Page 61 of Only After We Met

Mist was blowing from his lips, mingling with the mist from my own. He stepped toward me and gave me his hand. I accepted it, not quite knowing what I was doing. He walked on, across the bridge, toward the Ferris wheel further off. I memorized him, his long steps, the oval shape of his nails, which I ran my fingertips over, his height, his square shoulders…

Then I realized something.

“Are we going where I think we’re going?”

“Didn’t you want to go up in that damned Ferris wheel?”

“Didn’t you say it gave you vertigo?”

“Yeah, but no one calls me a coward.”

He had a curious look on his face. I laughed. The trees around us were decorated with white and blue Christmas lights. Rhys seemed nervous as we waited in line. The cold was intense that night, and there were fewer people than usual. I looked up in the sky as the first snowflakes fell, small and ephemeral, vanishing once they’d touched the ground.

He didn’t let me go as we got into one of the compartments along with two other couples, all four of them tourists. Rhys kept one hand on the railing and his eyes focused on the glass until we reached the top. Then he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.

“You’re missing everything, Rhys!”

“I fucking hate heights,” he grunted.

“Come on, do it for me. Just for a second.”

He took a deep breath and blinked. He saw the river twinkling beneath us, the glimmering lights, the starless sky.

“Shit.” He looked down.

“Why’d you come up here?”

“For real, Ginger?” His eyes were daggers, and I giggled, which did nothing to improve the situation. Fortunately the tourists were on the other side of the capsule. “I just can’t take the way it keeps turning. Distract me. Tell me something.”

He turned to me, still gripping the railing, his chest rising and falling as he panted, his eyes staring into me and trying to ignore everything around him.

“When I was little, I used to have silkworms…”

“That’s not working. I need out.”

“Rhys, relax.” I grabbed his hand.

“Fuck. Do you not get vertigo?”

“I do,” I whispered.

“Really?” He took a deep breath.

“There are many different types of vertigo.”

That got his attention. “What kind are you talking about?”

“There’s kind that makes you shiver right before you do something crazy.”

“Ginger…”

I didn’t let him say anything else.

I stood on my tiptoes. And I kissed him.

I felt his lips against mine.

His hands creeping down my waist.