FenceStriking Distance - Sarah Rees Brennan Page 0,59

scary. At the same time, he didn’t want to let go.

Dating had gone wrong for him, but maybe fake dating could go right. He could trust Aiden. He could believe this plan would work out.

Maybe it was because of Aiden’s fair outings that fair-going had always seemed to Harvard like mostly a date activity. He’d always stayed home and practiced in the salle instead or hung out with Coach and made plans for the team’s improvement.

The fair was held on the outskirts of the town, so on one side were the fieldstone walls encircling Kingstone, and on the other the encroaching woods. In the trees, lanterns hung from the boughs, and twinkly lights peeped from behind the golden leaves, creating luminous pools and sweet little gleams of light in the dark. Even the evening sky still had a broad sweep of gold painted over the dark line of the trees, and the fair made one of the brightest nights Harvard had ever seen.

They walked through a line of vendors. At a maple stall, Aiden and Harvard bought fudge. The woman there was obviously charmed by Aiden and gave them many free syrup samples until Harvard’s brain felt like it was buzzing mildly inside his skull. At another, they had cider and cider donuts, which didn’t help with the skull-buzzing. And at another, they bought freshly made lavender lemonade.

Harvard downed his wild-blueberry pie with a cup of lemonade and thought the fair was really fun so far. He’d been missing out.

They strolled around hand in hand, and it was strange how not strange that was, the easy physicality that had always been between them translating effortlessly. It wasn’t slightly awkward like with Neil. Harvard supposed that was because they knew each other so well and it wasn’t real, so there was no pressure.

To celebrate Kings Row’s latest victory, there was a butter sculpture of a man fencing. The butter sword was melting slightly, but Harvard still pointed it out with pride.

“You should come to our next match,” he urged Aiden.

“Don’t nag, honey,” Aiden teased, then said: “Fine, I will. Happy?”

“Yeah,” said Harvard. “Very.”

A guy working at the fair whistled at Aiden, but then shrugged and said, “Can’t blame a guy for trying!” when Harvard raised an eyebrow at him. Aiden truly didn’t seem bothered by it, only shaking back his hair, mouth curving.

One of the best things about this arrangement was that now Harvard got to stop guys from admiring Aiden and whisking him away. He was allowed to. For a little while.

They paused by the ring-toss.

“Hey,” said Harvard. “Didn’t you say you wanted to win a friend for Harvard Paw?”

Aiden hesitated. “I might have.”

“Let’s try it out,” Harvard suggested. “My aunt told me these games are set up so you think you should be throwing a couple inches to the right of where you should really throw. It’s an optical illusion our own eyes create for themselves.”

The guy working the ring-toss didn’t look impressed by this information, but Aiden did a little. In any case, he was smiling at Harvard, and that seemed encouraging.

Harvard threw a green ring, and what his aunt said must have been true, because he won.

He turned around and gave the stuffed giraffe he’d won to a passing child with pigtails. She stared up at Harvard uncertainly. Her mother regarded him with a doubtful gaze. Harvard gave the mother a reassuring smile.

Being reassuring didn’t always work—ever since Harvard was eight years old, certain people hadn’t found him reassuring, as he was both Black and tall—but in this case it did. The mother might also have noticed her child was now clinging to her giraffe, and it was clear she would scream if parted from her new toy.

“Thank you,” the little girl’s mother said stiffly.

Harvard said, “No problem.”

The mother swept on, the kid waving shyly as they went. Harvard gave her a little wave back. She gave him a big gap-toothed smile and his own grin was pure reflex.

“What?” Harvard asked Aiden, who was watching him with an expression Harvard couldn’t read.

Aiden gave a little smile, not meant to charm and thus entirely charming, and shrugged the matter off. “I’m horribly offended and insulted you gave away the first stuffed animal you won on our date. You shouldn’t… do anything like that with Neil. You should make it up to me. Win me a bear.”

Harvard concentrated, since this time it was important, carefully measuring the difference between actual depth and the perception of depth. Harvard threw, and