Steve reached for Daisy’s hand. “I’m going to do my best to ignore him.”

She felt heat flood through her when he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. They were following a macadam path that was bordered by flowers and led to more rides. It was a sunny weekend, and the park was crowded with kids and their parents and hordes of teenagers, but in the middle of this sea of bustling humanity they were alone, Daisy thought. People smiled but didn’t stare, didn’t recognize. Everyone was self-absorbed, unwavering in their pursuit of fun. That was perfect, she decided. She enjoyed the intimacy of walking hand in hand with Steve.

They had a strange relationship, she decided. Desire had come before love, although love had quickly followed. The depth of the love she wasn’t able to determine. She was smart enough to know that there were lots of kinds, and falling in love was different from truly loving someone. For now she knew she’d fallen in love, and she intended to keep it at that level. In her mind it didn’t seem to be such a serious emotion. It wasn’t her first experience with infatuation, she told herself. She’d been enamored of other men. She supposed she’d had her heart broken a few times, but she’d never died of it. Actually, if she was to be completely honest, she couldn’t really say her heart had ever been broken—cracked perhaps.

She finished her soda and munched on leftover ice. Music spilled from hidden speakers, mingling with the clatter and roar of the roller coasters. “I think I’m going on sensory overload,” she said to Steve.

“Do you hate it?”

“No, I love it! I have to admit I’m not keen on roller coasters, but I love being here. I like the food and the noise and the people. And I love the colors and the speed of the rides. I want to stay late so I can see the lights go on. Can we do that?”

“We can stay here as long as you want—unless the soles start to melt on my shoes. If that happens, I might be inclined to pack it in.”

Daisy lifted the hair off the back of her neck in silent agreement. The day was hot, with the kind of heat found only in an amusement park. Heat that baked off the pavement and prickled on bare arms. Heat that provoked cravings for ice cream and lemonade and the cool shade of the pavilions where more elaborate food was sold. “I should have put my hair up,” she said. “I’d give my kingdom for a scrunchie.”

“I don’t think it’s necessary to hock your kingdom for one,” Steve said. “Twenty dollars should be more than enough.” He waved a twenty in front of a group of teenage girls. “Anyone want to trade this for a scrunchie?”