SEVEN Sebastian #3
“I turned down a flight with NOAA hurricane hunters once.” She’s cautious when she says it, like she’s telling me a secret. “I had the chance to go into the eyewall of a storm, and I couldn’t do it.”
“Why not?”
“I hate heights.” Her shoulders curve in. Her eyes flick up to the top of the ride then back to me. I’ve never seen her so hesitant. “They’re my biggest fear.”
“Ah.” I rub the back of my neck and pop to my feet. This feels like a conversation we should have face-to-face. “A different option then.”
“A punishment is a punishment. You won fair and square.”
“A punishment is a punishment until you have a panic attack at the top and try to escape, fail, then dangle like a limp noodle a hundred feet off the ground. And if you fall, you know who’s going to be the prime suspect?
Me. Being made into a Netflix documentary isn’t my thing, unless they’re going to show all the storms I’ve covered in my career.
They’d probably name it something atrocious like …
” I tap my cheek and stare out at the group of kids shoving their way into the go-kart arena. “Hanging by a Moment.”
“I’ll do it.” She breathes out what might be a laugh. I’m going to pretend it is. “But I’m going to film the whole time we’re up there. If something happens to me, there will be evidence.”
“Kinky. I’ll make sure to smile for the camera.” I grin. “C’mon, Monroe. Let’s have some fun.”
We find Cooper and Nate hanging out with Mia and Harlow in the music tent, the four of them jamming along to the cover band performing Oasis songs. A quick explanation about my victory has everyone heading for the Ferris wheel and pairing off, the ride the perfect way to end the night.
“We’re so high!” Mia yells from the car under Quincy and me. She leans forward over the railing, arms stretched wide at her sides. “The moon is huge up here! Gosh, we’re all small and insignificant, aren’t we?”
“If anything happens to my sister, Cooper,” I say, raising my voice so he can hear me over the machinery, “I swear to god our friendship is over.”
“Nothing is going to happen, Seb.” There’s a deep laugh as he pulls Mia out of view. “All is well down here.”
“Harlow and I also exist,” Nate says from the car above us. “And we’re fine too.”
“Of course you are. Harlow can kick anyone’s ass.
You’re just there to look pretty, Nate,” I call back, noticing the way Quincy is tapping her foot.
How she’s gnawing on her bottom lip and wrapping her arms around herself.
I scoop up the green dinosaur resting at my feet.
I pass it her way, not letting go until she draws it to her chest and hugs it tight.
“Your new emotional support stuffed animal might make this easier for you.”
“I can barely remember to feed myself. I’m not sure I’m equipped to handle the responsibilities that come with being a parent.”
“We can split custody. You get him during the week. I’ll take him on the weekends. I’m sure Reginald will be happy to spend time with both of us.”
“Reginald. I like that.” Her exhale is soft. “We can call him Reggie for short.”
“Look at us being coparents of the year.”
The Ferris wheel jolts. We climb higher, the fairground lights starting to look like fireflies.
The people walking along the paths below us are as tiny as ants, and Quincy shifts across the bench.
Our sides nearly collide. Our thighs line up, almost pressing together, and there’s no way she knows she’s sitting so close to me.
I’m aware of it, though. Of everywhere our knees and shoes are touching. Of her jagged breathing and the white knuckles she’s gripping the safety bar with, and I’m afraid to move a goddamn muscle out of fear I’ll scare her away.
Just as we reach the top of the rotation, the wheel comes to a stop. There’s creaking. The groan of old metal and the gentle sway of our car, and she’s practically shaking next to me.
This was a terrible idea.
“What’s happening? Did something break?” she asks.
“Maybe there’s a proposal going on. Or someone slipped the ride operator twenty bucks to slow the wheel down so they can have a few extra minutes with the person they love.”
“Love? Who’s thinking about romance right now? I’m considering which way I would try to hit the ground if we fell to our death.”
“Huh. I’d probably go for my legs instead of my upper body. It’s a lot easier to fix a broken leg than a broken spine.”
“We’re so high.”
“Don’t look down.”
“Telling me not to look down makes me want to look down.”
“Okay, fine. Look up, Monroe.”
“That is not helping.” She lets out a whine. Her leg bounces. I’m a second away from clamping my palm on her thigh to make her stop. “Can you talk about something to distract me?”
“Wow.” I laugh. “I’m used to you telling me to shut up and now you want me to talk? This is a big moment.”
“Your window is closing, Dunn.” She’s clutching Reginald so tightly, he’s close to being decapitated. I feel bad for the guy. “Please?”
“Did you see Tropical Depression Three developed into Claudia out in the Atlantic? Came out with the five o’clock advisory.”
“Already?” Quincy perks up. Color seeps back to her face. It always does when she talks about the things she loves, and she loves weather more than anyone I’ve ever met. “It just became a tropical depression yesterday.”
“Things move fast this time of year.”
“What are they suggesting for landfall? South Florida?”
“Most likely. That cold front coming across the country isn’t going to let it get scooped into the Caribbean, and that’s a good thing. Hottest water temperatures on record mean whatever does brew down there is going to turn into a monster.”
“Hottest water temperatures on record, and it’s only July. Think of what August and September will bring.”
“I’m afraid to. But fuck climate change, right?”
“I’m starting to wonder if they’re teaching conspiracy theories in school instead of geometry. How else do you explain the rise in comments on my social media that claim the government is creating storms in the middle of the ocean?”
“Oh.” I’m trying not to smile, but it’s impossible. “You didn’t hear? It’s the microwaves, Monroe. They’re brainwashing all of us.”
Quincy’s laugh is subtle, a noise she tries to disguise as a cough, but I hear it loud and clear.
“We’re so fucked, aren’t we?” she asks.
“Completely, so we might as well enjoy the impending downfall of society. Truth or Dare, Pres?”
“Do we have to play this while we dangle thousands of feet above the ground?”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”
“Truth, I guess.”