Contents
Books by Jenny Bunting
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright © 2021 by Jenny Bunting
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
* * *
Editing: Lopt & Cropt Editing
Proofreading: Horus Proofreading
Cover Design: Kari March Designs
* * *
If you are reading this ethically (either by buying, using the lending option, or through a paid subscription or library), thank you from the bottom of my heart.
If you’re reading a PDF of this for free from a pirate website, fuck you.
Books by Jenny Bunting
Here in Lillyvale
Here (Zoey and Jonathan)
Hustle (Taylor and Malcolm)
Home (Addison and Kirk)
Hubby (Makenna and Dan)
* * *
Stuck in Love
Please Be Seated (Erin and Landon)
In Case of Emergency (Cassie and Smith)
For Your Safety (Raegan and Henry)
* * *
Finch Family
Fool’s Gold (Annie and Cameron)
To the middle schoolers we shared a water ride raft with at Six Flags a few years ago.
* * *
In the immortal words of Lee Ann Womack, I hope you dance.
1
An avalanche of water pours over my date’s head.
“Oh my God, look at you! You got nailed!” an obnoxious thirteen-year-old yells at Henry with a cackle and a finger point. Henry says nothing as the teenager’s best friend starts in on the mockery and points at him too. My date Henry, a grown-ass man, does nothing.
Say something, point at the teenagers too, something.
Since there’s only four of us, Henry and me on a double-date with my friend Erin and her fiancé Landon, we’re stuck with two random middle schoolers on this six-person water raft ride. The children sat down, already soaking wet, and it’s clear they’re cycling through the line like men cycle through online dating profiles.
The children mimic Henry’s shocked face the minute the waterfall took him over, and he blushes. No quick remark, no witty comeback, nothing.
I make a mental note of yet another reason Henry is not my forever.
Frankly, this date was doomed from the start. When my friend Erin sent me a picture of Henry, I was underwhelmed. Henry has cropped strawberry-blond hair, pale skin, and light eyes—not my usual type at all.
When we met outside the theme park for the first time, I zoned in on the suburban-dad white tennis shoes with black socks hiked up to halfway on his hairy calves. Even though he’s the same height as me, he didn’t look me in the eye.
I’m typically attracted to taller men with darker hair and a poet’s soul.
So, when we shook hands, I felt nothing. Not a blip. Not a single zing.
It’s for the best, actually. This is my last weekend before I move home, and I don’t need anything complicating that move. I’ve already cried a lot about leaving San Francisco. I don’t need another reason to cry.
I cry at everything already.
Erin and her fiancé Landon suggested this double-date to Thrill Mountain, an amusement park on a flat piece of land on the outskirts of San Francisco County as a way for Henry and me to meet. I don’t really like amusement parks, but I’ve made a habit of saying yes.
Yes to a sixteen-month contract in my dream city, San Francisco.
Yes to getting a tattoo on my wrist because my friend was getting one too.
Yes to a date I don’t think is going to go anywhere when I’m leaving town in two days.
This meeting almost didn’t happen, but Henry just returned to San Francisco from a year-long residence in Singapore. Erin constantly insisted Henry and I are perfect for each other.
“I just wish he would come home so you could meet,” she would say over brunch or our wine-and-charcuterie nights. “You would be great together. You have so much in common.”
I don’t know about you, but I take no shit from middle schoolers.
The raft ascends another apex, through rock formations and foliage. The children vibrate with sugar and screams of excitement.
Henry’s eyes bug at the next climb, and I notice his Adam’s apple bob and his lips part.
Yep, nothing going on downstairs for me. Not even a flicker.
“I’m sure this boat will spin, and they’ll get it this time,” I say with my brightest smile as my date looks terrified.
“I hope so,” he says. “My balls are in my stomach right now.”
I gasp out a laugh at the randomness from him. I did not expect jokes from a man who got nauseous on the Spinster and dry-heaved into the corner for five minutes.
When we reach the top, the teenagers scream for no reason before we even drop, startling me in my seat. “Here we go!” one of the boys says as we crest the top and the raft sails down the drop while twisting, and a wave of water covers the two boys we’re sharing the boat with.
Sweet, sweet revenge.
“Haha,” I say with a finger point to them. The water gives them power since one shakes off droplets and yells like he just conquered an army in a battle while the other laughs maniacally like a demon child.
“I’m so scared of them,” Henry whispers.
“Don’t be,” I whisper. “They’re just kids. Let’s have fun with them.”
I turn to them and yell, “You got nailed!”
Turning toward Henry, I say, “See, not so scary.”
“You’re going let your girlfriend stick up for you?” one teenager says to Henry as water drips down his chin.
Blood drains from my face. Maybe middle schoolers are scary. “I’m not his girlfriend,” I object.
“Did you get friend-zoned, bro?” one of them asks, and Henry’s pale skin flushes under the water droplets.
“Man, kids are brutal these days,” Erin mutters to herself.
“No shit,” Landon adds.
I open my mouth to speak, but Henry leans in, his proximity doing nothing. “Please. Make them stop. I will have nightmares about this for weeks.”
I laugh nervously, not sure if he’s joking or not. This is the most Henry has talked to me this whole date.
“They’re egging you on. Don’t you want to stick up for yourself?” I ask.
“No. I prefer to sit in my misery and cold clothes,” he says.
Negative. Another point off for Henry Mansfield.
It’s an agonizing few minutes until we reach the rotating wood deck, and we unbuckle our seatbelts to get off the damp ride. The teenagers disappear immediately.
“We got out relatively unharmed. Except for Henry’s ego,” Erin says to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Poor Henry.”
We watch Henry step out, the water dripping from his cargo shorts.
“I need to talk to you,” I say, grabbing Erin’s hand.
Erin turns to the men. “We’re going to hit the ladies’.”
“I’m going to
sit in the sun to dry off and get heat stroke,” Henry says, and Landon laughs as he smacks him on the back.
We find a bathroom near an arcade and walk in. I turn toward Erin with crossed arms.
“You bamboozled me,” I say.
“Come again?” Erin asks, her face blank.
“Henry. I don’t see what we have in common at all. He barely talks, and he’s not having a good time, not in the least.”
“Look,” Erin says. “Henry is a little awkward, but he’s a really good guy. I promise. There is something there…”
“I don’t feel anything with him. No spark,” I say. “Plus, I’m moving literally Monday.”
“I refuse to accept that you’re moving. To your other point, I think the spark is overrated,” Erin says. “Your picker is off. What about the last guy whose poetry reading you dragged us to? His poetry was awful, and I wanted to punch him.”
“Kelvin,” I say.
“Was his real name Kevin?”
“I never confirmed, but probably.”
I fell for Kelvin’s guitar-playing and man bun and his passion for minimalism and sustainable living. He knew I was fluent in French, and he would string random vocabulary words in a terrible accent to make me laugh.
Ultimately, the angst of our relationship drove me crazy, and he eventually blocked my number.
Erin and our other friend Cassie—who recently got engaged to her boyfriend Smith—listened to me rant and cry about dating in San Francisco one too many times. The men here are either gay or drive me crazy.
But it’s the reason I’m here at an amusement park, something I’m not a big fan of, on a date with a guy I have no future with.
“Leave no stone unturned” is my new dating mantra.
At the very least, I get to spend time with Erin before I leave.
She’s lucky I love her when she says, “I think we’re heading to the Double Helix next.”
I freeze and swallow the lump in my throat.
The showcase roller coaster of the theme park, The Double Helix. My hands shake thinking about riding it. Dread prickles my temples, and I place a hand on the tiled wall.
Besides being afraid of heights, I’ve been scared of roller coasters ever since I was eight, when I crashed my older sister’s slumber party and they were watching Final Destination 3. A roller coaster accident happens in the first ten minutes, and the main character’s boyfriend being split in half still haunts my memories.
“Stop looking so pale, it’ll be fun,” Erin says, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the bathroom. “And fall in love with Henry, please. So you’ll stay.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I squawk as we tumble out of the bathroom and find Landon and Henry.
“Double Helix?” Erin asks. Landon’s face brightens, and he envelops his fiancée.
“I can’t wait!” Landon shouts excitedly.
Henry and I wear matching “I’m about to throw up” expressions.
“Are you nervous?” I whisper to Henry.
“Yes. You?”
“Yes.”
“They’re not going to let us get out of it,” Henry says.
“I don’t think so,” I agree.
“Well, at least we’ll be in this together,” he adds. He smiles, and for the first time, I feel a tiny bond form between us.
At least this date won’t be totally heinous.
“Let’s get this over with,” I say as we head toward the Double Helix.
We round a corner of gift shops to see the monstrosity. I hear the movement of the trains and the screams as we get closer, and I shake out my hands.
The Double Helix is a bright-green ride with huge drops and two loops and a few corkscrews. Its claim to fame is two tracks intertwining way too close to one another to possibly be safe. We pass under it, and Henry and I look up at the same time. We look at each other with similar terror in our eyes.
I’m determined to be a good date and face this fear. I’ve done far scarier things. I lived by myself in France for a year. I moved to San Francisco on my own. I found a mouse in my apartment.
This is nothing. I will be fine.
Erin and Landon pause at the entrance so we can join them. We let four teenagers go ahead of us, and we weave in between the metal barricades to come to a halt.
“Doesn’t look like that long of a line,” Landon says, peering over the crowd. He pulls Erin to him, her back pressed against his front, his arms looped around her waist.
My heart squeezes. Watching Erin plan her wedding to the man of her dreams makes me realize how much I want that. I haven’t met a man yet who makes me feel the way I imagine Erin feels. Or Cassie feels. Over a year of dating in San Francisco was a complete bust for me. I’ve been dating since I was sixteen. Where the fuck is he?
Maybe once I settle down and ignore my wanderlust, I’ll find him.
Henry looks at Landon and Erin and back at me. I freeze. He doesn’t expect to cuddle, does he? I cross my arms tightly across my chest so he doesn’t get any ideas.
Henry and I study the safety video like we’re Elle Woods studying for the LSAT.
“For your safety, keep your arms and legs inside the train at all times,” an animated DNA strand says, holding a pointer to a chalkboard with a gloved hand. We wind around, and we’re about to go to the bay to be loaded onto the ride.
Now that we’re here, I’m freaking out. Everything is a haze. My heart thunders in my chest. I see the exit for chickens right there, an elevator that brings you to the exit for the ride, mixing in with the off-loaded riders, where you feel like a loser for walking off.
“Look,” I say to Henry with an inconspicuous point to the lines below. There are our drenched teenage nemeses, climbing into an empty train. “If they’re not scared, why should we be scared, right?”
I giggle nervously. Those teenagers would probably love it if it goes off the tracks.
“I’m not scared,” Henry says, giving a nervous laugh. His smile falls. “Actually, I’m terrified.”
“Me too,” I say, relaxing.
“We don’t have to go on it, you know,” Henry counters. “We can just go eat cotton candy and people-watch.”
“No,” I say with conviction. “How’s your stomach?”
“I’ve felt like throwing up this entire time, so what’s one more high-velocity jolt to really reject all of the food I’ve eaten in the past twenty-four hours?”
I laugh again. Henry might be funny? In a dry, self-deprecating way?
We walk down the final staircase to the lines. An employee in a blue jumpsuit is separating guests to his left and right to load on both sides of the dock. He asks the two groups in front of us for the number in their party.
Then he looks up the staircase and holds up a peace sign. “Party of two, party of two?”
“We are!” Henry yells.
I lean in. “We’re a party of four,” I say. Something about being separated from Landon and Erin terrifies me more.
“We need to get this over as soon as possible,” Henry says. “Like ripping off a bandage. Then, we can find a nice bench and stay there until Landon and Erin want to leave.”
“You have a point.” I say. I hold up the matching peace sign. “Party of two!”
Henry follows me as I pass Erin and Landon, as well as the teenagers and a group of four CSU Hayward students. The employee guides us to the set of seats of a train.
“Okay, we’re in this together,” Henry says. “We will both scream, and then it will be over and we’ll have an ugly keepsake photo to remember it.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say.
He turns toward me. “I do have an offer.”
“What’s that?”
“I can hold your hand. You know, if you get scared,” he says.
“Sure,” I hear myself say. Holding hands would not be leading him on; it’s just solidarity between us. He winks at me as we’re coaxed into our seats by an employee.
After we’re s
trapped in and we lower our harnesses, Henry offers an open palm, and I cover his hand with mine. I feel a tiny zing when our fingers intertwine.
2
I’m teetering on the edge of a heights freak-out; it can’t be sparks of chemistry.
“Wow, you might break my hand,” Henry says, looking down at our joined hands. My knuckles are turning white.
“I’m a little nervous,” I say. My mouth is dry as my plants’ soil at home, so I smack my lips together so I can swallow.
“It would be an honor to have my hand broken by you,” he says.
“Oh really?” Is he flirting?
“However, the minute we go over the first hill, I’m dropping your hand and holding onto these handlebars for dear life, just so you know,” he says. His eyes jerk to the silver handlebars on the bright green drop harness.
“Fair,” I reply. His hand feels nice in mine for the time being.
We sit on the track for an eternity, as the employees check seatbelts and harnesses by pulling and jiggling. Finally, one employee waves his hand down to signal to the person in the control booth. The train starts to move, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Why are you closing your eyes? Don’t you want to see the crash before your death?”
I laugh out loud. That joke might not work on everyone, but it works on me.
“Why are we doing this?” I ask.
“Our friends are pushy as fuck,” Henry says.
We curve around a corner and are faced with the first ascent of the ride. The gears click into place as the train begins its climb and other passengers shriek in excitement.
“This is horseshit,” Henry says. “I shouldn’t have let Landon talk me into this.”
I wonder if he means the date or the ride. Maybe both.
“Oh my God, oh my God, we’re really moving,” I say. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.”
For Your Safety Page 1
