“I’m gonna be sick,” Cheyenne hissed under her breath.
“Why?” Miracle asked, genuinely baffled. “I mean, it must just be because I’m new, because I can’t imagine anyone being distracted from a date as beautiful as you.”
Hardy’s mouth actually dropped open in shock. How Miracle could be so kind and gracious and complimentary to someone as openly nasty as Cheyenne was beyond him.
Cheyenne frowned. Hardy felt sure she had no idea how to react to Miracle’s benevolence. After several seconds of silent deliberation, she must’ve decided Miracle was up to something. Cheyenne narrowed her eyes on Miracle and then took a smiling Nate by the arm and dragged him away.
Unperturbed, Miracle resumed the obliteration of her feast. Hardy was not as quick to recover. He was staring at her, gape-mouthed, completely awed by her kind nature. After a couple of minutes, Miracle glanced at him.
“What? Do I have something on my face?” she asked, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth and both cheeks.
“No, you don’t have anything on your face,” Hardy assured her gently.
“Then what?”
“I know…I thought…you’re just amazing. That’s all.”
A pale pink stain crept up into Miracle’s cheeks. She cast her eyes down, a bashful grin curving her lips, but she said nothing. Instead, she turned her attention back to her desserts. Hardy watched as she made quick work of the caramel apple, devouring the sweetly coated peel and leaving behind most of the white fleshy apple beneath it.
With a thump, Miracle tossed the rest of the fruit on her pile of trash and then wadded it all up together and went to toss it in the garbage. She came back dusting off her hands. She stopped at the edge of the table, collected her bear and grabbed her cotton candy stick, pushing the plastic-wrap covering down.
“Ferris wheel?” she asked, tearing off a long, wispy strip of pink sugar and stuffing it into her mouth.
Hardy grinned. She grinned.
“Gotta love a woman who can eat like a man and still look like you do.”
Miracle winked and rubbed her still-flat belly. “I’m in training.”
“For what?”
“Before I die, I want to win a hot dog eating contest.”
Hardy knew he should laugh, not because it was utterly ridiculous, but because she was most likely serious. But he couldn’t. Not when she mentioned dying, no matter how casually. If anyone else had made such a statement, he’d have thought nothing of it, but with Miracle, he seemed to be hyper sensitive to the topic of her demise, regardless of how far away it might be.
“I think you’re well on your way to becoming a champion eater,” he quipped, hoping his smile and attempt at levity had adequately concealed his turbulent emotions.
Hardy stood and he and Miracle began making their way slowly through the crowd toward the Ferris wheel. From the corner of his eye, he watched her pinch off tufts of airy sugar between her fingers and then stick them into her mouth, all the while hugging her polar bear and curiously watching the people around her. He wondered what she might be thinking. It seemed that she was always in deep, significant thought, unlike the majority of people he knew. Of course, she had had troubles in her life that most people did not.
“I was so sick during chemo that I swore when I felt like eating again, I’d eat everything I could get my hands on,” she began quietly. Hardy had to lean toward her slightly to make out her words. The ambient noise of the crowded carnival threatened to swallow them up. “One of the first things I ate when I started feeling better was a hot dog. I started with one and it tasted so good, I ended up eating seven.” Hardy watched as she tore off another piece of cotton candy and held it up for inspection before sticking out her tongue and catching the tail to drag it into her mouth. “That’s the day I decided to live every minute of every day like it might be my last.”
Her sentiment hung between them like a dark, depressing fog. Not what she’d said, but what she hadn’t. She was going to live every minute of every day like it might be her last because it might, in fact, very well be. That’s what she meant. Those unspoken words reached in and wound their icy fingers around Hardy’s heart and squeezed.
As if sensing the morose direction his thoughts had taken, Miracle swung her gaze to Hardy and winked playfully. “Race you to the Ferris wheel.”
It took Hardy a moment to switch gears and focus on what she’d said.
“I’m not racing a girl, especially one that just ate half her body weight in fried food.”
“Aww,” Miracle said, distress written all over her beautiful face. “I didn’t realize you were a scaredy cat. I can go extra slow if that’ll make you feel better,” she teased.
“Oh-ho-ho, so it’s gonna be like that, huh?” Hardy said, lunging for Miracle. Quickly, she darted away, just out of his reach. “Not bad,” he admitted. She was very nimble, even when stuffed with carnival food and burdened with a polar bear.
“I do all right for myself,” she giggled. “Race me?” Miracle’s eyes twinkled. Hardy saw her tongue sneak out at the corner of her mouth. He wanted to kiss her so badly he nearly missed her countdown. “Ready, set, go!”
Miracle took off toward the Ferris wheel, dodging children and adults, strollers and stuffed animals with an agility that belied the enormous meal she’d just eaten. Hardy would’ve been happy to just sit back and watch her antics. He found himself purposely lagging behind, smiling and chuckling the whole way to the ride.
She arrived first, of course, with Hardy not far behind. He saw her raise one arm above her head and dance lightly from foot to foot. He heard her say gruffly, “Yo, Adrian! I did it!”
Hardy laughed.
“Does that make me Apollo? Because I could totally live with abs like that.”
Miracle stilled, arching one brow. “You already have abs like that.”
Hardy felt a goofy smile pull at his lips. She’d obviously taken notice of his body at the beach. He’d always been pleased with his physique—muscular legs and arms, trim waist, ripped stomach, firm pecs—but it had never mattered so much that someone else was equally pleased with it. Until Miracle, that is. Her comment made him ridiculously happy for some reason.
He closed the gap between them, not stopping until he was less than a foot from her. She was a bit winded, but still smiling broadly. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkled with life and vitality. His fingers itched to tunnel into her hair. His lips tingled with the desire to be pressed to hers. His body ached to feel the warmth of hers. But he kept his distance, instead bending his head to tear off a bite of her cotton candy.