We raced down the mountain on the single-person roller coaster, the track twisting through the trees. Noah had gone first, calling back over his shoulder, “Try to keep up, Faraday!” before disappearing over the ridge.
He’d last-named me, but I didn’t mind at all.
Limitless.
The farther I got down the mountain, the more I let up on the brake.
It was fun, being in control, though I did scream. Just a little.
At the end of the track, I hopped up to find Noah, and he easily agreed when I suggested we do it again.
And if quiet, mysterious Noah was sexy—oh, sweet baby carrots—then this version? Laughing, playful, running a hand through that tousled hair? This version was downright illegal. He looked lighter somehow, like he was letting go of something, too.
After that, we spotted a sign advertising cave tours and made it over just in time to get in on the last walking tour of the Fairy Cave. Stepping into the cool, dimly lit entrance, the summer heat melted away behind us. It was like the two of us were stepping into another world.
The guide—a middle-aged woman in a khaki vest with a flashlight clipped to her belt—welcomed our small group and launched into a brief history of the cavern.
Noah and I lingered at the back, still buzzing from the rollercoaster, still catching our breath from laughing.
“You really let go on that second run,” he murmured, leaning down so I could feel the warmth of his breath against my ear.
A shiver ghosted down my spine.
I turned my head slightly, and yep, he was closer than I expected. Close enough that I had to focus very hard on forming words. “What can I say? I’m a thrill-seeker now.”
His eyes sparkled. “Ready for the swing next?”
“Maybe,” I said, squinting at him. “You offering to hold my hand?”
He grinned. “If that’s what it takes.”
I bumped his arm with my elbow, trying to laugh it off, but everything about him—his voice, his grin, the way he kept leaning in when he spoke—was starting to get to me.
The guide motioned us forward, deeper into the cavern, and I was suddenly very aware of how narrow the passageway had become. Noah’s hand brushed the small of my back—just a light touch, a reflex maybe, guiding me over uneven ground—but it lingered a moment longer than necessary.
Not that I needed guiding. But friends could guide each other. Nothing wrong with that.
The air inside was damp, and the rock walls shimmered in spots where minerals had collected over time, creating an eerie, otherworldly glow beneath the artificial lighting.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “Totally fine.”
Except my pulse was in my throat, and every nerve ending I had was tuned to him.
To the way his shoulder brushed mine, to the casual weight of his hand steadying me when I tripped slightly on a rock.
To the way it all felt exciting. And weirdly natural.
Like we’d done this before.
“So, why is it called the Fairy Cave?” someone asked as we ducked through a passage that opened into a chamber full of delicate stalactites hanging from the ceiling like icicles.
“The original explorers in the late 1800s believed the way the formations sparkled in the lantern light made them look like fairies had dusted the cave in magic.”
I hummed, proving I could actually listen. “I can see that.”
“You believe in fairies, Faraday?” Noah whispered
