The Thunderbolt gives us whiplash.
We’re thrown around so many times, going down steepdrops and jerked by sharp turns on the track, it’s hard to even follow what the hell’s going on.
This time we’re both yelling profanities into the wind, pissing people off with our dirty mouths. But we don’t give a damn as we hang on for the ride and wind up buzzing by the end.
“That was… that was insane!” Jhene cries out afterward. She’s stopped trying to keep her curls contained and decided to let them do as they wish, blowing in the summer air. “Okay, maybe I’m remembering what I used to love about these things.”
We ride two more rollercoasters back to back.
The Astrotower, which is a straightforward high-level drop sort of ride, taking us up a thousand feet in the air and then dropping us back down. It’s a quick ride, but one that leaves you questioning if you’re about to lose your lunch.
The Zenobio’s the one that gets me. The table’s have turned, and Jhene’s the one laughing as we’re rotating in circles midair, and I wind up growling and hurling threats at the ride itself. The fucking thing feels like it’s about to slip off its axis the way it sweeps us a hundred feet into the air and then launches us into somersaults.
Our legs shake coming off it. Our eyes meet and we draw the same conclusion.
“Okay,” she admits. “Maybe it’s time for a break from the coasters.”
“Lightweight.”
“Shut up,” she snaps, though her eyes glimmer with amusement. “Feed me and I’ll recover. I demand funnel cake.”
A chuckle leaves me. “Alright, you’ve got a point. We’re running on empty stomachs.”
“Good,” she huffs. “My blood sugar’s crashing, and if I don’t eat something fried and covered in powdered sugar in the next five minutes, I willnotbe responsible for my actions.”
“Down, stray. I’ll get food in you yet.”
We weave between the crowds roaming the boardwalk area and head off toward the food stalls.
Another thing that hasn’t changed after all these years—the funnel cake’s as fried and sugary as my brain remembers it.
We’re handed a plate piled high with fried dough and dusted with powdered sugar that seems more like an advertisement for diabetes.
But damn if we don’t dig in and tear off big greedy pieces for ourselves.
“This is a little too good.”
“You’ve gotten sugar all over you.”
Her tongue slips out for a swipe of her lips. “So do you, Killer. It’s in your beard.”
A grunt leaves me as I go to scrub at my jaw, but she beats me to the punch. She thumbs away the flecks of sugar while holding my gaze.
I grab her hand and growl, “You’re a damn tease, you know that?”
“A tease because I’m wiping sugar off you? Killer, you should bethankingme.”
“I’ll thank you, alright. C’mere.”
I pull her closer for a demanding kiss on the lips, licking up any residual flakes of sugar. My hand slides to her backside, and she giggles against my mouth as she fights to free herself.
“You are so obnoxious!” she says, shoving at my chest.
We ditch the funnel cake for some classic hot dogs loaded with mustard and sauerkraut. I finish mine in two bites and go back for seconds.
“Another one?” Jhene asks.
“I’m a big man, stray. I’ve got a big appetite.”
