Chapter Twenty-Five #2
The only upside is that aside from a few random calls, I haven’t heard from or seen Rowan. He hasn’t tried to hunt me down or send me any unsolicited text messages. I guess he really is scared of jail time.
So why is some small part of me disappointed that he hasn’t broken down my front door, demanding that I see him?
It’s probably because I crave seeing him in general, no matter the context. But even I can see when something isn’t right—and being stalked and lied to is definitely a red flag. No amount of flawless sex or warm, homey feelings is going to change that.
I do wonder, though, if he genuinely believes all that crazy shit about us being in love before. He seemed to. Thinking back to how he was when I left him, he seemed completely distraught and broken.
As if he were losing something far more important than himself or the new relationship we had built.
And if he really does believe it, I guess that makes him crazier than I originally thought him to be.
4:30 p.m. on Friday sneaks up on me, and I’m standing in front of the Fort Myers fairgrounds in my jeans and sweatshirt, racked with nerves, far sooner than I anticipated.
Bennett is somewhere inside, and I can’t shake this nasty feeling that I am betraying Rowan. Which is so fucking stupid—not only is he not here to see me anyway, but I owe him nothing. Just because he doesn’t like the guy doesn’t mean I can’t.
I let that notion drive me, and I enter the fair, looking through the crowd for blond hair and blue eyes. My anxiety is peaking again, and I remind myself that I can’t stay too long—I’ve been routinely taking my anxiety medication around 8 p.m. these past few days.
It’s supposed to be used on an as-needed basis, but I feel I’ve never needed it more than I have recently.
“Elijah!” Bennett’s excited voice rings out, and as I’m pulled from my thoughts, I find him leaving the ticket booth.
When he approaches me, I am bombarded with the overwhelming scent of cinnamon. It must be his cologne, and I can feel myself craving the sweet scent of chrysanthemums and pine needles.
“Hey, how are you?”
“I’m great! Here, I got you a wristband for the rides and some game tickets. What do you want to do first?" he asks.
The rides?! Hell no. I may be able to pull off the kiddie train or something, but I’m not going anywhere near that rickety Ferris wheel.
“Games, for sure,” I say, and Bennett chuckles.
“Follow me, then. I know the perfect one.”
I’m dragged to a ring toss booth where we both lose spectacularly, which is all fine and well. It’s kind of nice, actually—to be able to laugh and tease each other as we play.
Something is anxiety-relieving about these childish games and the way Bennett throws his entire body into them. And after I beat him at the basketball station that has been set up, I find myself standing taller, breathing easier.
My life has been stuck in hard mode lately, and I think Bennett was right—I need a break.
We end up at the strength game next, and Bennett picks up the mallet with ease.
“If I win you this bunny,” he points to the biggest stuffed prize available. “I demand a kiss on the cheek.”
I study the muscles of his arms and his cocky grin, already aware that he’s most likely played and won this game a million times.
This is a bet Bennett is one-hundred percent ready to cash in on, and I find myself laughing at the completely obvious trap laid out in front of me.
“Okay, big guy. Give it your all,” I tell him.
Bennett winks before handing the man running the game three tickets. Then he swings back the mallet and slams it down—hard. The light shoots up, slamming into the bell at the top.
“Good job, son, take your pick of the prizes,” says the elderly man, and at the sound of his voice, I recognize him as the bingo caller from the community center.
Images of Rowan flash before my eyes, and I shiver with awareness as Bennett grins at me.
“So?” he prompts me, and I shake away my memories with a renewed sense of motivation and step forward.
“We’ll take the stuffed bunny, please.” And then, I turn to my right and stand on the tip of my toes, laying a soft kiss right on Bennett’s cheek. He flushes red, grinning even wider as he stares down at me.
“Totally worth how sore my arm is right now,” he says, and I laugh as the man hands me our prize.
As we move to one of the food stands and Bennett orders a funnel cake to share, he runs a hand over the ears of the bunny.
“So, what will you name him?”
“Name?” I ask, and he nods.
“Yeah, we have to name him if we’re taking custody.”
I didn’t know we were playing the whole thing out. A name? Fuck, I’m not very sentimental.
But Bennett is staring at me with those big eyes, and I’m really trying to make this whole date thing work right now. So I think, and I think hard. And suddenly, the perfect name comes to me.
“Felix,” I say, and Bennett raises a brow.
“Okay, that’s cute. I don’t know a Felix.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Me either. I just felt right.”
Something about the name soothes an itch inside of me that I wasn’t aware was bothering me. Maybe I’ll name my future child Felix—if I ever have one.
Bennett wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes gently, once again overwhelming me with the scent of cinnamon as he says:
“That’s all that matters, then. Felix is it.”
We spend a good amount of time polishing off our funnel cake and playing various festival games, including watching Bennett annihilate the apple bobbing contest.
And just as the sun has begun to set and I feel as if I’ve actually made the right choice in showing up here, he takes me by the hand and drags me toward the back of the grounds where the rides have been constructed.
“Let’s ride this one,” Bennett says excitedly, pulling us into the short line for The Tower of Terror.
It’s one of those rides where they strap you in and raise you a few stories only to drop you straight back down.
My irrational fear of heights is kicking into overdrive at the sight, and I attempt to tug my hand from Bennett’s death grip.
“Uh, no. Absolutely not.” I can hear the fear in my voice, and I pray he can too.
Bennett just laughs. “Everyone says that at first! But after you ride it, you’ll totally want to go again. Trust me, I ride this every year. It’ll be super fun; I’ll even hold your hand.”
Up until now, the date had honestly been going decently well. Sure, every little thing seems to remind me of Rowan, and this guilt sits heavy in my chest, but other than that, I seem to be enjoying myself.
As if some integral part of myself has changed since moving here, and I now enjoy the intimacy of spending time with a person rather than just fucking them.
But now? I kind of want to bash Bennett upside the head. The Tower of Terror? Are you fucking kidding me? Terror is literally in the name.
And now we’re next in line, and it doesn’t matter how hard I tug, he is not letting me go.
“Bennett, I’m serious. I really don’t want to ride this,” I say sternly.
He pulls me to the line of seats and guides me to the chair at the end, pushing me into it.
“Don’t be a scaredy cat, Eli,” he jokes. “Here, see how secure this bar is?” Bennett pulls the lap bar over my waist and locks me in, and I can feel my own heavy pants scraping out of my throat and into the open fall air.
“I-I think I’m going to vomit,” I groan, gripping the bar.
Several other people are taking their seats, including Bennett, who sits himself next to me. He tries to pry my hand off the bar to hold it, but I’m not letting go.
No way am I sacrificing my hold on the only safety device I have just to hold his hand. At this moment, I hate him. I should have screamed and caused a scene—social image be damned.
“Mister!” I call to the ride attendee. “Let me off. I don’t want to ride.”
The man takes one step toward us but stops at the sound of Bennett’s laugh.
Then he says, “Henry, don’t worry about it. He’s just nervous. Eli will love it once we come down.”
Henry—who clearly should be fired—grins back at Bennett and steps toward the control podium.
“When we get off of this ride, I’m kicking your ass,” I say in threat, and Bennett seems to find this funny. As if I’m joking.
I think I’ve taken it too easy on him. I think he genuinely believes I’m far nicer than I am—and maybe that’s my fault. If I’d been more honest about my true personality, maybe he wouldn’t have dragged me on here against my will.
The ride springs to life, grinding loudly as it slowly begins to raise us.
“Oh, god. Oh my god. I’m going to die,” I mumble, staring below us as my feet dangle. My heart is beating so loudly I’m quite sure the entire festival can hear it, and I’m shaking like a newborn baby horse.
“Woohoo!” Bennett shouts.
As we near the top, I am able to see the pinks and oranges of a beautiful Fort Myers sunset. I can make out the entirety of the festival grounds, and my only saving grace is knowing I won’t be taken as high as the Ferris wheel.
We stop at a standstill when we reach the top, and I wheeze against my own fear and the shaking of my hands and shoulders.
“Hey,” Bennett says softly, suddenly aware of just how scared I am. “Look at me, Eli. It’s okay.”
But I refuse to look at him. Not only am I extremely pissed at him, but I’m afraid that if I look away from this sunset, I’ll truly lose it.
If I make it off of this thing alive, I’m going to strangle Bennett and then crawl into bed and stay there for the entire weekend.
The sunset, Elijah. Focus on how pretty the colors are, on the cool air around you, and the sound of laughter and the smell of delicious food.
I’m going to be okay. This anxiety, this voice in my head that’s replaying all of the horrific ways in which I can die here, its only reason for existence is to scare me. Nothing here can hurt me.
I repeat this mantra as if my life depends on it—and honestly, I think it might. And though it does help to calm me slightly, it does not remove the terror portion of the ride.
As we drop to the ground so many stories below, everything around me turns black, and I lose consciousness.
The sunset is quite beautiful. All oranges and pinks blended perfectly with the soft fall breeze. My jacket flutters around me as I fall, and I can feel the pull of gravity in my chest. Down, down, down I go.
And I am happy for it. So happy for this release, for this escape. It has always been here, I’m realizing. Why I have waited this long, I am unsure.
The end to my torment was always in reach. I let myself sit in sorrow and suffering for so long, almost as if to punish myself.
But for what? What did I do that was so horrendous that I deserved this life? Another question that will be left unanswered—but I am unwilling to stick around in search of clarity.
I am happy to end things here. I am relieved to fall.
Or I was. Just moments ago, I was.
But there he is. So beautiful above me is Aaron—he clears the railing so easily with his long, muscled limbs. I admire every inch of him as he jumps, and I feel such longing as it lies side by side with my newfound terror.
Black curls take flight in the wind, the only part of him not meant to plummet straight down. Vivid green eyes stare directly at me—he never finds a rhyme or a reason to look anywhere else. Always directing that chilling gaze right at me, as if he cannot stand to watch anything else.
I don’t want him to die. Not like this—not with me. I never wanted to hurt anyone.
Silly little flightless bluebird, always so certain he can save me. That he can fix it. That he can achieve the impossible.
I love you, Aaron. I want to scream it. I want to etch it into my skin, bloody and irreversible. But instead, we will die here together.
Unless… if my body were to cushion his, if I were to stop his fall—could he live? I am to die anyway; I might as well try.
My hands reach for him on instinct; the desire to save him with my last breath is so strong that I can practically taste it.
My peaceful release is now a stressful, last-minute attempt to cradle the one person I love with my entire being.
And here we fall, like an old, vintage painting as we stay reaching toward one another.
I do my best to move completely into his line of descent. This angle, this trajectory—I will let myself die believing it will save him.
Aaron’s face is the last thing I see before I smack against the Earth, and everything around me snaps to black.