Chapter 18 Ethan
Ethan
“Do you want to start with the log ride or the rollercoaster?” Margot asks, beaming a wide smile up at me.
I haven't seen her look this excited about anything ever.
Well, maybe about one thing. But I can't let myself think about that kiss. Especially not with Margot standing right in front of me, looking at me like I just made her whole damn year by tagging along to this amusement park.
I glance up at the signpost over her head.
One arrow points towards Pikes Peak Plunge—presumably the log ride, judging by the sound of rushing water coming from that direction.
If the screams are any indication, it’s a big drop.
Another arrow points to the Summit Screamer, which also seems to be aptly named.
“Some people black out for a second or two on the rollercoaster.” She adds this tidbit of information as if she is a used car salesman pitching a bonus feature, like heated seats or a moon roof.
Scrubbing my hand over the stubble on my jaw, I weigh my options. “Um, maybe we could start with some games.”
Margot’s brows draw together but her smile doesn’t falter. “Oh, yeah… of course. Sometimes, I forget that other people aren’t as excited as I am to hop on a rollercoaster first thing in the morning.”
I will never be excited to get on a rollercoaster. The time of day is highly irrelevant.
By noon, I’ve won three stuffed animals and eaten more junk food than I care to admit. But if I thought that showering Margot with colorful plush toys and hot, fresh churros would detract from her desire to be flung halfway to space on a rickety old metal track, I was mistaken.
Tossing the last dart at the wall of balloons, I watch Margot’s gaze shift once again to the rollercoaster in the distance. The sound of the riders’ screams drowns out the quiet pop of a blue balloon.
“Frog or duck?” the teenage game attendant asks flatly between glances at his cell phone.
My eyes shift to Margot, whose stare is still firmly affixed to the towering ride in the distance.
When she fails to answer his question, I point to the small neon green frog in the attendant’s left hand then pass the toy to Margot.
Slowly dragging her attention back to me, she takes the frog with a soft “thanks” and adds it to the growing pile of stuffed animals in her purse.
Margot shifts her weight to her other foot and bites down on her lip. My stomach drops because I can see the question in her eyes before it even leaves her mouth.
“Do you want to go on the rollercoaster now?” After a beat of hesitation—mine, not hers—Margot adds, “Or we could do the log ride first.”
Right on cue, a chorus of blood-curdling shrieks rips through the air, followed by a loud splash in the distance. I cup the back of my neck with my hand, trying and failing to rub away the ball of tension at the base of my skull.
“Should we wait a bit?” I ask, looking anywhere but straight at Margot’s face, knowing I’ll only find disappointment there. “I mean, we did eat pretty recently, and there’s all that water…”
Right. Safety first. Dignity last.
Margot’s brow pinches together. Her short laugh is more confusion than amusement.
She glances in the direction of the rushing water then back at me.
“Well, there’s not really any swimming involved, so I don’t know if that rule really applies here.
” She studies my face for a second. “Is something wrong? I’m getting the distinct impression that you don’t really want to go on any of the rides. ”
Silence is my only response. I can’t give myself an internal pep talk and speak at the same time, apparently.
“If you want to start with something a little tamer, we could try the Ferris wheel,” Margot offers.
Another painfully long pause follows.
“I’m not really a big fan of Ferris wheels,” I tell her.
It’s the first bit of honesty I’ve offered.
Because just like rollercoasters, Ferris wheels tend to be quite tall.
Then there’s the part about the swinging bench seat, which I’m also not particularly fond of.
Is it too much to ask for a fully enclosed ride car if they insist on dangling people a hundred feet in the air?
“Ethan,” Margot says, a knowing look overtaking her features, “are you afraid of heights?”
“No,” I answer too quickly. “I just happen to have a healthy respect for physics, paired with a deep mistrust in anything held together by old bolts and blind optimism.”
“So, you are afraid of heights then?” Margot repeats, her smile widening.
“I’m glad my advanced situational awareness amuses you.”
“I’m not amused, just surprised. I thought the North brothers were famous for scaling mountains and leaping out of airplanes.”
“Garrett likes that stuff, but I’m strictly a fan of anything that keeps my feet at ground level—hiking, snowboarding, surfing…”
Margot rolls her lips together. The smile that reappears afterwards is more subdued and sympathetic.
I don’t need her sympathy though. If anything, I feel bad for all the people whose evolutionary response to such obvious threats to their mortality is less evolved than mine.
I mean, how many people die every year on these contraptions? Ones? Tens? Dozens?
Okay, probably only one or two, but still. At least I know I won’t be one of them.
Margot’s hand moves to my shoulder, gently resting there. The calming effect is instant. So is the realization that it shouldn’t be.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” she begins, “because I’m so grateful that you came with me today.
I was really bummed about missing out on my annual birthday tradition, but I didn’t think it would be much fun to come here alone.
But if your, um, advanced situational awareness prevents you from going on the rides, then why did you decide to come with me? ”
“Because I couldn’t stand the thought of you being disappointed or alone on your birthday. I wanted to make sure that today was special. You deserve the world on your birthday, Margot.”
The playful smile disappears from her face, and she’s staring up at me with a hint of moisture in the corners of her eyes.
Now more than ever, I want to wrap my arms around her and feel the way her body might fit against mine.
To taste the salt of her skin and the sweetness of her lips.
To see if our second kiss might be even better than our first. And judging by the way Margot is looking at me right now, all soft and sweet, I think she might allow it. Welcome it, even.
But we both agreed that there would be no second kiss, so I cut the tension with a joke, adding, “And if we’re being honest… because I didn’t think you would be a fan of the big thrill rides.”
Margot gives me a coy smile. “Well, I guess we both have a few secrets up our sleeves still.”
“I guess so.”
Another weighted silence stretches between us. The air tightens with an invisible pull that we both pretend not to feel. We both retreat slightly, shifting away and glancing in opposite directions.
After a few seconds, Margot clears her throat and says, “I don’t mind going on the rollercoaster by myself if you don’t mind waiting for me.”
I shake my head. “I can’t let you do that. My primal urge to protect you is currently at odds with my primal urge not to black out while being yeeted through the sky on a glorified death sled.”
“Did you just say ‘yeeted’?” Margot laughs.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“You’ll be fine,” she says, reaching for my hand and lacing her fingers in mine. With a gentle tug, Margot tilts her head towards the coaster and smiles, “Let’s go.”
One thing is clear: all of my sense and logic go straight out the window when she looks at me like that, because there’s nowhere I’d rather be than following her to my own demise right now.
***
We survive—barely.
I’m fairly certain a few of my internal organs were rearranged on that second loop, but overall, I’m okay.
Margot, on the other hand, is far better than okay.
She’s laughing like we just stepped off a carousel instead of a high-speed death trap.
Her dark hair is all windblown and her cheeks are flushed.
When she steps off the platform and turns back to smile at me, I realize it’s not just the ride that’s left me breathless… it’s her.
It’s something I’ve felt growing in me for a while now. Ever since we almost kissed… maybe even a bit longer, if I’m being honest. The spark that’s been missing when I’m with other women always seems alive and well when Margot is standing in front of me.
The only question is: what am I going to do about it?
Margot is my employee, my assistant, and most importantly, my friend.
I can’t afford to lose her on any of those fronts, and that’s exactly what will happen.
We have different goals in life. We want entirely different things.
She wants marriage, kids, all of that. I prefer to keep things simple and uncomplicated.
One-night stands and casual flings are all I have to offer.
With Margot’s hand still clutching mine, our eyes connect and I realize that at this very moment, we want the same thing. I can see it in the way she looks at me.
Who am I to deny the birthday girl what she wants?
I take a step closer, closing the gap between us and reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. My fingertips graze the sensitive spot just below her ear, and she sucks in a breath.
“Margot,” I say her name softly, drawing her eyes to mine. “I know we agreed that the last time was a mistake, but I have this crazy idea about kissing you again, and I was wondering how you feel about that.”
She tries and fails to suppress a smile. “Favorably.”