When the gondola descends for the last time and slows near the platform, the attendant unlatches the door with a metallic click.
“See?” Baptiste says, stepping out first and offering me a hand. “Zero fatalities.”
I take it before I can overthink the gesture. His fingers close around mine—warm, steady—and for half a second, I forget to let go.
“Don’t get cocky,” I say, finally remembering to pull my hand back. “We’re not on the ground yet.”
He chuckles as we descend the aluminum steps, until our feet hit solid pavement. He stomps on the ground for good measure. “Voilà.”
I just shake my head, though a smile is tugging at my lips.
“So, how was it?” Caleb asks as we rejoin the group.
I release a dramatic sigh. “I survived.”
James bursts out laughing. “Wow, Froggy. You take your date on a romantic ride, and all she has to say is that she’s lucky to be alive? That’s some game you’ve got there.”
“Yeah,” Maxime says. “The whole ‘being single’ thing makes so much sense now.”
“She’s not my date,” Baptiste corrects them, shaking his head.
I snort. “Definitely not. We're not even friends.”
A collective “Ohhh” ripples through the group.
“Nope. Not even close,” Baptiste adds, flashing me a teasing smile.
“Okay. Why are you here with us, then?” James prods, his blue eyes set on me. “Are you crashing?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Baptiste invited me. Besides, it's a public festival—and a free country.”
“Yeah, you tell him, girl,” Marissa says with a firm nod.
“Hmm. Not buying it,” Aaron mumbles. “Why would you say yes if you’re not friends or dating?”
I just shrug. “I had nothing better to do.”
“Suuure,” James says, giving me an obvious wink that makes everyone laugh. “Let’s go with that.”
“Ignore them,” Baptiste says as we start walking away. “Now that they’re all married or engaged, they don’t understand single people.”
The others keep badgering us for a while, but it’s good-natured. I don’t really mind, honestly. It’s a nice night, and hanging out with Baptiste and his friends isn’t a bad way to spend it. I just wish I could get some ice cream—I’ve been craving it for a few days now.
We stumble on yet another ice cream parlor, but it’s just as packed as the last two we came across.
“Forget hockey,” Beth says. “We should just open a couple of ice cream shops and only work this festival. We’d be billionaires,” she jokes.
“The schedule would be less hectic,” Aria agrees.
“Seriously, though,” Maxime mutters. “This is wild. At least an hour wait too.”
I sigh. “Shoot. Looks like my ice cream dreams will go unfulfilled.”
“I can wait with you, if you want one,” Baptiste offers, and butterflies make their way to my stomach, fluttering like maniacs. If only I had some ice cream, I’d freeze them out in minutes.
“No, it’s okay. I don’t want to ruin your night by staying in line—or mine, for that matter. Thanks, though.”
“What should we do, then?” Hayley asks. “Now that our quest for ice cream has come to an end.”
