The county fair was alive with lights and laughter, the air thick with the scent of cotton candy and fried dough. Lily leaned against the railing of the Ferris wheel line, her sundress fluttering in the late August breeze. She’d come alone, just to soak in the last gasps of summer before the chill of fall took over. She wasn’t looking for anything—or anyone.
Across the midway, Carter strummed his guitar near the bandstand, his voice rough and warm as he sang covers of old country songs. He was a drifter, picking up gigs wherever the road took him, never staying long enough to call anywhere home. But when he spotted Lily swaying to his music, her eyes bright with a quiet joy, his fingers faltered on the strings.ntmedia
After his set, he found her at the lemonade stand, her laughter ringing out as she fumbled with a too-big cup. “You like the music?” he asked, leaning casually against the counter. She grinned, brushing sugar from her hands. “Enough to stick around for it.” That was all it took—two strangers, a shared smile, and a spark neither saw coming.
They spent the night wandering the fair: riding the carousel until they were dizzy, sharing a funnel cake under the twinkling lights, betting on who could toss a ring onto a bottle first (she won, and he let her keep the stuffed bear). He told her about the towns he’d seen, the songs he’d written on napkins in roadside diners. She opened up about her little apartment above the flower shop, how she dreamed of planting a garden someday. By the time the fireworks burst overhead, their hands were tangled together like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Summer faded, but they didn’t. He stuck around longer than he’d planned, playing gigs at local bars while she brought him coffee and wildflowers. They’d sit on her tiny balcony, watching the stars, her head on his shoulder as he hummed melodies just for her. One crisp evening, as the leaves turned gold, he pulled her close and whispered, “I’ve never had a reason to stay anywhere—until you.”
It wasn’t always easy. His restlessness clashed with her roots sometimes, and she worried he’d leave when the wind changed. But every time he picked up his guitar and sang her a song—their song—they remembered why they’d started. The fair was just a memory now, but that last summer night had lit a fire that refused to burn out.
