Page 92 of Denial
She lays her palm across her forehead. “I need my meter. I need to manually check and see. This isn’t good, Sutton.”
“We’re only going to be on here a few more minutes. We can get you some sugar.”
“You don’t understand. This device”—she taps her nail over her CGM on her thigh—“measures differently than a blood glucose. It runs about fifteen minutes behind. If it’s telling me I’m a double down low, then I need some glucose fast.”
“Do you feel bad?”
She wipes the palms of her hands off on her hips. “I-I thought it was the ride. I don’t know, I definitely don’t feel good. I don’t usually get anxious, but if we’re stuck, that could be really bad.”
Fuck.
I quickly dial my brother on the ground.
“Are you calling from the top of the Ferris wheel?”
“I need you to tell the operator to let us off.”
“What’s going on?”
“Alice’s blood sugar is low.”
“Fuck,” he mutters. “We ran over to the bathrooms. I’ll hurry Nellie up and get over there as soon as I can.”
My heart trips over itself in my chest as I end the call.
Before I can offer any reassurance, Alice interrupts, her voice trembling. “I’m freaking out.” She fans her face. “I need a distraction.”
Catching her frantic hands, I turn her toward me. We shift as much as possible on the narrow two-seater bench, swaying high above the ground. Below, life keeps moving, but up here, our world feels suspended.
“Take a deep breath,” I urge.
She shakes her head, her expression tense.
I place her palm flat on my chest and cover it with my own hand. “Breathe with me, Alice.”
Her shoulders rise and fall with a deep inhale, but she shakes her head again. “It’s not helping.”
“I saw this article once that said staring into someone’s eyes for four minutes can make you fall in love.” I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “If you want to give that a try.”
The comment has the intended effect. Alice snorts, her breathing becoming a bit steadier.
“That’ll never work.”
I grin and press further. “Why? Scared you might fall in love with me, Firecracker?”
She tucks her chin to her chest and rolls her eyes, her tongue flicking across her bottom lip. “Not a bit.”
I meet her gaze, settling my blue eyes on her whiskey-brown ones. “I’m doing it. You’re going to have to look away first,” I challenge, a smile tugging at my lips.
“You’re insane,” she complains, but she doesn’t look away.
Beneath us, the Ferris wheel sways, pitching us around another rotation before stopping again three-quarters around.
“Okay, see? It moved again. We’re on the other side. A few more turns and we’ll be off this thing.”
“I don’t think you’re meant to talk through this experiment.”
My thumb brushes across the back of her hand. It’s only then that I realize I’m still holding her palm against my chest. The steady rhythm of my heartbeat thuds beneath her touch.
