For Your Safety

by Jenny Bunting

  “They were getting out of line.”

  “What about the middle schoolers?”

  “Totally different thing. The kids were just being kids,” Henry says. “Plus, I’ve been deathly afraid of middle schoolers since I was in middle school. Josh and Diana are just idiots. I let the f-word slip, so not my finest moment, but…it had to be said.”

  There’s fire in those pupils. I bite my lip as I study his jawline. It’s very nice.

  “Oh my God, someone’s coming,” Henry says. I look down to see a portly man in a blue jumpsuit walking up the stairs adjacent to the track. He passes us, holding onto the railing for dear life with a bullhorn in his dangling hand. When he reaches halfway between the seats, he puts the bullhorn to his lips.

  “We appreciate your patience, ladies and gentlemen. We will begin the evacuation shortly. I’m just waiting for some of my colleagues to join me.”

  “Evacuation?” I ask, alarmed. Looking down, I see the flimsiest stairs, with slats that I could easily trip going down, and I swear the banister is held together by spit and duct tape.

  Henry and I look at each other with long, terrified faces. I’m not sure what’s more terrifying—the ride itself or evacuating off the ride.

  “I completely forgot we’re a million stories in the air,” Henry says. “They’re going to undo my harness, and I’m going to be asked to stand up and walk down those stairs. Look at me. Do l look like a man who is coordinated when he’s nervous?”

  “I’ll catch you if you fall.” I look over the edge again and shake my head. “Wait, no, I won’t. Sorry, Henry, you may be on your own. I’ll be amazed if I don’t hyperventilate.”

  “You and me both,” Henry says. “I psyched myself up for a date, not a death-defying stunt of walking down stairs.”

  “We’re a mess.”

  “A hot mess,” he agrees.

  “Why did we agree to this?”

  “Because we’re pushovers, that’s why,” Henry says. “You know what we need to do if ever we get off this ride?”

  “What?”

  “We have to ditch Landon and Erin. Before we’re convinced to go on another ride that breaks down that we didn’t want to go on in the first place.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Full-on stuff our faces with cotton candy and beer and sit on a park bench and people-watch. You can’t get stuck on rides if you don’t go on them.”

  “You want to keep hanging out with me? The crying didn’t scare you off?” I ask. “I straight-up sobbed.”

  “I grew up with three sisters. I’m used to emotions,” Henry says. “Your crying episode does not even register on the top five cries I’ve witnessed. You look really pretty when you cry. Ugh, I didn’t mean it that way…uh…”

  My heart pitter-patters. “I always thought I ugly-cried.”

  “No, no, no,” Henry says. “Your eyes get red around the center, but it makes them look really green. Like emeralds.”

  That could be a cheesy line coming from any of the several app-trolling douchebags I’ve gone on a date with in the past few months. From Henry, it makes my insides melt like hot fudge.

  Without warning, Henry grabs my hand, and I look down at it. Hot fireworks shoot up my arm, and I smile at him. His face breaks, and he’s smiling too.

  Maybe he wants to be more than friends.

  I’m not sure if I should say it. If proclaiming it out loud would jinx it or make it untrue.

  What the hell.

  “If we make it off of this ride, I’m going to lay one on you.”

  “Lay a punch?”

  “No,” I say with a giggle.

  “Lay a lei?” Henry asks.

  I shake my head again.

  “Lay a…kiss?” Henry asks. His lips curl up in a boyish smirk, and the butterflies have arrived. They were a little delayed, but now, they’re flapping and dive-bombing in my stomach and I can’t stop smiling.

  “Yes. A big, fat juicy one. If you’re okay with it, of course.”

  “I should’ve remembered my Binaca,” he says, and I laugh, imaging him pausing me so he could spray some breath freshener in his mouth.

  “You didn’t expect I would want to kiss you?”

  “No,” Henry says. “You’re way too pretty. I thought there was no way.”

  “I think you’re pretty cute,” I say. When I start involuntarily flirting, it’s definitely a good sign.

  “Please,” he says. “I know what I am. I’m a six at best if I was broke. App money bumps me up to about a seven and a half.”

  “Stop,” I say, laughing. The self-deprecating humor is killing me. All this time, I focused on how a guy looked in a suit or what kind of car he drove. Who knew a guy wearing black socks and white tennis shoes would work for me? A guy who hates heights as much as I do, who gets as nauseous and nervous on roller coasters as I do. A guy who likes to dance, just because.

  I was so busy focusing on a guy’s look, that I didn’t ever wonder about their heart.

  “Do you want to kiss me?” I ask.

  Henry let out a phew sound from his mouth. “Of course.”

  “Good,” I say. Henry squeezes my hand three times, and I pause. That was something my dad does whenever I’m nervous or worried about something.

  I asked my dad why he did it once and he said, “It’s my way of telling you everything is going to be alright.” Every time I was nervous before a swim meet or a dance recital, he used to take my hand and squeeze it, and I instantly felt better.

  Henry squeezing my hand reminds me of home.

  Reminds me that everything is going to be alright.

  And the swirl of nervousness in my belly reminds me that I cannot wait to grab his face and kiss him when we get off this train of doom.

  4

  They’re really going to make me stand up in this roller coaster seat. At an angle.

  I watch the technicians assist the people in the front first. Lots of shaky legs walk down the steps, hands gripping the railing like a lifeline. The park employees get closer and closer to Josh and Diana, and our morbid curiosity on what they look like overrides our terror at standing up and exiting our seats.

  It’s ultimately anticlimactic. Josh has some flesh-colored, patchy scruff on his jaw and glares at us as he walks off. Diana follows, wearing a high pony and a fashion fanny pack on her hip, her huge earrings swinging as she steps down the stairs.

  “I think you’re in the clear,” I say to Henry. “Your ass won’t be beat.”

  “I’m so relieved. If I don’t die going down those steps, we’re so making out,” Henry says, lifting his arms as far as the harness would allow. I try to lift my arms too, and we try to reach for each other, but dramatically quit because of the harnesses.

  It will be interesting to get off this ride. I hope our inevitable kiss isn’t terrible. While I felt nothing when we first met, I’ve grown to have a raging crush on this man, cargo shorts and all.

  “Are you still wet?” I ask.

  “Absolutely for you, baby,” Henry says. “Is it too soon to call you baby? How about schnookums?”

  I giggle and say, “Baby is fine, baby.”

  He winks, and I laugh harder.

  Finally, the employees are at our row.

  “Okay, we’re going to unlock these harnesses and help you step out. Ladies first,” he says. He unlocks the bright green harness with a key and flips it up. I roll my shoulders and tilt my head from side to side. He offers me a hand, and I take it, standing up.

  Don’t look down, don’t look down, I say to myself as I step onto the stairs. My knees almost give out as I move down three steps to give them room to get Henry out. They unlock his harness, and he steps out. He meets me a few steps down.

  Please touch me, Henry. Usually, a guy would wrap his arm around my waist or shoulders, but Henry doesn’t. We walk single-file down the ride and I finally look down.

  There’s news cameras with reporters and the fire department, as well as a huge crowd ga
thered, watching the stopped ride. I get closer to the ground, and relief washes over me. Seeing Erin’s face in the crowd causes me to burst into tears...again. When I step off of the final stair onto the blacktop covering the ground, we’re greeted by employees who shove a stack of cards at us.

  Once we’re through the exit, Henry drops to the ground and kisses the nasty blacktop like he’s a solider returning to the US from the Second World War.

  “Now I won’t kiss you,” I say. “Since your lips touched the ground.”

  Henry snaps his fingers with a swinging arm. “Damn, I knew it was too good to be true.”

  “Raegan!” Erin yells as she body-slams my chest and wraps her arms around me. We sway back and forth while Landon puts his hands on his hips, talking to Henry.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” I announce and pull Erin by the elbow. It’s been an hour and a half of being trapped on that ride, plus I need to discuss what happened with Henry.

  My chest sinks as I leave Henry and Landon discussing. He’s back to ignoring me.

  No hug when we got to the bottom, no kiss. He kissed the ground instead of kissing me. I went from being completely uninterested to intrigued with him and excited about making out to freaking out that Henry might’ve only been flirting with me because we were trapped and he was bored.

  I take care of business, and when I walk out, Erin is leaning against a wall with her arms crossed.

  “What happened up there?” Erin asks.

  I pump soap into my hands and lather them, running them under the cold water.

  “I like him.”

  “Yes!” Erin cheers. “I love being right.”

  “No,” I say. “I really, really like him.”

  “I told you. Maybe the roller coaster stopping was fate helping you out.”

  I rinse off my hands. Who knows how the date would’ve gone if we didn’t have time away from our friends to talk and get to know each other? To flirt. To connect.

  I’ve never felt this close to a man on the first date. Ever.

  “This is horrible timing,” I say.

  “You could stay in San Francisco, you know. If you need a place to stay…”

  “I’m not moving in with you,” I say. Erin and Landon own a cute two-bedroom apartment in the Marina District, and I have no money to contribute. It’s time to be sensible.

  I’m about to say fuck it and figure out a way to stay.

  “I’m not going to stay for a guy,” I say, although I’m not sure. “And anyway, he was weird when we got off of the ride. I expected…something.”

  A kiss. A kiss was what I expected. He kissed the damn ground instead.

  “You did just get off of a stuck roller coaster,” Erin says as I follow her out of the bathroom. We walk past a kiosk selling merchandise, and I pull out the cards in my pockets. It’s for drink coupons and front-of-the-line passes, and I separate them out. I hand Erin the ride passes.

  “I’m done with rides today,” I say.

  “Oh, okay,” Erin says. “What do you want to do instead?”

  Henry’s words leak into my memory. If we ever get off this ride, we have to ditch Landon and Erin.

  “Eat cotton candy and people-watch,” I say.

  We find Henry and Landon talking by the exit for the Double Helix. My breath catches in my throat as I approach Henry. His hands are settled in his pockets, and his mouth bursts into a bright smile. Maybe I wasn’t reading him wrong?

  He offers his hand to me, and I take it. He squeezes it three times and looks at Erin and Landon. “I want to hang out with Raegan alone, if that’s okay.”

  All the wondering is gone. He wants to run away with me.

  Well, for the rest of the day, at least.

  My own face breaks into a huge grin.

  “Fine,” Erin and Landon say together. Smugness covers their faces as they study our body language, our joined hands. Henry pulls me away from them, and I wave goodbye. He breaks into a run, and I follow him. We weave in and out of crowds, my hand in his. I feel like a kid, free of any adult worries or fear.

  I’m just having the best time with a boy I like.

  Once we’re far enough away from them, he ducks between two carnival booths, pulling me with him. He backs me against a wall and stares at me. My breath quickens as his lips hover inches from mine. His hand drifts down to my waist, and he grips my hip before dipping his head to kiss me.

  Heat prickles my cheeks and my neck as his lips touch mine, soft and firm, and then he pulls away before I can even register it. His eyes flit to mine, and I grab the back of his head and really crush our lips together.

  Never in my life could I have predicted Henry’s kisses.

  The kiss sizzles as his tongue breaches my lips, lazily playing with mine. His hand plays with one of my pink curls as he brushes it over my shoulder. My body is overwhelmed with this kissing, his hands on me. His hand cradles the back of my head tenderly, and I want to be kissed like this for the rest of my life.

  “This is so much fun,” Henry says when he pulls away, gasping for breath.

  “Then don’t stop.”

  He smiles, and his lips are back on mine. Our heads move side to side, our movements in perfect sync. His fingertips on my skin trace paths of spark, and when he pulls me to him, I feel his broad chest. My hand weaves around his body to feel his strong back muscles. Being so close in height works to our advantage. No one is craning their neck, so we can just keep kissing.

  His lips work their way down my jawline, finding a ticklish part near my ear. I snort-laugh, and his breath scorches my skin as he laughs at the noise I made.

  I’ve never been kissed like this before. It’s like Henry has no agenda, no end goal. It’s innocent and fun. I moan as he kisses my neck.

  “Oh, gross,” we hear and turn to see the same kid from the water ride who teased Henry. Henry freezes, and I break away, wiping my mouth with my hand.

  The kid has dried off considerably and holds a churro. My stomach growls at the proximity to delicious cinnamon and sugar.

  “You said he wasn’t your boyfriend,” the kid says.

  “He’s not,” I say.

  “We’re lovers,” Henry yells at the kid, and he retreats. My face flames. After a kiss like that, all I can think about is Henry between my legs, thrusting into me. I brace myself against the booth before I stumble.

  “Gross,” the kid says again. Someone calls out “Tristan,” and the kid pivots. He turns back and says, “Later, old people. Wear protection.”

  Henry rests his hands on his hips. “Where in the hell did he learn that?”

  “He interrupted us,” I say.

  “How rude of him,” Henry says, crossing his arms. “Whoever taught him about protection obviously didn’t teach him manners.”

  I cross my arms. “Can we forgo the cotton candy? That kid made me want a churro.”

  “I think I just fell in love with you,” Henry says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go get one and hope we never run into that weasel again.”

  I think I just fell in love with you vibrates through my skull. If any other date had said that to me, I would’ve found a reason to leave, asked my friend to call me with a fake emergency. With Henry, it doesn’t scare me at all.

  We leave our make-out cove in search of churros and walk toward the collection of walk-up ordering queues, full of people ordering and picking up food barely resembling nutrition.

  My stomach rumbles, and I check my watch. Three-thirty. No wonder.

  “Actually, churro later. I might get actual food. Well, the closest thing they have to food here.”

  “Smart,” Henry says. “What looks good? Fake Mexican? Fake Chinese? A very real corn dog?”

  “I can’t remember the last time I had a corn dog,” I say. “Let’s do it.”

  “Perfect,” Henry says as we walk to the island of a corn dog stand with a red-and-white tented roof. Two apathetic teenagers are working in it, barely cracking a smi
le at each new guest.

  We wait in line, and I lean into him, my hand snaking around his waist. He kisses the green portion of my hair, and when it’s our turn, we walk and order two hot-link corn dogs and two Diet Cokes with our free food coupons. We find the least stickiest table and doctor ours up. I prefer straight ketchup while he does a ketchup/mustard mixture, swirling it into an orange sauce in his cardboard boat.

  Mustard used to be a dealbreaker. Not anymore. I will gladly kiss him again. I might gag if I smell mustard, but I won’t care.

  “Oh my God,” Henry says, his mouth full of corn dog. His eyes bug, his bite crowded in his cheek like he’s a chipmunk. “This is delicious. Why don’t I get these more often?”

  I take a bite of mine. It’s fresh and hot, the breading melting in my mouth and the spiciness of the sausage taking a second to kick in. Once it does, there is so much flavor, and my eyes roll back in pleasure.

  There’s so many opportunities here for sexual innuendos, but I make none. With Henry, I don’t have to perform. I don’t have to be something I’m not. This date with Henry is one of the biggest surprises of my time in San Francisco.

  A time that is quickly coming to an end.

  Waves of sadness roll over me as I look at him. I accepted this date since I expected it would go nowhere. Now I’m trying to figure out what we can do. A guy who doesn’t do long distance. And now I’m leaving.

  “You look sad,” Henry asks. “Should we have gotten two corn dogs?”

  “No,” I say, wiping my hand on a napkin. I lick the remaining ketchup residue from my palm. “When I said I’m leaving San Francisco, I’m moving. Back to my hometown. In two days.”

  “Goldheart?” he asks.

  I nod. He remembered. “My contract is up with my job, and it’s time to determine my next steps. It’s time to be an adult.”

  “You look like an adult to me.” Henry wiggles his eyebrows, and I touch his forearm.

  “No, I need to get serious,” I say, repeating a conversation I had with my older sister. “I’ve had my fun. I got to live my dream of being in San Francisco. It’s time to figure out my life. What I want to do. Who I want to be.”

  “I think you’re pretty awesome just the way you are,” Henry says.