Mesmerized

Emma

“Mom, you’re going to be super busy,” I insist.

She shakes her head. “You’re young, Emma. You need to go have fun with the other young people,” she says.

“I will,” I tell her. “Plenty of those young people hang out here, even during the festival.” 

Mom is being stubborn. I really don’t want her to try to work the shop by herself tomorrow, on Emerald Valley Community Day. That’s the official name for it, but everyone in town just calls it the festival since that’s basically what it is, and we don’t have many other festivals here. 

Even though most of the town will be at the community fairgrounds, the event gets people out and about, so the smoothie shop is always packed most of the day. 

“Brianna will be helping me,” she insists. “I won’t be alone.”

“I’m sure she wants to take Elly to the festival for the kiddie rides.” Brianna’s daughter, Elly, loves everything about the festival, and I don’t want her to miss out. “Besides, she can’t work all day. Even if she takes a shift, I’m going to have to relieve her at some point. You can’t work alone,” I add.

She knows this. Why is she fighting me on it? 

“Someday we’ll hire more help,” she says, dejected. “I don’t want you to miss out on life because you’re working.”

“Mom, everyone my age has to work,” I tell her. “I’m not in high school anymore.”

“Don’t remind me,” she says, her lips turning down into a frown. “It makes me feel old.”

I laugh and shake my head, and she walks away. I know the argument is over.

I’m going to help her tomorrow. 

***

I end up taking the morning shift. I have to admit, it’s hard to get any work done today. It’s such a bright and sunny Saturday, the perfect temperature to be outside without sweating. It’s tough to be stuck inside on a day like this, but Mom needs my help, whether or not she’s going to admit it.

Eventually, Brianna walks in for her afternoon shift. 

“Where’s Elly?” I ask her. 

“I didn’t have the heart to tear her away from the merry-go-round, so I asked Liz to watch her. Her daughter is there, too, and they’re good friends.

“I’m glad she’s having fun.” I turn to Mom. “You good? I can stay if we get a big rush.”

“Nope,” she insists. “You’re done working today. I let you help me, so go have fun now.”

I have to smile. We both know she needed me. After finishing a few things, I race home for a quick shower. And after throwing on a sundress and a little makeup, Kara shows up right on cue.

“You look hot, my friend!” she greets me, practically singing. 

I laugh. “You’re not looking so bad yourself,” I tell her. It’s the truth. She looks amazing in her watermelon colored sundress. 

“Not bad?” she says, twisting around and giving me a crooked smile.

“Okay, you’re hot too,” I agree, and her face brightens a little. I just shake my head and laugh again. She’s crazy, but I love her to death. 

“What? I just needed a little confidence boost,” she claims.

“Confidence is not something you lack, my dear,” I tell her. “Anyway, let’s go. I’ve been stuck inside all day.”

As much as I crave the outdoors, Kara loves being in crowds, so she’s just as excited to leave as I am. Emerald Valley is so small that nothing is very far away, so we walk to the fairgrounds. I just love to be outside, but I think Kara is actually hoping to find a cute guy to give her a lift home afterward.

That would be amazing. 

Cheers, screams, and music permeate the air and get louder as we approach the fairgrounds. Normally a quiet town, people are ready to let their hair down on festival days, and this year is no exception. Cotton candy is the first scent I catch, followed by hot buttered popcorn and roasted peanuts. 

“Where are you going?” Kara asks.

“Food,” I say simply. 

“You just came from your mom’s restaurant,” she reminds me. 

“That’s different,” I insist. “I’m around that all day. This, my friend, is festival food, and I need it.”

I step up to wait in line while she giggles lightly, but then I feel a sharp jab to my rib.

“Ouch!”

I spin around ready to yell at Kara for poking me, and I’m suddenly face to face with him–the gorgeous blond. My heart lets out a big thump, and I feel like I need to swallow but can’t. I find myself staring wide-eyed at the firm arm muscles pushing out of his tight white shirt; I linger way too long and as time passes, the awkward silence thickens the air around us. The longer it lasts, the more I feel the burning sensation rise up my cheeks.  

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, and I swear I see a little bit of red creeping up his cheeks as well. 

“No problem,” is all I managed to reply, and I bite my lip. 

“No, that was my fault. Let me buy your snack,” he insists, using probably the most syllables I’ve ever heard the man speak. “What were you having?”

“Having?” Why, I’ll have the sandy blond with gorgeous green eyes…. “Oh, um… popcorn. Buttered.” 

So smooth, Emma. I might as well be back in high school running for class president. 

And losing.

He smiles… just when I thought he couldn’t look any better, his face lights up, and he turns and orders a large popcorn. For a split second, I’m not sure whether I should be offended that he thinks I can eat all that. But maybe he just wants to share. Oh! Maybe….

“Drink?” he asks.

“Oh, um, yeah. I’ll have a cola.” Oh, good lord, now I’d sound like a seventh-grader. I’m rapidly devolving under his gaze.

He thankfully restrains a laugh and orders me a Coke, then reaches those golden muscular arms practically over my head to retrieve the food from the concession stand. 

“My apologies for running into you,” he says, handing me the snacks. 

I’m not really sure how I manage to move my hands, but I take the snacks from him and stand there while an embarrassing pregnant pause shuts down all sound around us. It’s like we’re in a vacuum for a moment, as if there aren’t hundreds of people just steps away. 

Our eyes meet for that moment, and my embarrassment is swept away, at least temporarily. It’s as if I recognize something in his bright green eyes, like a beacon calling me home. 

“I’d better get back to my friends,” he says finally, breaking the magic.

“Oh,” I say, still stammering and looking, I’m sure, like a deer in headlights. “Um, thank you.”

“No, thank you,” he says, emphasizing the last word and giving me a half-smile before turning around and disappearing into the crowd. 

Here I stand, with a giant tub of buttered popcorn in one hand and an oversized drink in the other, completely blindsided by whatever it was that just happened.