7. Sawyer #2
It rings twice. Three times.
He’s probably standing at the entrance to the ride, wondering where the hell I am. Maybe he’s worried.
Four rings.
I look at Knox and see the challenge in his eyes before I glance into the open locker between us like a gaping mouth waiting to swallow my phone whole along with the last chance to change my mind.
Five rings.
My finger moves.
I decline the call.
The sudden silence is jarring.
For a second, I just stand there, phone in hand, staring at the screen as it goes dark. Then I hand it to Knox. His fingers brush mine as he takes it, and he holds my gaze for a beat longer than necessary before placing the phone carefully on top of my bag.
When he slams the locker shut, I jump, and that feeling of defiance, that adrenaline burst, courses through me again.
I’m doing this.
“Ready?” he asks.
No. “Yeah.”
He turns and heads toward the queue entrance, and I follow, leaving my phone and Owen’s unanswered calls locked away with Knox’s things like they belong together.
The queue winds through a covered area painted in black and white, with checkered flags hanging from the ceiling and vintage racing posters plastered on the walls. Our express line bypasses most of that, snaking around the queue and leading directly to a set of metal stairs.
I crane my neck. They must climb three stories at least, zigzagging back and forth up to the loading platform high above us. My stomach drops but somehow I feel giddy.
“Come on,” Knox says, grabbing my hand.
I follow, gripping the handrail with my free hand as we climb. The metal stairs clang under our feet, vibrating as other riders move above and below us. Knox doesn’t let go of my hand, even when the stairs narrow and we have to go single file.
My thighs are burning and I’m breathing hard by the time we reach the first landing. Anxiety is creeping its way in, but I shove that bitch away.
You made a choice. Live with it.
Through the metal grating beneath my feet, I can see people in the regular line far below, moving like ants through their roped off maze.
The mechanical sounds of the coaster are getting louder with each step. That click-click-click of the chain lift bringing riders high up. That whoosh of cars flying past overhead. Screams cutting through the air that make my pulse hammer.
“You scared?” Knox asks as we hit the second landing. He finally glances back at me.
“Not really.”
He narrows his gaze reading me like a book but doesn’t give me a hard time for once.
We start up the third flight, and we both turn at the sound of Owen’s voice echoing up from below.
“Excuse me—sorry—I need to get through—”
I freeze mid-step, and tighten my hand around Knox’s. He stops too, and both of us look down through the gaps in the metal stairs.
Owen is at the bottom of the first flight, trying to push past a group of teenage guys who are taking up the entire width of the staircase. His hair is messy from being in a cap all day and his face is flushed red.
“Bro, wait your turn,” one of the kids says, deliberately blocking the narrow passage.
“My girlfriend’s already up there, man. I just need to—”
“Yeah, sure she is.” Another kid laughs, and doesn’t budge an inch. “Everyone’s got a girlfriend up there.”
The couple directly behind us clear their throat and gesture at the empty gap ahead of us.
I watch Owen’s face go from polite to frustrated until Knox tugs my hand. “Come on.”
“Knox—”
“Thorne.” He starts filling in the gap in front of us, pulling me with him. “He’s fine. You made your choice.”
He’s right. I did.
“And we can’t hold up the line.”
I sigh and follow him. A few steps up I see Owen through the grate, pushing his way through more people. He scans the line of riders, until they land on me. On us.
His eyes widen and his mouth falls slightly open. “Sawyer?”
My stomach twists.
“Sawyer!” he calls, louder now. “Wait! What are you doing?”
Knox doesn’t slow down. Neither do I.
We reach the top of the stairs and step onto the platform. The attendant gestures us forward into the line.
“Next group!” he calls out.
There are maybe ten people ahead of us. Probably one train’s worth. Below us, I hear Owen shoving past one of the teenagers. “Move. I said move!” His footsteps clang on the metal stairs, faster now. He’s taking them two at a time.
“Sawyer!” His voice cracks. “Just wait two minutes! I’m coming!”
Knox’s hand is still wrapped around mine, warm and comforting, as we shuffle forward in line.
The train ahead of us is loading, people climb into rows, lap bars come down with heavy clicks.
Through the metal grating of the platform, I glance down to see Owen climbing frantically.
He’s close now, stumbling on a step, catching himself on the railing.
“Ma’am, sir, you’re next,” the attendant says, gesturing us forward.
My heart is hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat.
Owen bursts onto the platform, his chest heaving, his hair a mess from running. He spots us immediately and his face…God, his face breaks something inside me.
“Sawyer! What the hell? I said to wait!” He rushes toward us, but an attendant steps in front of him.
“Sir, are you with this group?”
“Yes—she’s my girlfriend—we’re supposed to be together—”
The attendant shakes his head, but lets Owen through. “Row three,” he says to Knox and me, then points Owen toward the back. “You’re in row five, sir.”
“No, I need to be with—”
“Row five. Let’s go, we’re on a schedule.”
Owen gets into his place, the couple behind us blocking most of my view of him. “Sawyer, what the hell is going on? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
I don’t know what to say. When I try to answer, nothing comes out.
“It’s not a big deal, okay?” Knox cuts in, resting his hand on my lower back. “She’s riding it with me. Relax.”
Owen’s jaw tightens and he glances at Knox’s hand. “Yeah. Okay.”
He sounds hurt, but there’s no time to digest it. We’re moved along into our assigned row number lines and before I can fully breathe, our train pulls up and the group that just rode exits on the other side, some laughing, some looking nauseated.
I climb into row three on shaky legs. Knox slides in beside me, his thigh pressing against mine in the confined space. The seat is smaller than I expected, and the restraints are more intimidating up close.
Behind us, I hear Owen climbing into his row. He’s sitting next to a random man, who’s also riding alone.
Knox adjusts the restraint over my chest and I press it tighter, giving my hands something to do.
Then I glance back and wish I didn’t.
Owen is two rows behind us, adjusting his own restraint. He’s staring forward, his face blank.
Our eyes meet for a split second. Neither of us says anything. What is there to say?
I turn back as the attendant comes by to tug on our restraints, giving a silent thumbs up.
Knox takes my hand and threads his fingers through mine. “You okay?”
I’m the furthest thing from okay. “I don’t know.”
Behind us, I can hear the operator asking Owen if he’s all set, and Owen’s quiet, “I’m good,” in response.
He’s not good. Neither of us are. What is wrong with me?
“All riders, keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times,” the automated announcement booms overhead. “Enjoy your ride on Velocity.”
The train juts forward, and my gut churns even though we haven’t moved more than a few feet.
We roll out of the loading area slowly, but the motorized sounds of the ride get louder, competing with my pulse roaring in my ears.
Within seconds, we’ve cleared the covered area and I’m blinded by the early evening sun hitting my face as we turn toward the lift hill.
I can feel Owen watching my back like a physical force. All alone and probably wondering what the hell is going on with me.
The chain engages with a grating clank that reverberates through the entire train.
Click. Click. Click.
We start the climb.
The nose of the train tilts up higher and higher. Suddenly, the ground below looks miles away.
Click. Click. Click.
My hand tightens around Knox’s involuntarily. He squeezes back and it provides a small amount of comfort.
“Still scared?” he asks.
“Terrified,” I admit for the first time today as I watch the park spread out below us. Everything getting smaller…the people, the other rides…the ring toss game where I told Owen I loved him not long ago.
Click. Click. Click.
We’re so goddamn high now. Higher than I thought we’d be. I can see the lake, and parking lot, and the highway beyond it.
I wonder what Owen’s thinking about. Is he scared too? Of the ride, or of other…more important things. I remember the ring, the proposal, and my stomach lurches again.
Click. Click. Click.
“Sawyer,” Knox says, and there’s something different about his tone…something that tears my gaze away from the scenery below.
His eyes are already on me, not the view, not the drop we’re climbing toward. Just me.
“Whatever happens with Owen,” he says quietly, “I need you to know—”
The train crests the peak.
For one perfect, breathtaking moment, we’re suspended at the top of the world. I can see everything. Feel everything. Knox’s hand in mine. The sun on my face. The wind whipping my hair. Owen two rows back in my peripheral vision.
It’s exhilarating.
“Know what?” I ask, having to raise my voice over the breeze whipping around us.
Knox opens his mouth to answer.
And then we drop.