He nodded. “Yes! And they sell fried Twinkies, too.” Grant gave Madison yet another high-five.
“Fried Twinkies! What the what? Let’s do this!”
Over the next thirty minutes, we strolled down the food truck line and shared deep-fried Twinkies, pickles, and some sucky sushi. (Here’s a tip: never buy sushi out of the back of a van.) We tossed it in the trash, prayed we didn’t get e coli or some shit, and ate some good old American hot dogs instead.
As I found myself shelling out five bucks for a bag of bright blue cotton candy, just what we needed when coming down from this sugar high which was already going to be a doozie.
“Let’s get to that zipper ride.” Madison shoved a handful of the fluffy blue treat into her mouth. A second later, her smile was blue; lips, teeth, everything.
“You’re blue!” Grant pointed before shoving some in and smiling a second later. “Am I blue like Madison?”
I tried to fight the “I’m crazy about you, Madison” grin as her gaze found mine. “Yeah, you guys are twins.”
Madison flashed a huge, cheesy smile, showing off her glowing mouth. “We’re twinning! Jax, eat some; we can be triplets!”
I laughed as we headed towards the ride. “No, thank you to that.”
She rolled her eyes. “You think you’re too good for us? You’re acting like a priss.”
Grant chuckled.
“Madison, you take that back.”
“Nope. Every party has a pooper, and it’s you.” She pressed those lips together as she shook her head. If Grant hadn’t been around, I would’ve swatted that ass, but restraint was in order.
“Are you guys like boyfriend and girlfriend?” Grant threw more blue fluff into his mouth.
I gulped air while Madison shoved her hand in her baggy pockets. Silence. I couldn’t make a single word leave my mouth. Nada, zip, not happening.
Her eyes were darting around while her hand dug deeper into that pocket. Suddenly, I wanted to put my hands in those pockets and feel my way—okay, focus on getting through this eternity of silence. Grant’s stare was burning my corneas.
Madison cleared her throat. “Well, Jax is a boy, and he’s my friend.”
We both stared at Grant, hoping the pathetic, half-assed answer would suffice.
He narrowed his eyes. “Well, do you swap spit?”
Okay, not quite as easy as I hoped this shit show of a question would be.
She bent down to his level. “Grant, I don’t live here. I came to visit for Jim and Daisy’s wedding on Saturday. I actually live in New York and have to go back there Sunday.”
His wheels were spinning. “I hate Sunday and New York.”
Amen. I feel ya, kid.
“You should stay here. New York isn’t cool like Montana. Why would you want to go there?”
“It’s where I’ve lived most of my life and where my sister is. There are tall buildings, and I take taxis or walk wherever I want to go.”
A gasp shot out of Grant. “You don’t have a car?”
She laughed. “Nope, I don’t have one.”
His head shook hard. “There you go, come to Montana. Everybody gets a car here. Then you could eat food with me all the time.” He pointed to me. “Jax can tell you I make really good toast.”
Whatever it took. “The boy is right. You haven’t lived until you’ve experienced his culinary skills.”
She tilted her head and looked back at Grant. “Why don’t we just go and have as much fun as we can today, okay?”
