SWNOVELS The Fake Zone: Chapter 9
Splash Mountain was Evelyn’s first choice—a solid decision, spoiled only by the long wait time. During the seventy-five-minute queue, I make small talk with strangers, compliment a woman’s gorgeous curls, pretend to play Buzz Lightyear with a little boy dressed as Woody, and discuss the weather with a mom who looks overwhelmed and exhausted. Then Evelyn rescues me by giving me the task of planning our day. I want her to experience everything the park has to offer. I’m considering the best snacks, rides, and adventures when a cast member asks Hudson how many are in our party and waves us forward. I realize a crucial detail about this particular ride. You sit in pairs.
Hudson tucks into the seat beside Evelyn, and I sit behind them. Grey sits beside me, his shoulders, hips, and thighs pressing against me. It’s the closest we’ve ever been, aside from the night he walked me to my car when I nearly tripped over my own fears until he caught me. We haven’t exchanged a single word since the elevator on our way to breakfast, and the tension is eating at me from the inside out.
I glance over at him, and he appears completely at ease, making the tension inside me growl a protest. He’s barely acknowledged me, which isn’t like us. We generally spar and poke. He criticizes my poor eating choices and addiction to coffee, and I prod him for being too serious and grouchy. Then we avoid each other and roll our eyes—or I roll my eyes—and we each go on our merry little way. I need the universe to return us to this norm.
“You don’t get motion sickness, right?” The question pops out of me, hoping to find something to heckle and tease him for.
Grey lowers the lap bar as instructed, widening his legs to pull it lower so it also hits my thighs. His knee is now touching mine. We would have managed less contact if I had slept in the bed with him last night than we do now, strapped down to a pseudo log preparing to fall down a giant waterfall. Twice.
“No, but you’re looking a little pale. You aren’t going to faint, are you?” he asks.
I’m pale because he’s pressed against me, and I smell the spice and hint of citrus from his cologne which is annoyingly perfect. Because Emma is hitting on him, and it shouldn’t bother me half as much as it does.
I manage to shake my head.
The music starts, and the ride has us moving through a cave. Evelyn echoes words of amazement and wonder that replace my discomfort. Excitement grows in my stomach before we go down a small decline that causes nervous laughter from the couple behind us. My anticipation grows, as does my smile, triggering fourteen years of banked memories and making me recall how many times my stomach shot up to my throat at the same spot.
I grip the bar across my lap, recalling how this safety measure wasn’t here the first several years. I’d felt equal measures of relief and anger when it was installed because as much change as I’ve endured, sometimes I particularly resent it. Though the lap belt made my fear of this ride drop by ninety percent, I didn’t want it to be changed. I wanted to face this fear because safely arriving at the end of the ride symbolized something far greater and bigger, and the lap belts removed that small gamble and allowance.
Grey turns, breaking my thoughts from the unwanted memory, and I glance over to make sure he’s not lying about what his stomach can tolerate. He’s looking around, soaking in every magical detail with an expression I don’t recognize or understand. He lowers his gaze to me. “What?”
I shake my head and turn my attention forward. “Nothing.”
“Is this it?” Evelyn asks, craning her neck to look back at me as we ascend a hill, the tracks clicking like a timer.
“Maybe,” I taunt her.
She belts out a laugh and grips the bar before we coast down another small drop that elicits more of the nervous laughter that has my smile broadening again.
The ride cruises around a bend, and then we fall without warning, screams piercing the air. The wind brushes my hair and face, welcoming me back to where I first experienced this crazy and wonderful space, openly defying not only gravity but the first seven years of my life.
As we coast into the mountain part of the ride, Grey sits back, his smile wide and bright and so damn carefree it kicks me in the teeth. The only time he flashes this smile is when they win a game, and even then, it’s reserved for the toughest games when he’s made plays that are guaranteed to circulate on the highlight reels.
I want to laugh with him and tell him all the other rides that will give him the same stomach-pitching feeling but don’t because that’s not a condition of our relationship.
“That was amazing!” Evelyn says, her dark eyes bright as a smile consumes her features. “That just ruined every future roller coaster.” She links her arm with mine. “Where should we go next?”
“Haunted Mansion or Pirates of the Caribbean,” I tell them.
“Haunted Mansion,” Hudson says. “It was closed the last time I was here.”
Evelyn walks beside me, the Florida sun warm on our skin. It feels like November in Oleander Springs, where the weather makes you yearn to spend every moment outside, dry and warm, with an artist’s sky.
Evelyn brushes her elbow against my side to catch my attention as we move around a large group. “Is everything okay?” she asks quietly.
Evelyn has always had the uncanny ability to read people, like me and most empaths, it’s because she’s been exposed to too many unstable situations that required her to be perceptive of people’s moods and rely on instinct.
I nod absently and then with intention as her gaze becomes scrutinizing. “Yeah.” I clutch her arm a little tighter and point out the boat that can take us to Tom Sawyer’s Island.
She studies me a beat. The past several months of living together have given her the ability to read me like a book, recognizing my attempt to deflect.
“I’m just tired.” It’s not a lie. I didn’t sleep well, and it had nothing to do with the chaise. Telling Grey that Julian Holloway, the maintenance man at the apartment building I lived in last year, had broken into my apartment opened the door of past fears just enough to let them flood into the recesses of my mind. I ignore the additional distractions that include Emma and Grey.
Evelyn doesn’t prod me for more as we approach the infamous ride that used to terrify me as a child.
We walk through the iron gates before finding the end of the line.
“You have to stick together, or you get stuck riding with a stranger,” I warn them. “The ride starts with us as a large crowd.”
“Can all four of us ride together?” Evelyn asks.
I shake my head, hating the answer, before I tell her, “We’ll have to pair off again.” I’m almost tempted to pull out a best friend card and ask Evelyn to ride with me. She would without hesitation or complaint, but one of the worst parts of having your best friends date is that you care about their feelings and happiness more than your own, hence last night and why I’m already coming to terms that I’m going to sit by a random stranger or Grey.
“I’ll ride with you,” Evelyn says, likely knowing I won’t ask her.
I shake my head. “Just promise to ride It’s a Small World with me, and I’ll be happy.”
Evelyn side-eyes Grey. “Are you sure?”
I nod. “Think about what you want for your first snack, a cinnamon roll the size of your head, a Dole Whip, a turkey leg bigger than Hudson’s biceps, funnel cake, corn dog, a huge fruit and chocolate filled waffle…”
“I’m never leaving,” she says wistfully.
I chuckle and focus on being present. When the line moves us into the mansion, the temperature drops considerably, chilling me after the Florida sun had me feeling too warm. My eyes are still adjusting to the muted lighting when Evelyn gives me a final questioning glance. I squeeze her hand. “I’m okay. I swear.” I will my residual bad mood to leave.
She offers a supportive smile as we follow the crowd into the small room, forced to stand a little closer. The iconic voice welcomes us to the Haunted Mansion, marking the beginning of the ride.
The same nervous chuckles that people emitted on the small drops of the roller coaster fill the small space as jokes about our safety are announced. Evelyn’s fascination and surprise as the paintings and walls grow has me feeling like it’s my first time on the ride.
When the doors open, we follow the crowd to the small cars, Grey a step behind me.
“How many?” the cast member asks when I hit the walking conveyer belt.
I start to lift a hand when Grey answers, “Two.”
She waves us forward.
I slip into the empty car, and Grey climbs in beside me, taking every free inch of space. I’ve never felt like the cars were too small when riding with my dads, Alex or Jon, but as Grey presses against every part of me once again, I hear Emma calling me ginormous. I try to force myself to be smaller, tucking in my legs and arms and pressing against the hard plastic of the car before the lap bar is snugly lowered into our laps by a girl who takes a few extra seconds to stare appreciatively at Grey.
I’m inclined to ask her if she wants to switch positions. I’d gladly dawn her hat and heavy dress to get out of this appropriately titled Doom Buggy.
The ride starts, and Evelyn leans forward to wave at us, just as I used to when riding it with one parent while the other rode behind us.
I glance at Grey, nearly missing the library and the busted statues with eyes that follow us, wanting to see his reactions to each part of the ride.
He glances at me from the corner of his eyes but says nothing.
We pass by the grand piano and enter the darkened tunnel, where eyes flash in bright colors. They never scared me. It was always the dark that made me dislike this ride so vehemently I refused to ride on it for years.
Without warning, we come to a stop. Grey looks at me. “Is this part of the ride?”
I shake my head, the hard plastic of the seat biting into my spine from the slight incline that has us leaning backward. “Sometimes they have to stop the ride so someone can get off or on.”
A minute later, they ask everyone to remain seated, assuring us we’ll move again shortly.
“What happened last night at the elevator? What did that guy say to you? The comments about the bag … the scrubbing?”
“Better question, why did you assume I slept with him?”
“Because I assume most guys want to sleep with you.”
I stare at him, wondering what kind of dimension we’ve fallen into that has him saying something like that and debating whether I should be offended. My heart pounds a traitorous beat. “I don’t know what you mean by that or if I’m offended,” I tell him, filters forgotten.
Grey smirks, but it’s too dark for me to fully appreciate how his lips tilt higher to the left or how a small dimple stamps into his right cheek.
“I don’t know what I’m saying either.”
I scoff.
“Did you see him again? Is that why you came back and stayed?”
My heart thumps so hard, I swear it’s hitting against my ribs, making each beat audible.
I shake my head. “The neighbor in the adjoining room was messing with the door, and it freaked me out.”
He nods, accepting my answer. “Will you just tell me what he said?”
Pride shakes her head adamantly. “Why?”
“I need to know if I should punch him if I see him again.”
Nolan, Corey, and Palmer would say the same thing, I remind myself.
“But seriously? A bag?” he asks.
“So you could put it over my head, so you didn’t have to look at me while we had sex.” The words come tumbling out of me like a dare as I stare at him with raised brows, waiting to take his reaction without flinching.
Grey stares back, eyes searching mine.
I wonder if he’s going to laugh. I want him to make a joke. It would be kinder than him agreeing and so much easier to accept than the flicker of regret I see in his gaze.
“What a bastard.”
It’s a neutral sentiment—neither supporting nor rejecting the bag claim.
It stings.
It shouldn’t.
“Exactly.” I lean back, appreciating how the seat bites into my shoulder blades, and send a silent plea for the ride to start again soon. This sharing bubble is too small, and the darkness has me considering other things I might share or ask Grey, like why he’s always disliked me.
Thankfully, the ride starts before I can do either.