He stares at me, attempting to decipher the sudden intensity pooling behind my pupils. He’s confused, but not as confused as I am, because he’s not experiencing the unmistakable heat rising up my body. He made a colour-coded key. He ranked his research. He drewdiagrams. The mere knowledge of it has twisted my insides into one giant knot. I have no words to reply to him– all I can muster is a weak shake of my head. It’s enough reassurance to let him move on and start getting out of the car.
Amusement parks were my idea of a sensory hell as a child, filled with loud noises, rides I was too small for, and far too many people. Even now, as we stroll past the winding queues and screaming vendors, I’m questioning just how long we have to be here. The only thing keeping me going is the fact that, no matter how miserable I am, Aiden looks worse.
‘So where do we start, then?’ I ask as he stares back at me blankly. ‘With the rides. Which one are we going on first?’
‘Oh, we’re not doing those,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘We came to look, make notes, watch the reactions of the people that get off them.’
I can’t help but stare up at him with a mild expression of disgust. Who drives someone all the way to an amusement park and doesn’t go on a single ride? It’s idiotic and borderline psychopathic, even for Aiden. But the longer I look at him, the more I suspect that there’s more to it. Every ride that soars past makes him grimace. He’s more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen him.
‘I never pegged you as the type to be scared of an amusement ride,’ I say, trying my luck.
Honestly, I never considered that he might be scared of anything. Up until recently, I wasn’t entirely convinced that he possessed emotions at all. The jury’s still out on whether he does.
‘I’m not!’ he replies. ‘I’m just a sensible person who knows to avoid things that could lead to certain death.’
A screeching carriage full of people races past us on the left and he flinches, practically jumping out of his skin. Before he has time to recover, another ride rockets past our heads. He ducks in fear, his eyes darting to the thrill-seekers above before quickly darting to me.
‘You see that one? That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen,’ he says.
In his defence, the ride doesn’t look remotely safe. None of them do. But there’s something about the one above us, with its large, twirling frame, that has an indescribably dangerous allure. It’s so tall and horrifying, and, just a couple of months ago– maybe even one week ago– I would have agreed that I’d never go near it. But I am bolder now, or at least I am trying to be, and there’s nothing I feel compelled to do more.
‘Let’s go.’
‘What?’ he asks.
‘Let’s go! You want me to act on impulse? My impulse is telling me to get in that queue and onto that ride.’
‘Go right ahead,’ he says, lightly shooing me towards it.
‘If I’m going, you’re going,’ I say.
I grab his hand and pull him towards the line, looking back as his face contorts in shock. He stumbles after me, mouth open but lost for words, and ego far too proud to object.
‘You’re a menace,’ he mutters, shaking his head.
‘Or am I being a diver instead of a wader?’ I ask defiantly.
The silence between us is palpable as we move through the queue, triggering every instinct I have to grab my phone from my bag. But I can’t. I won’t. I am stronger than that. Instead, I look up at Aiden, his deep-brown eyes glued to the carriages above us. He’s terrified, but he doesn’t dare admit it. It’s not until we’re ushered into our own two-person carriage that he once again acknowledges my presence.
‘These seats are tiny,’ he says. ‘It’s not looking good.’
He’s right– the seats are abnormally cramped. I’m a good few inches shorter than he is and even I’m struggling. But the one benefit to being squashed tightly beside him is that I get to witness him emote in 4K. His jaw is clenched tight, his hands squeezed into fists. He wants nothing more than for this to be over. But me? I want to replay the look on his face for as long as my memory allows me.
‘Relax, we’re fine,’ I say to reassure him, revelling in his discomfort.
The safety bar swings down, trapping us in place, and he jumps at the movement, trying to play it off as a shiver. But I know what I saw and he knows I know too.
‘There’s no going back now. . .’ I can’t resist taunting him.
He grumbles, his jaw clenched in terror. ‘You’re the worst.’
The ride whirrs raucously to life, the vibrations echoing through both of our bodies and the far-too-thin metal. We jolt forward instantly, sealed into our fate, before oh-so-slowly creeping towards our doom. I can feel Aiden’s breath catch as we begin our ascent, the vessel climbing the slope so tortuously slow. The speed of the climb makes it all that much worse, and, given how stone-faced he is, Aiden certainly agrees.
‘See, it’s slow. This is not that bad,’ I lie, overcome by an instinct to calm his nerves.
He grunts. ‘That’s how they get you. They lull you into a false sense of security, and then BAM.’
‘Bam?’
