I huff out a laugh, but it catches in my throat. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
“Only about the important things.”
We’re too close now. The crowd feels distant, muffled by the buzz of the generators and the thrum of my own pulse in my ears. I can feel the warmth of his skin through the thin air between us.
Flyn’s gaze drops to my mouth. Just for a second.
My breath stutters.
I think… maybe this is it. Maybe he’s going to lean in. Maybe I’ll let him.
But I hesitate. And that’s all it takes.
A kid shrieks in the distance. A car horn blares. The moment cracks.
Flyn clears his throat and leans back a little, fingers raking through his blond curls. “So. Ferris wheel?”
I nod. Smile like I’m not trembling inside. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Chapter ten
Flyn
The Ferris wheel looms like a neon halo above the fairground, spinning slow and lazy against a velvet-purple sky. Lights blink along the spokes in cheerful bursts of color, and from where we’re standing, I can just hear the creak of the seats swaying in the warm night breeze. It looks a little rickety. A little sketchy. Perfect.
“You sure about this?” Jade asks beside me, voice low but even. Calm on the surface. But I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way he keeps smoothing the hem of his shirt like he’s trying not to bolt.
“Absolutely,” I say. “What, afraid of heights?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Afraid of being trapped on a glorified tin bench with you for twenty minutes, maybe.”
“Ouch. Wounded,” I grin, because I can tell he isn’t being serious. He’s just nervous.
But he steps forward with me anyway, joining the short line. There’s a couple ahead of us making out like it’s a competition, and Jade very studiously looks anywhere but at them. I stuff my hands in my pockets and try to act like my heart isn’t doing that ridiculous rabbit thing.
Because it’s happening. A real moment. The kind you wait for without realizing you’ve been waiting.
The ride operator waves us on. We climb into the seat, and it rocks under our weight. Jade sits stiffly, arms crossed, kneespointed forward like he’s bracing for impact. I resist the urge to nudge his shoulder. Barely.
Maybe I should have wedged Reginald the frog between us instead of squishing him on the other side, between me and the edge of the seat. He could have acted as chaperone. On second thoughts, I’m really glad that Reginald is out of the way.
The wheel jerks into motion.
The Ferris wheel creaks softly as we climb. The sounds of the fair grow muffled beneath us, laughter and music and the clang of game bells all turning into a kind of background static. I sneak a glance at Jade, who’s doing his best not to look nervous, one hand gripping the metal bar in front of us a little too tightly.
“You doing okay?” I ask.
“I don’t love heights,” he mutters.
“Good thing you’ve got me, then.”
He shoots me a look, but it’s got less bite than usual. “You’re not actually going to be helpful in an emergency, are you?”
“Absolutely not. I’ll panic immediately and then offer you a snack.”
That earns a snort. Victory.
We rise slowly, the fairground dropping away beneath us in a patchwork of lights and noise. The air is cooler up here, the breeze tugging at my hair, brushing soft against the back of my neck. Beside me, Jade lets out a breath and finally, finally, relaxes a little.
