I gripped the lap bar.
"They're loading people at the bottom. It's normal." Sebastian's hand settled over mine on the bar. "Breathe."
The seat swayed in the breeze.
Below us, the world kept moving—people shrinking to specks, problems to nothing.
Up here, it was just us.
The sky.
And the first stars breaking through the dusk.
"Okay," I admitted quietly. "This isn't terrible."
"High praise."
"Don't push it."
He laughed. Above us Emma was pointing at something in the distance, short legs kicking.
The wheel lurched back into motion, and I squeaked—actually squeaked—grabbing Sebastian's arm on instinct.
"Sorry," I muttered, loosening my grip.
"Don't be." His hand covered mine, holding it in place. "I told you. No judgment."
I swallowed but didn't pull away.
His biceps were impressively firm and warm beneath his shirt.
My heart did something reckless.
Something that had nothing to do with the height.
The wheel began its descent. The ground rising to meet us.
Emma and Damien waited at the exit, Emma practically vibrating.
"Okay, food now," she declared. "I'm overruling Sebastian's plan. I need a cider donut or I'm going to kill someone."
"So dramatic," Damien tsked.
"Accurate," she corrected, peering up at him—five feet of fury beside his towering frame. "And I'll start with you."
Damien recoiled in mock horror, hands lifting in surrender.
"Fine," Sebastian said. "But we're doing the ring toss after. I made a promise." He glanced at me. "A sacred promise."
"It wasn't sacred."
"It was to me," he said, bowing at the waist.
We followed the smell of fried dough toward the food stalls, the crowd thickening around us. Sebastian's hand found the small of my back—steering me through the crowd.
My skin burned where he touched it.
This isn't a date.
