Page 56 of Getting Over You

“What do you want to do next?” she asks.

“You tell me, princess.”

She takes a moment to glare at me, then contemplates. “Ferris wheel?”

“Is that what you want to do?” She nods. I swallow. “Fine. Then let’s do it.”

Gigi grins. “Really?”

“Take me there,” I tell her, sweat starting at the base of my skull, “before I change my mind.”

Being close to Gigi in the cart of a Ferris wheel makes me nervous, sure. But her happiness supersedes my nerves. She’s fidgeting in her seat as we wait for the other riders to load on, her feet kicking. She’s like a little kid.

And it’scute.

“Have you ridden a Ferris wheel before?” Gigi asks. She looks around as our cart raises a few more feet in the air.

I shake my head. My legs are starting to wobble. I clench my hands into fists in my lap.

“You’re scared of heights,” Gigi realizes as our cart rises again, higher this time, and we near the top of the wheel. “Cade. Oh, my god. You should have said s—”

“Shut up, Gigi,” I mutter through clenched teeth. “Please.”

“Cade.”

“Gigi, if you don’t stop saying my name—”

“You are scared of heights,” she hisses, “and we’re on a fucking Ferris wheel, Cade.”

“At least it’s not something worse. I’ll be alright.” I clench my eyes shut tight, then open them again right as we rise. Our cart starts to wobble more fiercely as we near the top of the wheel. My muscles tense, my jaw flexes.

“Cade,” Gigi whispers. She reaches for my hand. “Open your eyes.”

“We’re at the top,” I hiss. Her hand is soft against mine, thin and dainty. She squeezes.

“Please. It’s beautiful. I’d hate for you to miss it.” I sigh, my leg shaking. “The cart is going to move again and then you’ll miss it. Please?” She squeezes my hand again.

I open my eyes and damned if she’s not right. So many feet in the air, we can see all of Geddington Beach—the expanse of the Atlantic, fading into the dark and starry sky, the lights from the downtown district, a small spec in the big world surrounding it. The carnival happening beneath us, all those people looking as small as ants from up here, the stations and booths looking like dollhouse furniture.

“Holy shit,” I whisper to myself.

“See?” Gigi squeezes my hand for a third time. “I told you.”

She’s watching me, the weight of her eyes dancing over my face, sparkling with joy.

I turn to look at her, tearing my eyes away from the view.

The view of her, I decide then, is much better. I lean in, cupping the back of her neck with my hands. She tips her chin up, those eyes searching mine. She’s so curious about me, about all these dark parts.

Lord knows why.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up,” I mutter against those perfect lips. “Let me kiss you.”

It’s sweet and succinct, like I’d imagine a first date kiss should be.

The cart starts to move again as Gigi and I separate, wobbling its way around the circle.

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