Authors: Anne Eliot
Gray, who'd known full well how terrible that ride was, had laughed at my pasty faced, unable-to-walk reaction afterwards. But he'd also taken me to a bench and held me, wrapped in his arms until I stopped threatening to murder him.
The ride had sucked, but the time on that bench had quite possibly been the best twenty minutes of my life. Until the next best twenty minutes happened, that is.
And the twenty after that.
And this moment right now.
Because he's just pulled me closer and whispered, “Jess…do you know how amazing you smell?” using
that
voice.
He'd also spent over forty dollars determinedly throwing softballs at metal milk containers until he'd won me a giant, bright blue orangutan! We'd met up with Michelle and Corey at the Burrito Barn for lunch. Michelle had been happily toting the green version of my same orangutan. Her smile had been as wide as mine. Gotta love the boardwalk games. So fun.
After we ate, Gray had transported the stuffed animals to the minivan so we didn't have to lug them around. And, after a few rides with Corey and Michelle, we'd split up again, promising to meet at the gate at eight to head home.
Gray's only humoring me on this coaster because I told him I want to try the front seats and he agreed I should have that chance. I've never felt so spoiled and happy.
I vote this date is better than hiking, or the roller skating date. Mostly because, all day long, I've let myself buy into the idea that Gray and I could really be in love.
The fact that we've both said it has made this day simply perfect.
For today.
Only
for today. I'd said that too. I hope he listened.
To remind myself that this is all just temporary—an event with a time stamp and a price—I'd kept Gray's four-thousand dollar check in the little green bag I'm wearing. I try to look at the check after each ride. To keep things in perspective. The guy is getting paid. I'm paying the guy. That's what's happening here today. And that's all.
It's our turn. After a few cycles, we're allowed into the first row seats. Gray draws down the safety bar over our knees. He takes my hand and squeezes it next to his chest, acting like he's holding onto it for dear life. “Why do you have to adore the most terrifying ride in this park?”
I laugh, enjoying the fact that his face is slowly turning pale and we haven't started moving. “It's not half as scary as the upside down coaster,” I say.
What I'm really thinking, though, is that this ride is not half as scary as staring into his eyes right how. Because, by the look on his face, when this day is over, I'm probably going to hurt him. A lot. I'd never meant to get close enough to this guy to do that.
“This coaster is waaaaay worse,” he argues, unaware of my turmoil. “The upside down one is made out of pure, strong and silent metal. ThunderRoad terrifies me, because it reminds me every second that it was made in 1936 out of soft, breakable, burnable,
bug-eatable
, rickety WOOD. You know that at any second, part of it might shatter? That could send us tumbling down to our deaths? Not to mention, it was built before there were any sort of proper safety codes.”
“I'm sure they have those codes in place now,” I say, frowning a little.
We stare at the empty stretch of track ahead of us.
Rusty track.
“Oh God. I
hate
the front row. You are so going to owe me.” He swallows as the ‘stay in your seats at all times’ announcement plays on the loudspeaker.
A long bell sounds, followed by an odd, 1936-sounding clunk!
The coaster cars release and they click-clack slowly around the first corner. The front connects to an odd pulley mechanism that hauls the weight of the coaster up the first and largest hill. That's when I, the fearless coaster crusader, start to lose my nerve.
“This pulley contraption seems to have been made hundreds of years ago, not just in 1936,” I say. “What do you think?”
I can tell by Gray's face he thinks I'm teasing him. “Crap! Did you have to say that now? Relentless, cruel girlfriend!”
We both reach for each other's hands as though this were our last moment on earth.
The old chain has yank-click-yanked us all the way to the top of the first, huge drop. Gray puts his head on my shoulder and closes his eyes and says, “I want you to know if we die right now, I won't be able to distinguish if I've made it to heaven or not, because I'm already sitting here with you. Like this.”
Before I can accuse him of finding that line on the Internet, we whoosh down the huge hill. Everyone's screaming, including me. We fly into the next set of hills and turns.
Gray points to the huge looking moon rising over the sea of suburban houses in the distance. Too soon, the ride shoots us into the long mine shaft tunnel that marks the end.
Gray finally relaxes the death grip he's had on my hand. I love when he doesn't let go completely as we get off the ride. When we step out of the exit, the amusement park sparkles in the twilight. And still, he's holding my hand.
Every tree, bush and ride structure has been strung with a zillion small lights. I feel strange. I'm happy, inside and out. It's a feeling I haven't had in a very long time. And it's real—every bit of it. If only I could have it for keeps.
I look at Gray through my lashes as we walk along the lit pathways.
How does he make everything seem so easy. So possible?
I waver on my breakup plan, wondering, imagining that I could truly be with this guy. As his girlfriend. Would he truly be okay with my random panic-attacks? Would he be patient and wait for me when I sleep in my car during and after school? Would he get bored, or annoyed if I could never change that? Aren't couples supposed to eat lunch together and hang out, and both be awake? Would his friends notice or catch on—make fun of me? Would I care about any of it if Gray was by my side? Defending me? Loving me? What if I'm wrong? Am I giving up too soon—failing both of us—without even trying, like Michelle said?
“Do you want to rest?” he asks. “I know you're running out of steam. Maybe we should call Michelle and Corey and meet up a bit early? We've done everything there is to do.”
“Not everything,” I say, pulling him along, scanning the signs that mark the way around the park. “I still haven't seen the Fairy Gardens.”
He skids his feet and pulls me to a stop. His expression is tense, and he can't hold my gaze. “Jess. I—we need to talk.”
“We will. But first, I think… I want to, um, yeah.” I bite my lower lip and nod my head. “I definitely
need
to kiss you. Soon. In the Fairy Gardens.”
Determined not to let him back out of this, I drag him through the tree-lined entrance. “Do you want to? You know? Kiss me?”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Gray
“I want to kiss you more than anything.”
My heart is beating in time to the leaves fluttering in the bushes along the garden's entry path.
Did the girl really just say she needs to kiss me? Soon? Now?!
“Holy wow. Beautiful!” Jess gasps. We enter the main part of the Fairy Garden to where the pathway opens wider. It leads us to a giant fountain trickling through a back-lit pond that's filled with hand blown glass flowers in various colors, shapes and textures. A three foot bronze statue of a fairy with paper-thin glass wings holds court on a small island.
“This is amazing.” Jess's eyes are shining bright. “Look at the ground! Her wings—everything sparkles. How did they do this?” She releases my hand and dances across the paving stones, turning in every direction with her arms outstretched. She looks every inch like she belongs here in this garden with all the other magical creatures.
“It's been embedded with mica and fool's gold. I asked last year.”
She frowns and regards me solemnly. “How many girls have you brought here for the sole purpose of making out?”
“I haven't come here with
you
for the sole purpose of making out,” I evade, wondering if she can hear my heart.
She scrunches her nose, arches a brow, and meets my gaze dead on with her cutest challenge glare. “Well that's why I've brought you here.”
I laugh. “Pinch me if this is a dream—only not just yet. If there's going to be kissing, I want to wake up after it's over.”
Her cheeks turn pink as she paces around to the other side of the fountain and back. “Where do we—where do you—normally do this? Is there a
best
spot for kissing in this place? This is my first time, so I really want it to be perfect.”
My heart speeds even faster. “Honest. You've never?”
“Is that a problem?” She looks away as though I've embarrassed her.
“No. But this is added pressure on me,” I shake my head and lower my voice. “What if I mess it up? This is giving me a huge anxiety attack.”
“
I'm
the dork who's seventeen with zero kisses.
I'm
the one that's wondering if
I'll
be able to handle this—or—or—even measure up to all of the zillions of other girls you've probably kissed in this same spot. You're not allowed to have an anxiety attack. You're the best kisser in our whole school! Everyone knows that.”
“What?” I'm completely thrown off guard. “Where in the world did you get that twisted information?” I laugh.
She shrugs. “Gossip on your exploits, not to mention your kissing skills are a constant topic in the hallways. And in the locker room! Now buck up and sweep me off my feet before I totally chicken out.”
To distract myself from how large and luminous her eyes seem right now, I take her hand pull her along to the far side of the garden. “Weeping Willow, or streamside?”
“I love weeping willows.” Her voice is almost a squeak as we duck under the long branches and I can feel her hand trembling in mine.
Thankfully, the other couple who'd been occupying the weeping willow alcove leave when we approach. I lead her to a carved wooden bench made up of intertwining leaves and branches.
“Um. So. This is a really pretty bench. Yeah. Very cool. Hand made, I bet.” Her eyes flit in every direction that doesn't include me. She pulls her hand away from mine and crosses her arms over her chest. Then she uncrosses them. Then crosses them again.
I try not to notice—or laugh.
Her next words come out in a whispered rush. “I think I should tell you there's a huge possibility I might act all weird or freak out. It could happen after we kiss or even during. Okay? So, I just want you to know that. About me. Okay?”
“I know,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief that I'd finally said those words to her. It feels so good that I say them again. “Jess.
I know
.”
“You know? What do you know? Am I acting too nervous. God. How embarrassing. Why are you never nervous?”
I reach forward and grab both of her hands. Her gaze is fixed on my lips. Her light blue eyes are shimmery as though she's holding back tears and reflecting the tiny lights from overhead. I lower my voice, fearful that she's going to run on me. “I know everything. Let's just talk. I'm nervous too. Very.”
“I don't want to talk. Just, kiss me. Kiss me, right now. Then we can talk. Please. I can't concentrate. My stomach's doing these horrible twisty-flips and…your eyes are so green I can't focus…”
Before I can move an inch, Jess moves in and places her lips against mine. I register softness, heat and the sounds of our heartbeats intertwining. Gently, I kiss her back.
I let go of her hands so I can pull her closer. Her arms go around my neck and she's coiled her fingers into the back of my hair. The soft trembling feel of her lips sends lightning down my spine. And I soar, fly, and die of happiness all in the same second.
I pull back and look down at her sleepy, half-closed eyes. “How was that?” My voice has come out hoarse.
“Wow,” she whispers. “Can we try it one more time?”
Lost in the trust I see in her expression, I bring my hands to her cheeks and draw her in again. She presses her lips deeper, and I risk darting my tongue over her lips and into her mouth.
She gasps at the contact, and I take the opportunity to deepen the kiss and move my own fingers into her blonde curls.
She melts into me, unresisting, trusting. She kisses me back like she knows exactly what to do.
The back of my mind registers my favorite scent: sunshine plus cinnamon, and the idea that she tastes as good as she smells. A half second later she timidly runs her tongue along my bottom lip. This move shakes me and I disappear into sensation.
Time stands still, and we kiss, and kiss and kiss, until I feel tears on her cheeks.
She's crying!
Crap.
Startled, I pull away. I try to make out her expression as I work to recover one shred of my senses, not to mention some semblance of control over my body.