Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
ALICE
Gondolas are boats in Italy. Of course I’d pick that over a bus. Gondolas are boats.
Except this is no boat.
After Charlie and I leave the hedgerow, he leads me to a small shack right outside downtown. A shack . The sign out front says Ponderosa Falls Aerial Tramway: Your Friends in Flight Since 1962. And I nearly pass out in the dirt parking lot.
Aerial tramway?
I can see the cable lines beside us. Thick black cords reach diagonally into the sky, that cable line stretching over acres of trees until it reaches the summit of a mountain over a mile away. At the end of that cable line, a small orange tramway car sways back and forth in the distance, just hanging there. Like an heirloom tomato on a vine that’s waiting to fall off.
Nope. No way.
This is not the excursion I signed up for. This is not an Italian-style boat destined to glide down a lazy river. It’s a sky-bound death trap—a metal coffin suspended by cables—and I don’t even know what to say.
Charlie guides me inside, buys tickets for us, and I still don’t know what to say.
It’s a good thing there’s a long line waiting for the next tram to show up. That there are only two orange metal death boxes and you have to wait eight minutes for the next one to arrive. Because that means I have plenty of time to stand around and visualize my untimely end.
The wooden signs around us announce that our destination is the top of Four Pines Peak, and that name sounds familiar. There’s a shuttle bus that goes up there a few times a day, a nice easy ride on an actual road according to the pamphlet I read at the bus station. But I had to pick aerial death.
Why do gondolas have to sound so inviting? Why is that word so much more enchanting than bus ?
I’m going to die in a gondola.
“This is going to be amazing!” I tell Charlie when it’s our turn to board. Because this is what I picked, and he’s already paid for the tickets.
Something about my tone tips him off, and he gives me a curious glance. An are you okay, Kilpatrick? glance.
Before I can confess, we’re ushered into our tramway car. It isn’t spacious; it’s a metal rectangle that’s taller than it is wide. This thing is the size of a small closet, and we aren’t the only people in here. Five other passengers have already boarded, yet nobody shuts the sliding metal doors behind us.
There’s a commotion on the loading ramp. A couple with reservations has arrived, and two more people squeeze into our sardine-can death trap. People we recognize.
Jason and Tiffany.
Sweet mother of raccoons. It’s the end of days.
The doors of our tram slide shut, and reality sinks in. I’m trapped in the worst kind of gondola, a coffin in the sky. With my ex.
They’re at the opposite end of the tram, but it feels like they’re right beside us. That’s how small and crowded this thing is. It’s standing room only, and there aren’t even any benches I can sit on to support me in my time of need. It’s just handrails and wall-to-wall windows in here—and my ex. A man who messaged me late last night to accidentally make me feel bad about my genetic code.
I can’t bear to look at him right now, or Tiffany, who probably has flawless DNA. But it’s fine. Our tram jolts into motion, and suddenly, that’s all I care about.
I grip the handrail behind me, strangling it with both hands. Before I know it, we’re a speck in the sky. Gliding past treetops while my heart squeezes as tight as a fist. Have I mentioned I’m afraid of heights?
I should’ve warned Charlie when I moved in. I should’ve given him a nice list of all my fears and phobias. If I had, I wouldn’t be in the air right now, quietly panicking with no way out.
Everyone else is fine. All around me, people are gazing happily at the view, even Charlie. He looks so joyful up here, his face full of wonder as he glances out the window, and it’s the most endearing thing I’ve ever seen. Especially from the local bad boy.
Once we’re in the air, I barely notice Jason and Tiffany—that’s the other perk of this doom voyage. When faced with a high-altitude demise, my ex doesn’t matter anymore. But that doesn’t mean he’s forgotten about me.
When I glance up, Jason is giving Charlie a faint scowl I don’t like, and Tiffany doesn’t like it either. She nudges him to make him stop, and they have a whole quiet argument with their eyes. If Charlie notices, he pretends he doesn’t. That boy keeps his gaze fixed on the treetops outside.
When Tiffany finally glances away, Jason nods to Charlie across the tramway car, his scowl shifting into a smirk. “How’s roommate life treating you?”
“Fine.”
Charlie pairs that with a friendly shrug, keeping things light, but dread pinches in my stomach anyway. I don’t know where this is going, why Jason is talking to Charlie at all. Then his smirk deepens, and I know.
Humiliation.
“She gets lost in her own world a lot,” he tells Charlie. “I bet it’s like she isn’t even there.”
Before Charlie can respond, he keeps going. “She’s probably spending most of her time writing. Has she unpacked her giant typewriter yet? She’s got a whole ritual.”
It’s embarrass-Alice-in-a-gondola time. If he’s doing it to smooth things over with Tiffany, to prove he doesn’t care about me anymore, it works. My face flames scarlet, and she looks way less upset than before, donning a quiet smirk of her own.
My mood takes a nosedive. I have no idea what to say or how to respond, but Charlie doesn’t miss a beat. He angles his body toward mine and goes full sky rake. Tucking my hair behind my ear, he winks before glancing back at my ex.
“Yeah, her writer’s block ritual is pretty adorable. She’s kind of dangerous that way. Too cute for her own good.”
Charlie’s eyes drift back toward mine, and his crooked grin is the most lethal thing I’ve ever seen. When paired with his dimples, it’s the ultimate weapon of mass seduction. One glance makes me forget anything else exists. Including this gondola.
Then our tramway car wobbles, swaying like a pendulum, and I remember.
I reach for Charlie’s hand to steady myself, and he must think it’s all an act, that I’m trying to tackle item number three on our Naughty List— make Alice’s ex jealous. He tilts his head and presses a slow kiss to my temple in return. That gesture is soft and sure, as if we belong to each other, and my body sways.
Or maybe it’s anxiety that’s making me wobble. All the danger around me and this dreaded gondola.
Either way, I take full advantage of our situation and get a little closer. Leaning against him, I rest my head on Charlie’s shoulder, and he waits a few beats before he whispers in my ear. “There’s no time like showtime.”
My heart sinks, even though it shouldn’t. Of course Charlie thinks this is all about Jason. Why wouldn’t he? I’m not his type, and there’s no other reason for me to hold his hand or put my head on his shoulder.
He doesn’t take me seriously. At least, I don’t think he does. But then he leans back in, and his next whisper is lower, softer. His voice a playful tease just for me, like my ex isn’t even there.
“You’re pretty cute when you get all dressed up,” he says. “How hard do I need to beg before you put on that maid costume again?”
I choke back a laugh, elbowing him as he chuckles. And I’m honestly not sure which is going to be the death of me first.
Him or this gondola.