was awkward.
“I’m sorry. I tried to look for you, but–”
“No you didn’t.” Her voice was sharp. “If you did, you would’ve found me right where you left me!” she fumed. “Where did you go?”
I gestured vaguely behind me, about to offer Xander a sheepish glance, but he was gone. Vanished into the night, probably wanting to avoid this awkward confrontation. The butterflies in my stomach plummeted, replaced by a sinking feeling of disappointment. I stared at the ground, fiddling with the white unicorn Xander had won for me. I felt utterly deflated.
“You left me so you could win a stupid stuffed unicorn?” Mira spat.
“Look, Mira, I’m really sorry. There was this guy—”
“Can we just not talk about it right now?” she interrupted, her voice cold. “I just want to go home.”
With that, she turned and stormed away, leaving me feeling a mixture of shame and disappointment.
Back at the suite, Mira stomped into her bedroom and slammed the door. I retreated to my own room, sending a quick text to Jack to let him know I was home safely. He responded immediately, a wave of relief practically radiating from his text.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I turned the stuffed unicorn over and over in my hands. It was the only proof that Xander had actually been real. He had appeared out of nowhere and vanished into the night. It was easy to dismiss him as a figment of my imagination, a product of the whiplash from being flung from that bull. But the little white unicorn held a different story.
I clutched it against my chest as I drifted off to sleep that night. I dreamed of deep brown eyes holding mine, of strong arms catching me before I fell, of the electrifying sensation of his fingertips brushing against my skin. I dreamed of the moonlight illuminating his features, casting him in an ethereal glow against the darkness.
Author HC Harris 