by B. Cranford
“I don’t know. I’ve seen your license; you might ruin my mid-ride photo. And then I’d have to do it again.”
“I had the flu that day, come on now. Don’t hold it against me.” Hold yourself against me instead. I really needed to rein myself in.
But I definitely didn’t want to.
“I kind of—I mean, the plan was to do it alone. To prove I could, you know?” She drew her hand back and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m not that brave, not usually. So . . .” Trailing off, she shrugged in a helpless way that made me want to grab her hand back—or maybe slide out from my side of the booth we were sitting in and pull her into a hug.
Except then she’d know I hadn’t exactly been having pure thoughts about her.
“You’re brave, Challenger. You looked terrified after the Tornado, but you did it. You clearly had reservations about coming out with me, yet here you are. Don’t sell yourself short.”
“I’d like to make a joke here about reservations and our date and, you know”—she swept her hand out to show off the fifties style café we were in—“this place, but it’s not the moment, is it?”
“It’s pretty much always the moment for a joke.”
“Touché. Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did,” I joked, miming hitting a drum. “See, always the moment for a joke.”
“Hilarious. But seriously, are you—I mean, do you like thrill rides?” She rolled her hand as if it was a roller coaster, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t appreciate her own miming skills.
Get yourself a girl who can mime, someone surely said at some point . . . or not.
Yeah, probably not.
“I’m guessing yes, you love them and think I’m a big wuss.”
I shook my head, mind moving on from Marcel Marceau. “I don’t think you’re a wuss. But yeah, I like them. I mean, I don’t tour the country going park to park to experience all the biggest, craziest rides, and I’m not going on them every day, but”—I shrugged, my smile almost apologetic though I didn’t know why—“they’re fun.”
“I figured. You don’t look like the ‘I’m going to die on this ride’ type.”
“I’m definitely not that. I like them enough that my friends thought it would be a good idea to drag me to Island Heights today, so yeah.” Dragging out the yeah, I fought to not cringe at the reminder that it was my birthday—and I’d essentially abandoned my friends when I’d spotted Lenny.
“Wait”—she held up her hand and gave me a look—“you came to the park with your friends?”
I nodded, opening my mouth to explain when she started waving her hand from side to side and spoke again, “Where are they now? Did I steal you from them? Kidnap you? Ruin some elaborately planned birthday surprise?”
Wanting to laugh but seeing that, behind the outlandish suggestions, she was genuinely concerned, I explained, “They’re probably still at the park, and I told them I’d catch up with them later if they were still around.” I didn’t mention the fact that I’d told them that after I’d rolled my tongue back into my mouth because seeing her sitting on that bench had affected me in ways I couldn’t quite put into words. “There was no elaborate surprise—the whole day was more of a ‘we should do something’ last-minute thing. And as for kidnapping me? I don’t think it’s called that if I came willingly.” I grinned at her, waiting for all that info to sink in. “For the record, I came very willingly.”
It took a moment or two, but when it finally did, her eyes flickered and darted away, a hint of pink coloring her cheeks. Then she grinned back at me. “Okay, that’s good.” Clasping her hands on the table, then in her lap, then settling on resting them on either side of her plate, she seemed to be waiting for me to say something, but before I could, she whispered, “God, my hands,” under her breath and my friends were once again forgotten.
Quieting the voice in my head that suggested those hands could be put to good use on my body, I asked, “What’s wrong with your hands?” They looked good—better than—to me.
“I can’t seem to work out what to do with them today. You haven’t noticed me flailing about over here?” She lifted her hands and shook them. “They’re just constantly in the way—why?”
“Are you nervous?”
A blush formed on her cheeks, answering my question.
“You are nervous.”
“Shut up. Go away. Leave me alone.” Covering her cheeks with her “flailing” hands, she laughed with me as I teased her some more.
Not wanting her to be embarrassed and wanting her to know she wasn’t the only one who was nervous, I confessed, “I might not be unsure of what to do with my hands, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been mentally flailing.”
A small grin. “Really?”
“Really.” I didn’t mention that my flailing was more like rolling around in bed with her with a side of mime, because I didn’t think that’d help her nerves. And I didn’t want her to think I was a pervert.
I wanted her to like me enough to spend some more time with me.
Chapter Three
Lenny
We walked hand-in-hand back into the park, and it felt strangely natural. I wasn’t exactly going around holding hands with men regularly—or hardly at all, to be honest—and yet, I had no qualms about pressing our palms together.
I’m a poet, I thought wryly, my habit of making jokes when nervous making itself known again.
Make that my habit of making jokes and being weird about my hands.
Thankfully, Rowan had taken matters into his own hands when he’d grabbed mine as we skirted around the cars in the parking lot to re-enter Island Heights. We were headed for Avalanche, the newest attraction—and the one sure to have the longest line. I’d barely been over the butterflies from the Tornado when they’d concentrated themselves on my lunch date with Rowan, and now I’d finally settled into some semblance of normal with him, they were churning up my stomach again. Eating a full meal before taking on Avalanche was not my brightest idea. I mean, yeah, even death row inmates get a last meal, but—
Oh god. I’m going to die.
Ah, yes. My old friend anxiety had returned for another trip down “how will this roller coaster end your life” lane. Fun times.
“Tell me about your interview,” Rowan said, tugging my hand slightly to lead me down one of the narrow lanes that weaved through the park. “It’ll help get your mind off what’s coming.”
I wish I were coming. And there we were in my mind again, hands tangled in the sheets, breathing choppy. Instead of regular ole death, I was thinking of la petite mort—the little death. A nice change of pace, actually.
“There’s a new elementary school opening in this area, and I applied several weeks ago. It’s kind of late for them to be hiring for the school year”—it was mid-July, and teachers were due to go back in a month—“but apparently one of the teachers they’d hired was put on early bed rest. She’s pregnant,” I added as an afterthought, in case it wasn’t obvious what I was talking about.
Rowan chuckled. “I figured. So, it went well?”
“It did yeah. At least, I think so. I answered all their questions and showed them a few lesson plans I’ve created over the years for various grade levels.”
“You’ve been teaching for a while then?”
“Nearly six years. I was a substitute for my first two years, so full-time teaching for four years now.” The smell of funnel cake distracted me from our conversation, and despite the fact we’d just eaten, my stomach grumbled loudly.
Loudly enough that Rowan could hear it over the crowd, but not quite as loud as his had been.
“Hungry there, Len? Who’s the shape-shifter now?” His chuckle was deep and sent another wave of tingles through me. If you’re keeping track, that makes three waves of tingles and countless little shivers.
This guy was having a serious effect on me.
“I didn’t think I was, but funnel cake always smells so goo
d.” I made a face and kept us walking when he would have stopped. “Better not eat anything else before this ride though. Imagine if I threw up.”
I wanted to take the words back so badly, and yet, I couldn’t. They were out there, and now the man I’d been flirting with had a lovely image of me vomiting. Wicked.
“That’d definitely ruin your photo,” he quipped, squeezing my hand and making my discomfort head for the hills. “When will you hear about the job?”
Grateful to be back on track, I wavered my head a little. “Not sure, but soon. Hopefully. Because if I do get it, then I’ll need time to find a place to live and move down this way before the school year starts. It’ll be a rush even if they called today.”
“You think you’re going to get it then?” He nodded. “I think you will too.”
“You do? Is that your professional opinion?” I joked.
“Yes, as a respected dentist, and as the man who’d like you to be closer so we can continue to get to know one another.”
Unable to keep my happiness off my face, a feeling that spread wide and fast enough to briefly blot out my nerves at my impending doom, I grinned. “I’d like that. A lot.”
“I don’t like this. I hate this. Why am I doing this? I’m going to die.” I tightened my hands—one wrapped around the safety bar that was all that stood between me and certain death, the other gripping Rowan’s like a lifeline.
And by the way, when I say gripping, I mean crushing in a white-knuckled hold that made it clear to him and everyone around us that I was freaking the hell out. If my non-stop chant of “I’m going to die” hadn’t already clued them in, that is.
“We can still get off. Lenny, are you listening? You do not have to do this.” Rowan moved his head forward as much as the safety bars would allow and tried to meet my eyes. But I couldn’t look at him. In fact, I couldn’t look at anything.
I squeezed my eyes closed, shaking my head because I knew I needed to see this stupid challenge through—for myself, not anyone else, let me be clear about that—and breathed deeply.
I swear I felt the clinking, clunking noise of the coaster moving away from the platform in every single cell of my body. I was a bundle of terror, nerves, and adrenaline, and I hoped against hope that I’d live through the coming minutes and make it back in one piece.
If I did, I decided, I would kiss the hell out of Rowan—something I’d been thinking about with increasing frequency in the nearly hour-long wait for our turn on Avalanche—and then get a damn funnel cake.
“You’re going to be fine, Lenny. I promise.” Rowan’s reassuring voice, low, warm, and a little rough was the last thing I heard before there was nothing but the rush of wind and the clink-clunk of the ride.
At the peak of the first hill, I thought I would pass out.
As we streaked around the second loop-de-loop, I was sure I was about to fall upside down to the ground and break my neck.
When we stopped suddenly, then rolled backward down and around dark corners at speeds of I’m going to throw up, I made my peace with God and mentally sent Willa a message of love I hoped she’d receive through our twin bond.
By the time the car pulled back up to the platform, I was a mess. My eyes watered, my hands were shaking and sweaty, and my heart beat at least three times faster than the roller coaster’s top speed.
I felt alive.
“What did you think?” Rowan held out a hand to help me step over the other seats and onto the safe, solid concrete walkway that led to the ride’s exit, his bright white smile and happy crinkles reassuring. “Are you okay?”
I couldn’t reply, my throat had completely locked down. Instead, I merely nodded and walked on wobbly legs—again—toward the exit and tried to gather my thoughts. How could I tell him I’d never felt better or worse at the same time?
Moving down the path, I held his hand while dodging the crowd and making for a small copse of trees that was off to the side of one of the food shacks that littered the park grounds. I wasn’t entirely sure why I’d chosen there—or even if I’d consciously chosen it at all—but I was on a mission.
A mission that was complete when we stood beneath the shade of the dogwoods and I spun around to face him, cupped his cheeks, and pressed my lips against his in a kiss that put all those other tingles to shame.
Indescribable.
The feeling that I got when our lips met was so intense, so real, that everything else just sort of floated away. My fear, gone. The death thoughts, nonexistent. It was just Rowan and me beneath a small grouping of trees. No one else.
His lips were firm and insistent. While I initiated the kiss, he took it to the next level, his tongue tracing my lips until I opened to him, his arms wrapping around me, bringing me closer, closer, until there was no space between us at all. I felt so much—every inch of my skin tingled, flamed, as he moved his mouth to the same rhythm as mine, caressing and sipping and dancing.
I moved my hands from his cheeks to the back of his neck, draping my arms over his shoulders, losing myself in the press of him against me.
Against me.
Shy Eleanora Johnstone, the too-tall girl, the quiet twin, the one who everyone looked askance at when they found out about her “silly” fears.
There was nothing shy about this kiss. It was hotter than the high July sun, warming me up—burning me up—from the inside until all I could think about was Rowan. Kissing him, touching him, finding somewhere to take him so I could pull his T-shirt over his head, unbutton my blouse, and feel his bare skin against mine.
“Lenny, shit.” He pulled back, but not by much. Enough only to let his forehead rest on mine, his eyes closed and his breathing heavy.
His lips against my ear, my name a whisper of sound, our hands linked and holding tight. My mind went into hyperdrive, the scene playing on repeat in my head.
“Lenny,” he said again. “You have no idea how much I want to keep doing this—”
“If it’s half as much as I want to, then yes, I do,” I interrupted, tracing a circle on his nape with my forefinger, glorying when he quietly groaned, his eyes flying open to lock with mine. “Rowan.”
His smile was gentle, but oh, it looked so good. To be on the receiving end of it felt like I’d won something important, done something special. “Was that just the adrenaline surge?”
I shook my head, then nodded. “No, although I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a factor. I wanted to kiss you, but the adrenaline gave me courage.”
“Then I wholeheartedly approve of your plan to push yourself, Challenger.”
Feeling giddy—like, joyously, nauseatingly, sweetly giddy—I laughed at the nickname and leaned in to brush our lips together again in a soft, quick kiss. I wasn’t sure I could give more without stripping down in the middle of the amusement park and begging him to take me.
Not a thought I’d ever expected to have in my life, yet here I was.
Rowan cleared his throat in a way that made me wonder if he thought the same thing I did. “We should probably, ah, maybe move on?”
Laughing at the look of discomfort on his face—the source of which I could feel pressed against me—I nodded my agreement. “Funnel cake? I promised myself if I survived Avalanche, I’d kiss you then get a funnel cake.”
“And you’ve already kissed me.”
“You make it sound like more kissing is off the table,” I retorted, a twinge of worry making me wonder if maybe he hadn’t enjoyed it as much as I had. Which was stupid, since I had clear, unassailable evidence that he’d enjoyed it a whole hell of a lot.
“Only until we’re somewhere more private,” he assured me, kissing the tip of my nose and stepping back, looking around surreptitiously before adjusting himself. “There are kids around.”
Reaching up, I touched my nose, doing a little internal dance. “How soon can we find somewhere private?”
Chapter Four
Rowan
Private wasn’t so easy to find, sadly. After being acc
osted with a kiss that damn near leveled me, all I wanted to do was get us both naked ASAP. Instead, I focused on something else. Lenny’s list of fears to face. “How many more rides do you have on that list of yours?”
She squinted her eyes and tapped her chin—an exaggerated and adorable look of concentration on her face. “Rides? None. I think I can safely check ‘roller coasters’ off, can’t I?”
I nodded. “The Tornado and Avalanche are the two biggest ones here. Once you’ve done them, everything else is gravy.”
“Good. And by good, I mean, thank god. It only took me a day and a half of wandering around this place to work up the courage to actually ride the damn things.” She laughed, sounding more relieved than amused. “And probably ten times on the carousel. I’m sure the staff here think I have a fiberglass horse fetish.”
Laughing, I asked, “Wanna play some games then?”
A big smile was all the answer I needed. For the next couple of hours, I spent more money on rigged arcade games than I had in my life.
It was totally worth it.
Walking from the park toward my car at the end of the day, I flicked the ear on the giant bunny she cradled in her arms. “He going to fit on the bus?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe?” Biting down on her lower lip, she looked away from me.
“Hey, what’s the matter?”
“What? Oh, nothing. I just—I’ll have to ask the driver if I can bring him on board and . . .” she trailed off, cheeks pinking. “I get nervous.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “Maybe Hagrid can live with you instead?”
“Hagrid?”
“Please tell me you know Harry Potter. Please tell me I didn’t kiss a man who doesn’t know the Boy Who Lived.”
Laughing, I threw an arm over her shoulder. “I know the Boy Who Lived, I promise. I just didn’t realize you’d already named your bunny.”