Page 105 of The Storm

I inhale appreciatively as we walk. We used to come here all the time when Dia and I were younger. The smell of the Atlantic mixed with sunscreen and deep-fried food will always remind me of summer.

“Rides first,” Bridget says. “We’ll start with the cool ones and then see if we have time for the boring stuff.”

I see the subtle glance Nick throws at the Looping Star.

“Deal,” I say. “Bumper cars?”

Bridge stares at me before she points to the rollercoaster behind us. “Or, you know, that?”

I follow her gesture, squinting up at the track amid the loud rattle of the cars and screams. I make a face. “Really? That thing? I vote bumper cars.”

Bridge crosses her arms over her chest. “Did we go back in time? Are we eight again?”

“Seriously, Go,” Dia says, already half-turned to head for the line that snakes into the entrance.

“It’ll be fun,” I say.

“Yeah.” Bridge stares at me some more. “You go and do your bumper car thing, then, while Dia and I make gravity our bitch.”

I shrug one shoulder. “Have fun.”

Bridge hooks her arm through Dia’s and drags her off, both of them laughing as they head toward the ride. I watch them go for a second.

Then I turn my head?—

And don’t get any further.

Suddenly there are hands cupping my face.

And Nick is kissing me.

My brain blanks and the world around me disappears. It’s just him and me. Nick’s mouth, Nick’s hands, the faint taste of something sweet on his tongue.

It only lasts a second. Maybe two. Too brief, anyway. And then he pulls back just enough for the rest of the world to push itself back in.

The boardwalk.

The people.

We’re definitely not alone.

His hands are still on my face. His thumb swipes over my cheekbone.

I lick my lips, heart dancing in my chest. “What was that for?”

He shrugs. “For protecting me from the big bad rollercoaster.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’ll have you know I’m a huge bumper car enthusiast.”

His eyes stay locked with mine. There’s a softness in them that he usually reserves for those moments when it’s just the two of us, and suddenly I don’t know what to do with that. Suddenly it’s a lot. I become distinctly aware of the weight of my own feelings and how difficult it is to keep them to myself. I’m desperately trying to hide how far I’ve fallen in no time at all, because I’m too much of a coward to come clean. Because it might ruin everything.

Instead I’m reduced to faking normalcy, and I don’t know how well I’m managing. Especially when he’s looking at me like this. Like he can see straight into my soul.

“It’s been a long time since anybody’s taken care of me,” he says. There’s a specific kind of puzzled vulnerability in the way he says it. Like it’s difficult for him to believe anybody would put in the effort for him.

“Nicholas…” I say softly.

There are so many promises I want to make to him.