Page 83 of Don't Think

He spins around, pointing to the four-hundred-foot metal death trap.

I’m going to die today, aren’t I?

I jog to catch up, tossing a wave over my shoulder to get Casey moving too.

Ana and Nora are ahead, tugging on Allie’s arm while they pull her into the queue. On the outside, she’s laughing, but even from ten feet away, I can see that look in her eyes.

Fear. Pure and utter fear.

I walk a little faster.

“No, seriously. You guys go ahead,” Allie says, trying to wave them off, but they’re just not having it.

“What are you going to do, Allie? Sit on the bench by yourself?” Nora asks, tilting her head.

Allie shrugs. “I brought a book. You guys know I don’t really like roller coasters.”

“I can sit with her,” I offer and everyone’s eyes flick to me, skeptical eyebrows raised.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Allie says, but her eyes say otherwise.

I shrug easily. “Honestly? That thing scares the shit out of me,” I say with a chuckle.

“Alright, so it’s settled.” Ana claps her hands together. “Jax and Allie are going to sit on the bench while the rest of us have fun.”

“Fuck yeah!” James shouts, pumping his fist in the air.

When everyone starts barreling inside, I lead Allie to an empty bench, right in front of the perfect view of the mile-high drop.

“Not a fan of screaming metal death traps, huh?” I tease.

She shakes her head. “I don’t like the way it makes my anxiety skyrocket and my stomach drop. All while being barely buckled into a seat going ninety miles an hour,” she admits, laughing awkwardly.

I nod. “Fair point.”

She slides down the bench until her thigh is pressed against mine, and my whole body heats. Just feeling her beside me lately has been exactly what I need to stay grounded.

“Did you get to talk to the girls yesterday?” I ask, turning to face her.

Her face drops slightly before she shakes her head. “Nope. I called and texted, but Trevor said they were napping. Told me I could try again tonight,” she says, but there’s something in her voice that doesn’t sit right with me.

“I’m sorry,” I say genuinely.

“Don’t be.” She flashes me a quick smile, but it’s not quite enough to convince me. “It’s not your fault. I just wish he’d take the time to text or call me so I’m not always playing phone tag at the worst times.”

“I’d think that’d be a lot easier on the both of you.”

She nods. “I’m sorry I’m complaining. It just feels like he’s trying to pull something at this point.”

My eyebrows knit together. “Is that something he would do?”

“I wouldn’t think so,” she says with a shrug. “I mean, he barely saw them for two years and just barely got his own place. It’s just… weird.”

I place my hand on her back, rubbing gentle circles. “I’m sorry.”

She leans her head on my shoulder. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

We sit like that for a few minutes, her head on my shoulder, my hand still resting on her back like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And I love every second of it.