I was torn between throwing myself into his arms and jumping on the next flight home. Either way this was going to hurt. A brisk sea breeze swept down the boardwalk and a strand of my hair tugged loose from my messy bun. Elliot leaned across, tucked it behind my ear. The sensation of his rough skin gentle against my cheek sent a shiver down my spine.
“You okay in there?” he asked softly.
I nodded, then shook my head. “I don’t know what I am.”
“You know what might help?” He pointed behind me at the Cyclone rollercoaster, vintage but no less fearsome. A carriage of shrieking passengers roared past, so loud it hurt my ears.
“You cannot be serious,” I said.
“A little adrenaline is good for what ails you.”
“I’m sorry, do you want to see my candyfloss again?” I balked, shaking my head.
“I get it, you’re scared.” He stretched lazily. “It’s not for the weak.”
“I’m not scared.” I faked a casual shrug, even as my sugar-filled stomach churned with anxiety.
“Okay, then let’s go!” He lunged as if to head to the Cyclone.
I laughed. “Can we start small?”
“You wanna ride the horseys?” he said, gently mocking as he pointed further down the boardwalk at a traditional-looking carousel pumping out old-timey tinkling music.
“Yes, I wanna ride the fucking horseys,” I said.
We joined the carousel queue, where Elliot stood so closely behind me the edges of his shirt brushed my bare arms. We waited in silence for the ride, but I couldn’t have spoken even if I’d had anything to say. My whole body was thrumming with an unfamiliar but thrilling energy, my stomach on permanent loop-the-loops. It was like I wanted to be sick, but in a happy way. Would spending time with Elliot always be like this?
The ride stopped and we shuffled forward, Elliot tapping payment as we passed through the ticket barrier. I made a beeline for an elaborately carved horse with its front two legs in the air, while he started to climb on the horse next to it, an endeavor that soon proved tricky given his size. I couldn’t control my laughter as he tried to wedge his large frame on the comparatively tiny horse.
“You’re being extremely rude,” he huffed. “This thing is miniature.”
“It’s meant forchildren,” I wheezed as he attempted to fold himself in two with the horse’s mane digging into his chest.
“Hey, dude.” The carousel operator appeared, looking incredibly bored. “You’re too big.”
“You’re booting me off?” Elliot yelped. “But I paid already.”
“You can stand next to her if you hold the pole,” the bored man said, thumbing at me. I looked around the carousel to see that some of the kids had boarded the ride with parents and those parents had opted to stand next to their children in the way the operator was suggesting.
“Fine.” Elliot grimaced as he began to extricate himself from his position. “I’ll look ridiculous either way.”
“You look very dignified.” I pulled out my phone.
“Donotdocument this,” Elliot ordered.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said blithely, just as I caught a stunning shot of him crumpled over the side of the spindly little horse.
“You’re a monster,” he declared, finally sliding to safety to grab the pole affixing my horse to the carousel.
“Hey, this was your idea,” I said as the traditional organ music began. “I was quite happy strolling down the boardwalk.”
“I thought it would be nice,” he said defensively.
“What’s your Instagram handle?” I tapped at my phone as if I was uploading the shot. “I’ll tag you.”
He grabbed my wrist with a savage grin. “Share that image and I will end you.”
“Okay, okay!” I made a show of putting my phone away. “Probably for the best. For one, I would never be able to come up with an adequate hashtag that quite captures the, ah, elegance of that moment.”
