Chapter 67 (1/2)
Dan felt like he was drifting through a dream. His mind floated on a river of rainbows, of bouncy clouds and soap bubbles. The world seemed brighter, the colors sharper, his body lighter. All around him, came the sounds of laughter. Children and adults drifted by in an aimless stream around him, oblivious to the state of pure nirvana he was currently experiencing.
Infatuation was a hell of a drug.
Abby followed behind him, hand locked around his, giggling like a schoolgirl. It hadn't quite hit either of them, before today, that a date was in the works. It wasn't until Dan had stood outside Abby's door, bouquet of roses in hand, that he had actually processed the impending event. Abby had it worse, if anything. She had blanked out for several moments upon opening her door, before feebly accepting Dan's gift. It made it real, somehow, those roses. It crystallized those months of desires and hopes and wishes. It was a bit of an emotional train wreck for the both of them.
The result was a pair of adults acting like love-struck morons, drunkenly stumbling from carnival stall to carnival stall, basking in the simple proximity of each other's presence. It was the sort of intimacy one could only achieve when best friend suddenly became something more. A sort of all-suffusing feeling of 'why did this take so long?' and 'we must have been idiots.'
In layman's terms, Dan would describe it as a sort of full body tingling sensation mixed with a mild concussion.
Of course, all things come to an end, often in the most unexpected of ways. This particular end came with a question.
”So... should we be talking about stuff?”
Abby's nervous query washed away the pleasant haze within Dan's mind. He blinked at the sudden clarity, shaking his head like a dog, before turning to her. The young woman bit her lip uncertainly, the sight temporarily robbing Dan of his senses.
”Stuff?” he repeated dumbly.
”I don't know!” Abby cried, suddenly anxious. Every self-conscious uncertainty she'd ever had rushed into her all at once. ”Stuff! First date stuff!” She tugged at a lock of hair, running it through her fingers. The other hand never let go of Dan's, clutching it like a lifeline. ”You're supposed to know this stuff, not me!”
Dan used her iron grip to slowly draw her into a hug. He ignored the looks that their PDA evoked from passerby, electing to rub gentle circles into Abby's back. The emotional girl slowly sank into him, calming as quickly as she had flustered.
”Well,” Dan said, his voice perfectly calm, ”if this were a blind date, or if we were just barely acquainted, we'd be trying to get to know each other.” He paused checking for a reaction. She remained in his embrace, perfectly content to let him speak. ”That's obviously not gonna work with us. We already know each other.”
”Okay, okay,” Abby nodded into his shoulder. She pulled away slightly, looking at him with concern in her eyes. ”So what are we supposed to do? I don't wanna mess this up.”
Dan smiled goofily at the confession. Everything was right with the world.
”I don't think you can,” he admitted frankly, enjoying the red glow that crawled across her pale skin. ”There aren't any rules for this sort of thing.”
”I know that!” Abby exclaimed nervously, leaning into him a little harder. ”I just— I don't want you to think less of me if I don't know all the, the protocols!”
Don't laugh Dan. Laughter is not the appropriate response to this situation. It wasn't all that difficult to fix his face into a gentle smile, not with a beautiful woman attached to him like a limpet. He put a finger under her chin, angling her eyes to meet his.
He opened his mouth, but paused, running his next words through his head. The phrase, ”I couldn't possibly think less of you,” probably wouldn't sound quite as romantic out loud as it did in his head. Dan bit it back, settling for something more direct.
”I'm having a great time.” He blinked, his own uncertainty welling up slightly. ”Aren't you?”
Abby nodded immediately.
”Well, good.” Dan's grin returned. He slipped his hand free of Abby's, and wrapped it around her waist, tugging her close. ”Let's go have some fun!”
His reassurance, weak as it was, seemed to do the trick. It didn't take Abby long to return to her normal, bubbly self. The carnival was an entirely new experience for her, and one that she was adapting to admirably.
”The dog, the dog!” Abby cried, bouncing in place. Her finger pointed wildly at the booth's top prize, a massive, fluffy, stuffed Samoyed. A toy, not a taxidermy mount.
The game was darts, or a bastardized form thereof, in which Dan was forced to pop tiny balloons with a dull piece of thrown metal. Abby danced back and forth behind him, her tinkling laughter softening each failure. She seemed perfectly at ease with his inferior hand-eye coordination; Dan was fairly sure that she could've popped every bubble with ease if she put her mind to it. He had no basis for this suspicion, but he knew it nonetheless.
It only fueled his determination. The lady wanted a giant stuffed puppy, won by the hand of her suitor, and, by gum, she would get one, even if it took him all night!
Abby was no longer holding his hand. That kinda sucked, but the image of her happily cuddling a giant stuffed dog more than made up for the loss. She skipped along at his side, both arms wrapped around her prize, humming a cheerful tune.
”I used to have a dog, y'know? When I was a kid,” she remarked, bumping against Dan's shoulder. He glanced over to her, and she gave him a warm smile.
”Oh?” Dan asked slowly. ”What kind?” Abby rarely spoke about her younger years. There was always a melancholic edge to what little she had told him.
”Bandit was a border collie, the smartest I've ever known,” she replied, her voice nostalgic. She squeezed her plush tighter to herself as she spoke. ”Mama Ana got him for me when I was... seven? To keep me company. He was my best friend.”
Dan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer. Abby acquiesced easily, leaning into him with most of her weight, and resting her head in the crook of his neck. They wandered slowly, aimlessly through the carnival, no real goal in mind.
”Tell me about him,” Dan suggested, giving Abby a comforting squeeze.
She nodded, a small smile brushing across her lips. ”He was mostly white, with some brown running along his face and back. I used to think he was huge, too, but I'm pretty sure I was just a really short kid.”
Dan snorted at that tidbit. Abby was less than an inch shorter than him, and well above the average height for a woman. Her toddling around as a tiny young girl was nearly inconceivable.
”What?” Abby asked, shifting her head to mock glare at him. ”I was!”
”I always pictured you as Athena,” Dan admitted with a chuckle. ”Springing forth fully formed from your grandmother's forehead, built like an Amazon and ready to kick ass right at birth.”
”Flattering, but no,” Abby corrected him, giving his ribs a brief tickle. ”I was tiny once, and Bandit was enormous.” She paused, lost in reminiscence. ”Mama Ana had him upgraded, I remember. It was one of the few pet upgrades on the market back then, and I'm pretty sure it was a prototype at that.”
Curious, but not unexpected. Grandma Summers didn't seem to be the kind of person who would skimp on spoiling her granddaughter. Though, knowing what he did about her, he wouldn't be surprised if the upgrade gave the dog laser eyes, or fire breath, or some other insane protective measure.
”A prototype of what?” he couldn't help but sate his curiosity.
”I never asked,” Abby answered with a shrug. ”I was seven. Mama Ana just told me that Bandit needed to see a special doctor, and he came back a little different.” She hummed consideringly to herself. ”I'm, like, 90% sure she gave him an early iteration of the Jabberjaw, which our company released later that year.”
Noticing Dan's raised eyebrow, she quickly elaborated. ”It's a communication upgrade. It makes your pet better able to understand body language and, uh, tone of voice.”