I’ve had many crushes in my life. There’s the Finch brothers in Goldheart, all too good-looking for their own good. There was Jeremy Tanner in middle school who I never talked to and just crushed on from afar. I’ve had crushes on dates that went nowhere.
None of them looked like Henry. None of them made me laugh like Henry.
I rip my hand away from Henry’s, and we both settle our hands on our handlebars. Declaring we were friends cut off all our banter, and I can’t think of a good topic to start it up again.
Do I tell him I’m interested?
No, too forward.
Is he even interested? Sneaking glances at Henry, I notice he looks ahead with a blank expression. I’m not sure how he feels now that we declared ourselves as friends, when he called me pretty earlier.
I’m losing my mind, sitting here. Have I been way too shallow this whole time? Were a million Henrys under my nose, and I never noticed?
Henry is not my usual type at all. He’s a coder, successful, goofy, caring, but also gets motion-sickness and refuses to stand up to teenagers. I never thought I’d date a man who had red hair, but here we are.
My thought spiral is interrupted by an aggravated scream.
“What was that?” Henry asks. We both lift our butts off the seats to try to see.
“This is all your fucking fault, Josh. I told you we should’ve gone on the Ferris Wheel instead.”
Ooooooh, drama.
“I asked you if this was okay! You could’ve said no!”
“Josh, we’ve been dating for five years. You should know by now that I hate roller coasters. Detest them.”
Henry leans in. “I’ve been dating you for five seconds, and I know you don’t like them.” My chest swells. He’s dating me.
Stop it, Raegan. He just said you were friends. Plus, you’re leaving. He doesn’t do long-distance.
“This is the first time I’m hearing about this, Diana. You have literally never told me you hate roller coasters.”
“Well, I also don’t really orgasm. How do you like that, Josh? All of our new friends on the Double Helix here know now. Josh does not give me ORGASMS!”
The whole train gasps.
Henry and I turn towards each other. “I’m one hundred percent invested in this,” I say.
“Same,” Henry says. “I feel like a big bombshell is coming.”
“A bigger one than him not giving her orgasms?”
“What about all that moaning last night? You screamed my name so loud the cops got called. They handcuffed me, Diana.”
“Yeah, well, you got out, didn’t you?” Diana asks. “You weren’t even booked.”
“Since I asked to speak to my attorney.”
Henry turns to me. “Smart. That’s how people get in trouble in the true crime shows. I’m always like, ‘ask for your attorney, idiot.’”
“Yes!” I say. “You like true crime shows?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I find them soothing.”
“Me too.” Another point for Henry.
Diana and Josh are back to fighting so we listen in.
“I knew I should’ve hooked up with Wyatt when I had a chance. Now we’re stranded on this fucking roller coaster because you wanted to feel the wind on your face.”
“Who’s Wyatt?” I ask Henry.
“I think we’ll find out soon,” Henry whispers.
“Wyatt?” Josh asks. “My best friend, Wyatt? When did you almost hook up?”
“It’s his best friend,” Henry scream-whispers.
“I got it,” I say with a wink. Henry’s lips straighten, and our eyes lock. He looks down and then back up, and my chest flutters.
Our first moment.
Maybe we can be more than friends. I could drive back to San Francisco and…
No, Raegan. Just because a guy is nice to you doesn’t mean he’s willing to drive a hundred miles every weekend one way to see you.
I shift in my seat.
“Candice’s bonfire. Wyatt and I had the best time. He danced with me, which you never do.”
“I love dancing,” Henry tells me. “Even though I’m terrible at it. Lots of flailing arms, lots of tongue past my lips, but you can’t drag me off the dance floor. Once I get started. Electric slide, cha-cha slide, give me all the slides.”
“You’re a much better man than Josh,” I say.
“Eons, lightyears ahead of Josh.”
I’ve been Diana at weddings, bringing a guy like Josh who sits in the corner on his phone who refuse to dance with me. It makes no sense to me why men turn down dancing. Seventy-five percent of my dancing technique is pressing my ass against a man’s frontside and shimmying. You can usually see right down my dress and most of my favorite ones require me to go braless.
Our new friend Josh has had enough.
“I can’t believe you, Diana,” Josh says.
“Well, I’ve been unhappy with you for a long time. When was the last time you went down on me, Josh? When?”
“Oh, Josh,” Henry says. “You’ve got to keep the tongue game strong, my friend.”
An ache manifests between my legs at Henry’s comment. I’ve had sex semi-recently, but it included fumbling of clothes with no warm-up time before a dick was inside of me. Henry would take his time, be thorough—I can just tell.
I’m officially curious.
“Diana, I’ve told you. I hate the way it tastes.”
“And cum tastes like a milkshake? Kelis lied to us!”
Preach, Diana, preach.
I also gasp, because I saw at least three children walk onto the roller coaster. While this is hilarious, I don’t need it on my conscience that I didn’t say something to a couple having a wildly inappropriate personal conversation. I open my mouth to say something, but Henry beats me to it.
“Okay, that’s enough, this is getting annoying,” Henry says just to me. He raises his voice. “Hey, how about you keep that to yourself, okay? There’s kids on the ride.”
“Who said that? Mind your own fucking business.”
“It’s hard for me to mind my business when you and your girlfriend are airing your dirty laundry, my friend.”
“Fuck you, dude.”
“Fuck you…harder. Unlike your girlfriend,” Henry says. He lowers his voice, and it’s only meant for me. “Oh, that didn’t come out right. And I’m no better than Josh.”
“Maybe I should be with a man like that, Josh,” Diana says.
No, maybe I should be with a man like that, Diana.
Josh makes a sound, and Diana lowers her voice, still arguing, but quiet enough that we cannot hear.
My mouth agape, I turn to him.
“What?” he asks.
“You stood up to a guy who sounds like he could kick your ass.”
“They were getting out of line.”
“What about the middle schoolers?”
“Totally different thing. The kids were just being kids,” Henry says. “Plus, I’ve been deathly afraid of middle schoolers since I was in middle school. Josh and Diana are just idiots. I let the f-word slip, so not my finest moment, but…it had to be said.”
There’s fire in those pupils. I bite my lip as I study his jawline. It’s very nice.
“Oh my God, someone’s coming,” Henry says. I look down to see a portly man in a blue jumpsuit walking up the stairs adjacent to the track. He passes us, holding onto the railing for dear life with a bullhorn in his dangling hand. When he reaches halfway between the seats, he puts the bullhorn to his lips.
“We appreciate your patience, ladies and gentlemen. We will begin the evacuation shortly. I’m just waiting for some of my colleagues to join me.”
“Evacuation?” I ask, alarmed. Looking down, I see the flimsiest stairs, with slats that I could easily trip going down, and I swear the banister is held together by spit and duct tape.
Henry and I look at each other with long, terrified faces. I’m not sure what’s more terrifying—the ride itself or evacuating off the ride.
“I completely forgot we’re a million stories in the air,” Henry says. “They’re going to undo my harness, and I’m going to be asked to stand up and walk down those stairs. Look at me. Do l look like a man who is coordinated when he’s nervous?”
“I’ll catch you if you fall.” I look over the edge again and shake my head. “Wait, no, I won’t. Sorry, Henry, you may be on your own. I’ll be amazed if I don’t hyperventilate.”
“You and me both,” Henry says. “I psyched myself up for a date, not a death-defying stunt of walking down stairs.”
“We’re a mess.”
“A hot mess,” he agrees.
“Why did we agree to this?”
“Because we’re pushovers, that’s why,” Henry says. “You know what we need to do if ever we get off this ride?”
“What?”
“We have to ditch Landon and Erin. Before we’re convinced to go on another ride that breaks down that we didn’t want to go on in the first place.”
“Yeah?”
“Full-on stuff our faces with cotton candy and beer and sit on a park bench and people-watch. You can’t get stuck on rides if you don’t go on them.”
“You want to keep hanging out with me? The crying didn’t scare you off?” I ask. “I straight-up sobbed.”
“I grew up with three sisters. I’m used to emotions,” Henry says. “Your crying episode does not even register on the top five cries I’ve witnessed. You look really pretty when you cry. Ugh, I didn’t mean it that way…uh…”
My heart pitter-patters. “I always thought I ugly-cried.”
“No, no, no,” Henry says. “Your eyes get red around the center, but it makes them look really green. Like emeralds.”
That could be a cheesy line coming from any of the several app-trolling douchebags I’ve gone on a date with in the past few months. From Henry, it makes my insides melt like hot fudge.
Without warning, Henry grabs my hand, and I look down at it. Hot fireworks shoot up my arm, and I smile at him. His face breaks, and he’s smiling too.
Maybe he wants to be more than friends.
I’m not sure if I should say it. If proclaiming it out loud would jinx it or make it untrue.
What the hell.
“If we make it off of this ride, I’m going to lay one on you.”
“Lay a punch?”
“No,” I say with a giggle.
“Lay a lei?” Henry asks.
I shake my head again.
“Lay a…kiss?” Henry asks. His lips curl up in a boyish smirk, and the butterflies have arrived. They were a little delayed, but now, they’re flapping and dive-bombing in my stomach and I can’t stop smiling.
“Yes. A big, fat juicy one. If you’re okay with it, of course.”
“I should’ve remembered my Binaca,” he says, and I laugh, imaging him pausing me so he could spray some breath freshener in his mouth.
“You didn’t expect I would want to kiss you?”
“No,” Henry says. “You’re way too pretty. I thought there was no way.”
“I think you’re pretty cute,” I say. When I start involuntarily flirting, it’s definitely a good sign.
“Please,” he says. “I know what I am. I’m a six at best if I was broke. App money bumps me up to about a seven and a half.”
“Stop,” I say, laughing. The self-deprecating humor is killing me. All this time, I focused on how a guy looked in a suit or what kind of car he drove. Who knew a guy wearing black socks and white tennis shoes would work for me? A guy who hates heights as much as I do, who gets as nauseous and nervous on roller coasters as I do. A guy who likes to dance, just because.
I was so busy focusing on a guy’s look, that I didn’t ever wonder about their heart.
“Do you want to kiss me?” I ask.
Henry let out a phew sound from his mouth. “Of course.”
“Good,” I say. Henry squeezes my hand three times, and I pause. That was something my dad does whenever I’m nervous or worried about something.
I asked my dad why he did it once and he said, “It’s my way of telling you everything is going to be alright.” Every time I was nervous before a swim meet or a dance recital, he used to take my hand and squeeze it, and I instantly felt better.
Henry squeezing my hand reminds me of home.
Reminds me that everything is going to be alright.
And the swirl of nervousness in my belly reminds me that I cannot wait to grab his face and kiss him when we get off this train of doom.