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“Is it supposed to stop like this?” Kris hadn’t been on a Ferris wheel in forever. She didn’t like amusement parks, but the experience had been tolerable so far.
“No.” Nate peered over the edge. “Seems like we’re stuck.”
“What?”
“They’ll fix it soon,” he assured her. “Don’t worry.”
A few seconds later, they heard an announcement confirming that they were indeed stuck because of a mechanical issue and that engineers were working on getting them down as soon as possible.
Kris’s heart pounded against her chest. “If I die in a fucking Ferris wheel, I’m going to haunt you for eternity.”
Nate looked unfazed. “I didn’t force you to get on.”
“Technicalities.”
“Are you scared of heights?”
“No.” But that didn’t mean she enjoyed getting stuck in a giant metal contraption eighty-five feet above the ground.
“We might be stuck for a while,” Nate mused. “Could be hours.”
Hours?
Kris groaned. Sheknewshe should’ve said no when Skylar asked her for a girls’ night at the pier. This was what she got for trying to be nice.
“Why do you sound so unconcerned?”
Something squeaked, and Kris forced herself not to jump at the sound. She’d meant what she said about haunting him—and everyone who had anything to do with this Ferris wheel—if she died here.
Vengeance would make the afterlife so much more interesting.
“There’s nothing we can do about it.” Nate shrugged. “At least we’re not in a life-or-death situation. We just have to wait it out. In the meantime, there’s a beautiful view, beautiful girl…”
Kris snorted. By now, she knew how he operated. Nate was flirty and charming by nature, so his words didn’t mean anything. At all.
They fell into a comfortable silence, during which she stared out at the admittedly beautiful view while Nate leaned back and closed his eyes like he was taking a nap.
After ten minutes of no sound other than the waves, wind, and distant laughter of people on the ground, Nate spoke up. “You’re not really going to go out with Elijah, are you?”
His eyes remained closed, but his body was tense and coiled, like a cobra waiting to strike. He resembled a beautiful statue in repose.
“Who?”
He made an impatient sound. “Blue Hair.”
Right. Blue Hair’s real name was Elijah. Nate had said so at the cafe—and Elijah had told her too, probably. Kris hadn’t paid much attention. She only gave him her number because he’d mentioned he played in a band, and she’d promised Susan she would help look for entertainment options for MentHer’s summer gala. They had a limited budget, but Elijah said he’d check with the band and let her know if they were up for a charity gig. If so, Kris would have to screen them first and make sure they weren’t totally shittastic before she booked them.
“Because you’re supposed to be dating me,” Nate continued. “Don’t want to mess things up with the Gloria Plan until it’s finished.”
“I thought you were worried about me hurting your friend.”
You’re not the type of girl who would ever let your guard down enough to get hurt.
It hadn’t been an insult, per se, and Kris shouldn’t have gotten as worked up as she had, but Nate’s words had hit a little too close to home. Her last boyfriend had been Colin, whom she’d dated for a few months her freshman year of college. She’d met him at a charity event, and they’d hit it off. He was a few years older than her, but she’d liked how mature he was compared to the frat bros on campus.
Colin had been nice. Cute. Successful. But Kris had never let him into her private thoughts and life, and when he’d pushed her on it—always wanting to know more than she was willing to reveal—she’d broken things off.
Displaying vulnerability was not her thing. Yet sometimes, she wished it was. It’d be nice to talk to someone about the fears and insecurities that plagued her in the middle of the night. Not a therapist, but someone who actually cared about her and who could relate to how she felt.
