Page 8

Wyatt leans a little closer. "What can I do?"

My throat tightens.

Nothing.

Everything.

"I'm okay," I whisper.

"I don't think you are." His voice is impossibly calm. "Talk to me."

Tears prick behind my eyes as one thought keeps pushing itself to the front of my mind.

The thought hurts more than I care to admit.

It's embarrassing and ridiculous, and Wyatt is the last person I should be telling. I've spent all this time trying to seem composed whenever he's around, and now, of all times, my brain decides this is the confession it wants to make.

I should keep my mouth shut.

Instead, something inside me wants him to know.

Maybe it's because fear has stripped away every layer of self-control I usually cling to. Maybe it's because he's looking at me with so much quiet concern that, for the first time all evening, I don't feel like I have to pretend.

"I..."

He waits without interrupting me, those stupid green eyes fixed on mine as if whatever I say next actually matters.

I swallow around the lump in my throat.

"I'm going to die up here..." My voice catches, and a shaky breath escapes me. "...without ever having been kissed."

Silence.

My eyes widen at my own admission, and heat explodes across my face.

Wow, I really said that out loud.

For a beat, Wyatt doesn't say anything.

Then he shifts a little closer, careful not to jostle the gondola.

"Hey." His voice is calm and steady. "Look at me."

I don't.

"Quinn."

Reluctantly, I lift my eyes to his.

"We're not going to die."

I let out a watery laugh that sounds more like a hiccup.

"This ride has probably gone around a thousand times today. It'll make it around one more. We're going to be back on solid ground in a couple of minutes, and when we are, I'll buy you the biggest funnel cake they've got."

Despite everything, the corner of my mouth twitches. "I don't even like funnel cake."

"Then I'll buy you something you do like."