Margot’s brows draw together but her smile doesn’t falter. “Oh, yeah… of course. Sometimes, I forget that other people aren’t as excited as I am to hop on a rollercoaster first thing in the morning.”
I will never be excited to get on a rollercoaster. The time of day is highly irrelevant.
By noon, I’ve won three stuffed animals and eaten more junk food than I care to admit. But if I thought that showering Margot with colorful plush toys and hot, fresh churros would detract from her desire to be flung halfway to space on a rickety old metal track, I was mistaken.
Tossing the last dart at the wall of balloons, I watch Margot’s gaze shift once again to the rollercoaster in the distance. The sound of the riders’ screams drowns out the quiet pop of a blue balloon.
“Frog or duck?” the teenage game attendant asks flatly between glances at his cell phone.
My eyes shift to Margot, whose stare is still firmly affixed to the towering ride in the distance. When she fails to answer his question, I point to the small neon green frog in the attendant’s left hand then pass the toy to Margot. Slowly dragging her attention back to me, she takes the frog with a soft “thanks” and adds it to the growing pile of stuffed animals in her purse.
Margot shifts her weight to her other foot and bites down on her lip. My stomach drops because I can see the question in her eyes before it even leaves her mouth.
“Do you want to go on the rollercoaster now?” After a beat of hesitation—mine, not hers—Margot adds, “Or we could do the log ride first.”
Right on cue, a chorus of blood-curdling shrieks rips through the air, followed by a loud splash in the distance. I cup the back of my neck with my hand, trying and failing to rub away the ball of tension at the base of my skull.
“Should we wait a bit?” I ask, looking anywhere but straight at Margot’s face, knowing I’ll only find disappointment there. “I mean, we did eat pretty recently, and there’s all that water…”
Right. Safety first. Dignity last.
Margot’s brow pinches together. Her short laugh is more confusion than amusement. She glances in the direction of the rushing water then back at me. “Well, there’s not really any swimming involved, so I don’t know if that rule really applies here.” She studies my face for a second. “Is something wrong? I’m getting the distinct impression that you don’t really want to go on any of the rides.”
Silence is my only response. I can’t give myself an internal pep talk and speak at the same time, apparently.
“If you want to start with something a little tamer, we could try the Ferris wheel,” Margot offers.
Another painfully long pause follows.
“I’m not really a big fan of Ferris wheels,” I tell her. It’s the first bit of honesty I’ve offered. Because just like rollercoasters, Ferris wheels tend to be quite tall. Then there’s the part about the swinging bench seat, which I’m also not particularly fond of. Is it too much to ask for a fully enclosed ride car if they insist on dangling people a hundred feet in the air?
“Ethan,” Margot says, a knowing look overtaking her features, “are you afraid of heights?”
“No,” I answer too quickly. “I just happen to have a healthy respect for physics, paired with a deep mistrust in anything held together by old bolts and blind optimism.”
“So, youareafraid of heights then?” Margot repeats, her smile widening.
“I’m glad my advanced situational awareness amuses you.”
“I’m not amused, just surprised. I thought the North brothers were famous for scaling mountains and leaping out of airplanes.”
“Garrett likes that stuff, but I’m strictly a fan of anything that keeps my feet at ground level—hiking, snowboarding, surfing…”
Margot rolls her lips together. The smile that reappears afterwards is more subdued and sympathetic. I don’t need her sympathy though. If anything, I feel bad for all the people whose evolutionary response to such obvious threats to their mortality is less evolved than mine. I mean, how many people die every year on these contraptions? Ones? Tens? Dozens?
Okay, probably only one or two, but still. At least I know I won’t be one of them.
Margot’s hand moves to my shoulder, gently resting there. The calming effect is instant. So is the realization that it shouldn’t be.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” she begins, “because I’m so grateful that you came with me today. I was really bummed about missing out on my annual birthday tradition, but I didn’t think it would be much fun to come here alone. But if your, um, advanced situational awareness prevents you from going on the rides, then why did you decide to come with me?”
“Because I couldn’t stand the thought of you being disappointed or alone on your birthday. I wanted to make sure that today was special. You deserve the world on your birthday, Margot.”
The playful smile disappears from her face, and she’s staring up at me with a hint of moisture in the corners of her eyes. Now more than ever, I want to wrap my arms around her and feel the way her body might fit against mine. To taste the salt of her skin and the sweetness of her lips. To see if our second kiss might be even better than our first. And judging by the way Margot is looking at me right now, all soft and sweet, I think she might allow it. Welcome it, even.
But we both agreed that there would be no second kiss, so I cut the tension with a joke, adding, “And if we’re being honest… because I didn’t think you would be a fan of the big thrill rides.”
Margot gives me a coy smile. “Well, I guess we both have a few secrets up our sleeves still.”