Page 89 of Midnight Ink

“The sticky notes?” Ian says.

I smile. “Yeah. Schedules fall apart. I can plan my day as much as I want, but I can’t force my brain to do things it doesn’t want to do. It just ends with me being unproductive. It’s like my brain freezes and I can’t think. If I have tasks to do, I put them on a sticky note and stick them to my mirror at work. I accomplish them when I can. Pulling the notes down when I do them feels like a little reward. If I can’t do something, I don’t beat myself up over it anymore.”

A scream rips through the air. A kid barrels between us, forcing our hands apart. Ian laughs, looking up at the darkening sky. Something soft settles over his expression. On impulse I lace my fingers back with his. I don’t want to let them go.

A booth worker shouts at us, trying to lure us into a game. “Bet I could win you one,” I tease.

“I don’t want a stuffed animal that costs less than the admission fee,” Ian says. “Save your money.” He breaks our fingers but then wraps his arm through mine, hugging it. Casual and devastating. His lips brush my shoulder, and the small contact sends a thrill up my spine.

To anyone watching we probably look like a couple. Easy and natural. They can’t see the chaos grinding in my chest. “Oh yes.” Ian tugs me to a booth. “We are absolutely doing this.”

“The shitty stuffed animals are a no, but an airbrushed T-shirt is a yes?” Ian laughs at this.

“I always wanted one of these when I was younger.” Ian smiles, stepping forward. “I want your name on it.” The employee looks at us then Ian orders first. “I’d like mine to say Jules.” He glances back at me. “With a crown on the J.”

My mind blanks as they both wait for me. “Uh, anything is fine. With the name Ian.”

While we wait, Ian’s arms slide around my waist. “You’ve gone quiet,” he murmurs. “What’s going on?”

Everything.

Every feeling I’ve choked down for years is bubbling to the surface. This week has blurred lines I was never supposed to cross. I’m terrified of what happens when we leave.

I want to tell him I love him. That I’ve loved him for a long time. That he’s not just my best friend, he’s the person I imagine my life around.

I’m afraid of how heavy this truth would land on him, though. Just when he’s starting to find himself again. What if it destroys all this progress? It would all be for nothing. What if I tell him I love him and he freezes, or tells me he can’t do that with me? Not now, or ever. What then? Do I just go on like we didn’t spend the best two weeks of my life together? There are too many what-ifs, and not one what-if contains an ounce of confidence. Not one of these voices says, what if he does love me back? “What’s going on, Jules?” he murmurs.

I swallow down these thoughts and tuck them away for later. We’re having fun and I don’t want to ruin it. “I’m just thinking about how happy I am. Happy to be here with you,” I answer. It’s not a lie, just not the complete truth.

Ian studies me, then sneaks a quick kiss. “I’m happy I’m here with you too,” he whispers then presses a firmer kiss to the corner of my mouth. “There’s no one else I’d rather be here with.”

What is this, Ian?

“Here you go.” The man hands us both our folded shirts and Ian opens his, smiling. His is baby blue and black with the gold crown sparkling above my name. He hands me mine and I see Ian’s name in red and black with hearts framing it. Ian tugs his on and I follow, the sharp smell of paint stinging my nose.

He takes my hand and leads me forward for a few minutes while we take in everything and all the chaos. Ian stops suddenly, looking up at the looming Ferris wheel. “No,” I say instantly.

Ian grins. “If there were ever a moment to conquer your fears.”

“That isn’t conquering a fear, Ian, it’s insanity.” I don’t trust carnival rides as it is. The idea that all this shit was built overnight doesn’t sit right with me. This thing is tall as fuck, and Ian is apparently insane.

“It could be fun.”

“It could also be traumatic.” With the way he’s looking at me, I already know I’m going to cave. “I hate you.”

He laughs, pulling me toward the operator. I must black out because next thing I know the safety bar is being slammed down with a final clank. The boardwalk shrinks as the wheel lifts. It gets to a certain height and I can’t watch anymore. Our cart sways, making my stomach swoop, and I stare straight ahead, refusing to look down.

“I’ve got you.” He grips my hand. “Look.” The ocean stretches to our right. Smooth like glass, reflecting the moon in the water below.

“How the fuck do they even put this thing together?”

His thumb smooths over my knuckles.

I look at him. Really look at him.

Loving him is more terrifying than the height. If he doesn’t feel the same, and this is all temporary vacation fun, I don’t think I’ll survive the fallout.

Near the top, the car lurches to a stop, and Ian’s hand slides onto my thigh, grounding me. Warm and solid. “You can’t tell Anna about this,” I manage. “She’ll use it as ammunition.”