Page 7 of Slapshot Kiss

No.

No, no, no.

The gondola sways gently beneath us, and suddenly I can feel every inch of empty air between my feet and the ground.

My chest locks.

"Quinn?" I hear his voice from far away.

The people below are tiny. Far too tiny.

Another gust of wind moves through the gondola, rocking it on its hinge, and my stomach drops so violently that a sound catches in my throat.

I'm going to fall.

I know, logically, that I'm not, but my body doesn't care.

My hands tighten until my knuckles ache, and every breath gets caught halfway into my lungs.

"Hey." Wyatt’s voice is calm and soothing and so unlike his usual teasing that it gets my attention. There’s so much gentleness in that single word that it makes my chest tighten.

When I finally risk looking at him, he's watching me with a crease between his brows. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I answer automatically.

He doesn't buy it for a second. "No, you're not."

I laugh. Or at least I attempt something that vaguely resembles a laugh. "I'm peachy."

"You've barely looked anywhere except straight ahead since we got on, and you’ve been really quiet."

Damn him.

"And I think you're trying really hard not to squeeze that safety bar in half."

I glance down. My fingers have gone white.

"Quinn." His voice softens another notch. "Are you scared of heights?"

My pride immediately sits bolt upright. "No."

One eyebrow lifts.

"...Maybe a little."

"A little?"

"I strongly dislike unnecessary altitude."

His smile flickers for the briefest second, but it isn't teasing. It's fond. "You could've told me."

"I was hardly going to announce that I was afraid of a carnival ride."

"I wouldn't have laughed."

I scowl at him. "That doesn’t matter. I still would've looked ridiculous."

The wheel shifts again, and I suck in a sharp breath before I can stop myself.