Let's go to the state fair on Saturday!

Alex's childlike enthusiasm causes a fluttering around my heart like white petals swept up in a wind whirlpool.

Omg how fun! Yes!

He sends me the emoji face covered in kissy hearts.

Every one of our dates this summer is imprinted in my memory with a seal of sweetness, vulnerability and pure fun. In between our schedules, we have been to the movies, spent a day floating the American River on blow-up boats, shared ice cream and spent many an hour joking around on text. Alex loves to make borderline suggestive comments mixed with a constant barrage of humor and random, out-of-context memes or gifs; he makes me laugh more than anyone I've ever spent time with. I'm beyond excited for a full evening of rides, games and food with my boyfriend this weekend. I still cannot believe this word is now in my vernacular.

On Saturday morning, I tag along downtown with both my parents to a volunteer event that Mom organized with the equity committee. It's an outreach program for the Spanish-speaking community promoting free local preschool programs, as well as providing families information about accessing basic health services. I'm stretched to utilize my Spanish for several hours, and I have fun interacting with all the adorable little kids. Halfway through, I find myself wishing we had invited Alex. Something tells me his youthful spirit would be a magnet for children.

I guess Mom has the same idea, because just as I'm daydreaming about kids hanging off Alex's limbs while he employs his dry humor to feign annoyance, she says: "You should have dragged along your cutie patootie."

"My cutie patootie?" I reply, snorting.

"Yes. He's a cutie."

"He is, isn't he?" I giggle as Mom winks at me. Alex dropped by the house recently in between work and school to get to know my parents more, and they liked him quite a bit.

"We're going to the fair this afternoon—I told you, right?"

"Sí, m'hija. Be careful driving home. He doesn't drink while you're out, does he?"

I roll my eyes the tiniest bit at the overprotective mother question.

"No, Mom. I've literally never seen him drink." I wonder if he just doesn't drink around me because I'm underage. As much as I enjoyed the alcohol high I experienced so many times this past school year, I honestly haven't missed drinking in the least. It's a relief to confirm that I haven't developed any type of dependency or addictive tendencies. Maybe Alex doesn't drink because of his father and brother. Alcoholism is genetic, and in this moment, a vibration of anxiety zings through my nervous system.

A few hours later, freshly showered and changed into my favorite shorts and t-shirt, I hop into Alex's Jetta as he very indiscreetly admires my legs.

"You're so tan. Where did you go today?"

I tell him about the community volunteer event, being sure to mention the pet name Mom called him. He laughs, clearly pleased.

"Your parents are the best," he mumbles, almost shyly.

The afternoon sun is still blaring down when we arrive at the fairgrounds, and I immediately retrieve my bottle of coconut-scented sunscreen from the mini-backpack I brought in lieu of a purse. Alex shoots me a look I know so well—he's laughing at me.

"You and your sunscreen." His skin is a shade fairer than mine, but he doesn't ever seem concerned about getting sunburned when we participate in outdoor activities.

"Sunscreen is common sense!" I declare, shoving the bottle into his hand.

Rolling his eyes, he applies some to his nose and cheeks in haphazard fashion, which results in a spattering of white patches all over his face.

"You're hopeless," I tell him, rubbing it in. He grabs my wrists as I finish and pulls me into him for a deep kiss that begins and ends in less than three seconds, causing a rush from head to toe.

"Who needs roller coasters when their boyfriend kisses like that," I murmur into his ear. We have yet to even leave the parking lot.

Alex grins and has me sit back down in the passenger seat so he can rub sunscreen into my legs, a task I'm obviously capable of completing on my own. He notices the goosebumps that spread across my coffee-colored skin in the ninety-five degree heat, and I see him running his front teeth over his bottom lip as his hands move higher and higher up. The intoxicating coconut aroma invades our senses in the heavy July atmosphere, and Alex slows his pace, massaging until every drop of the white substance disappears into my pores. We are both quite affected by the time he finishes.

"Shit." He brushes his lotion coated palm through his hair, blowing out a stream of air from his puffed up cheeks. "Got carried away. We might not make it to the carnival at this rate."

I giggle.

He clears his throat and takes his time gathering up his stuff from the car. Once inside the fair, we head straight for the rides. As the first roller coaster creeps up the steepest loop, Alex leans in to whisper something in my ear.

"Let's see how this drop compares to one of our kisses."

I scream, unreserved, as we barrel downwards, whip around the loop and hang upside down, defying gravity. Reality evaporates, replaced by nothing but a physical rush. As I continue to shriek, I can't tell if I'm terrified or thrilled.

As I wobble away from the ride on trembling legs, still wiping tears of excited terror, it's as if my body is floating through the park. Alex's face is lit up, and he looks so happy.

"There's nothing like the thrill of a roller coaster." He laughs, head slightly tilted back—open to the heavens—his expression bright and utterly carefree. We bounce along the walkway, past the kiddie airplane ride and Tilt-A-Whirl, Alex grasping my hand and tugging me forward as if we are heading somewhere specific. As we turn left around the cow barn and find ourselves in relative seclusion, Alex unexpectedly backs me up towards the wooden, red-painted walls, pressing his lips feverishly to mine. I'm ready to dive into the bottomless pit of our kiss, but he breaks away as abruptly as he latched on, the suction of desire ripped away from my lips almost painful.

"Except for that," he breathes, lingering with his face close to mine, caressing my lips with longing eyes as if he's fighting the urge to dive back in. Alex glances around us, taking note of families strolling by, kids licking sticky blue cotton candy; he releases my waist and steps away, taking my hand again and leading me onward.

We each pay for exactly one carnival game, because the prices are outrageous, and both of us are aware that neither has much disposable cash to waste. As I squirt water with laser focus into a tiny hole, watching my duck take the lead ahead of the other participants, my brain does this stupid thing I've done all my life where it impulsively connects a momentous life outcome to a random and meaningless moment of physical luck. I envision winning the giant, overstuffed Pikachu dangling a few feet away and believe it to represent my entire future with Alex.

Another duck pulls ahead at the last second, and I lose. As a little boy leaps and shrieks with joy, I beam at him and shake my head at my silly fortune telling impulses.

I spin around to find Alex and bump into the fat, fluffy belly of a massive teddy bear.

"I threw a ring in the bottles! Can you believe it?" Alex is practically yelling, beside himself with excitement. "I've never won anything before!"

He pushes the bear into my arms with such an expression of pride, kissing me on the forehead.

The little kid from the water shooters, who can barely carry the yellow plushy blob that is as large as he is, hops up and down in front of Alex.

"Me neither!" he screeches, his tiny voice cracking. "I never won anything either in my whole long life!"

Alex fist bumps him. "Genius!"

"Are you giving her your bear?" the child asks Alex in his bold, uninhibited voice, pointed to me with incredulity. It probably makes no sense to him why someone would win such a cool prize and then give it away.

"Yep." Alex now has his more serious, coaching face on—the one he uses to create a bit of distance from other people's eagerness.

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"Yes, random little kid, she is!"

I snort.

"Are you in love with her?"

The heat isn't helping, and I feel a flush swelling through my face. Alex wraps his arm around my shoulder and draws me into him as the boy's parents offer us a sheepish expression.

"Buddy, that's getting a bit personal," his dad says. "Sorry, man," he tells Alex.

Alex shrugs, unconcerned, continuing to pin me to him with his hand pressed tightly against my shoulder. "Hey, they are all fair questions. And we are here at the fair." 

I burst into laughter at his dad joke, while Alex releases one of those fluttery chuckles I love so much, revealing his absolute lack of self-consciousness. 

We make our way to the food stands with our unnecessarily large stuffy, and I wonder if whatever this is between Alex and me is considered love. It sure feels like it, but the logical part of my brain tells me not enough time has passed for the sentiment to be valid. Besides, he didn't answer the boy's question aloud.

I purchase corndogs, and Alex later buys ice cream for us. We watch the magic show, ride as many roller coasters as possible and take the Ferris Wheel. At the top, Alex kisses me senseless, obliterating the entire city below us.

But my favorite part of the night is visiting the barnyard animals, where Alex engages in a full conversation with a porcine. He stands there snorting back and forth with the most massive of the pigs, a black one with a peach stripe across its back, his expression dead serious as if the two are old pals discussing a critical matter. They carry on for quite a while, a family beside us watching with intrigue, and I'm wiping away tears by the time he's through.

"That was so strange," I say, giggling, as we leave the barn.

Not breaking character, Alex shrugs. "He had a lot to fill me in on."

We stay late to watch the fireworks. It's not cold, but Alex wraps himself around me from behind as if protecting me from the dark, and he nuzzles my cheek and neck as the fountains of colors explode into the sky and rain down. I can sense Alex becoming restless as he touches me more—tapping his fingers over my arms, running his hands along my waist, hugging me tighter.

"Do you want to leave now to beat the traffic?" he whispers in my ear, causing shivers to jolt through my body. "Or do you want to see the end of the show?"

I want you to kiss me.

"We can go now."

Lacing his fingers in mine, he weaves me through the crowd of people and towards the fair exit. Neither of us say anything until we reach his car. He reaches for the handle of the passenger door but changes course half-way through the motion, instead pushing me gently against the car and kissing me with a light hesitancy. I attempt to press my lips harder to his, but he pulls away, leaving me breathing thick summer air that fails to fill my lungs with oxygen.

A flicker like rejection burns in my chest for a split second, until my brain rematerializes and notices the group of small children climbing into the mini-van parked next to us. Alex has much more tact and self-control than I do.

"Damn kids," he mutters in mock irritation as we settle into his car.

On the drive home, we reminisce about our evening, and I make fun of Alex for being a secret pig whisperer. Coldplay's "Magic" floats in the background, and I fall quiet as the lyrics capture my attention, my mind vaporizing into reflection. Against my own better judgement, I'm dissolving into this summer spell with Alex, unreasonable daydreams for the future brewing as sweet poison in my imagination.

Am I about to get broken in two?

Will I still believe in magic?

Chris Martin's voice is lighter than air and full of conviction.

Yes, I will.

Of course I will.

A sound I've heard before snaps my reverie.

"Pst."

The singular syllable rushes my stomach with roller coaster adrenaline. I don't know if the sensation is the creeping climb of anticipation, or a reckless wide-open hurtling into destiny.

I glance at Alex and blink, shy and daring, nervous and bold.

"Yeah?" I whisper back.

"Guess what?" He's grinning with a very familiar expression, except it's way naughtier than normal. But he somehow appears anxious at the same time.

"What, Alex?"

"My mom is visiting my Tía Alicia in Stockton this weekend."

There's a long pause, since I don't know how to respond to that statement for various reasons. His grin is faltering, and he drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Do you want to spend the night with me? We don't have to have sex, if you're not ready."

I love him for saying that directly. But it still does nothing to calm the explosion of nerves bursting hotter than fireworks inside my chest.

"Um, are you going to answer?"

"Oh! Sorry. Um, spend the night? I don't have any clothes or anything. What will I tell my mom?" Oh my God, did I say all that out loud?

Alex bursts out laughing. "God, you're cute."

I grab my forehead in embarrassed agony.

"You can borrow one of my t-shirts to sleep in, and we have extra toothbrushes. Wait, is that what you're most worried about—telling your mom?"

No, I'm most worried about not knowing how far I'm ready to go.

"You won't pressure me?"

His expression changes, the amusement rippling right out of it. "No, I would never."

"Okay, then yes."