by Emma Jackson
‘Well, phobias make people react in irrational ways.’
‘I’m not going to move. I’ll probably—’ He took a shaky breath. ‘I’ll probably hyperventilate. I might…I might…’
He still hadn’t opened his eyes, so I grabbed his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He tightened his grip around my fingers in a way that was reminiscent of women giving birth. Which gave me an idea. Focus on the end point. That was what I used to do when I was a midwife with the women who were terrified once labour got underway.
‘It’s not going to take long – the ride’s only about ten minutes tops and then we’ll be on our way down—’ It was really unfortunate that as I said the word ‘down’ the wheel stopped and the gentle swing became more pronounced. Stephen’s eyes flew open and his other hand grabbed at the side of the cabin, his knuckles going white. ‘It’s okay,’ I tried to soothe him. I was really starting to feel rotten that I had forced him into this. It wasn’t a joke. He was getting more terrified by the second. ‘It’s just letting some more people on; we’ll start moving again in a minute.’
‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ he muttered and his eyes darted out and back again as he saw how high up we were already. If it was possible, he turned even more white. Maybe he was going to pass out.
‘I reckon you should put your head between your legs.’
‘I can’t move.’ And it was true: he seemed barely able to move his jaw to speak.
‘You’ve been so much higher than this so many times in your life and it’s always been fine hasn’t it? Don’t you work in a huge skyscraper?’
‘It has walls.’ His eyes widened at me, as though he couldn’t fathom that I’d say something so ridiculous. And it was ridiculous. What did I think? I was going to talk him out of his irrational fear? No. Another tactic was necessary.
The cage started moving again and he gave a startled groan low in his throat. I slapped my other hand on top of his.
‘Y’know, this is super inconsiderate of you. I’m not getting to appreciate this ride at all because I’m so worried about you. This and the dodgems are my favourite things to do here. You fancy doing that next?’
He didn’t say anything.
‘I could try and win you an enormous cuddly toy at the coconut shy? What’s your preference? Giant panda or fluffy unicorn? I got you down as a unicorn lover, am I right?’
‘Oh my God, do you never shut up?’ he panted at me.
‘Very rarely. I’m trying to distract you, doofus. Is it working?’
‘No. I’m too used to tuning you out when you ramble on and on.’
I raised an eyebrow at him, but his eyes were shut again. ‘You want me to be quiet then?’
‘Could you?’
‘I can but try.’
‘Great. Thank you.’
I pressed my lips together and looked out. We were nearing the top now: 150 feet up in the air. The lights down below twinkled and flashed while up here it was blissfully cool and quiet. Even the music of the arcades was faint. I didn’t mind appreciating the peace…but it was spoiled slightly by Stephen’s harsh breathing. If he hadn’t been such a wreck, it might’ve turned me on.
The problem also was, I knew we were going to stop at the top. It was going to be a bad moment, if he reacted like last time and looked out. The breeze moved my hair across my face, and I lifted my hand away from his, to tuck it behind my ear, trying not to recall the way it had felt when he’d smoothed my hair back the same way earlier – the graze of his fingertips on the shell of my ear.
His eyes snapped open again as though he sensed my movement and thought I was going somewhere. They landed on mine, but I didn’t say anything, and he blinked a few times. ‘Okay, quiet isn’t working. Distract me again.’
Talking wasn’t helping. It was time to do something extreme. I put my hand to his clammy cheek, the slight abrasion of his stubble against my palm, and leaned in towards him.
‘What are you—?’
‘Shh, distracting you,’ I murmured as my nose lined up with his. ‘Just close your eyes and think of England.’
He didn’t close his eyes though. Not right away. My lips found his and they were cool and surprisingly soft for all their firm lines. I pressed against them gently. I didn’t want to move too much and unbalance the cage. Which left the kiss chaste and sweet; the kind I probably would’ve had with a teenage boy on this wheel, if any teen boy had ever actually asked me.
The kind of kiss unlikely to interest an experienced man like Stephen, now I thought about it.
But then he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, his mouth relaxing under mine. Just that little yield made my tummy flutter and a touch of guilt assailed me. Was I taking advantage of him here under the guise of helping him? Probably a bit. Maybe a lot.
His lips parted and he tilted his head ever so slightly. I figured if I could get him to take his death grip away from the side of the car and transfer it to me, that would prove he was getting something from this. That it was working to distract him.
I brushed my mouth over his again, and he caught at my bottom lip gently. My tummy flutter twisted and grew, anticipation and warmth shimmering through me. I slid my hand down his neck and inside his collar, fingers shaping to his firm muscles. I completely forgot I wasn’t meant to be moving much.
He stilled. I sneaked my eyes open a fraction and saw that we’d moved past the top. We were almost a quarter of the way down.
‘Stay with me. We’re nearly there,’ I whispered and something wild inside, a temptation I couldn’t deny, made me stroke my tongue slowly across his top lip. He shuddered and I really hoped it was a good shudder. I planted one more, full-on kiss firmly against his wonderful mouth and forced myself to move away. We were nearly at the bottom. ‘You can open your eyes now. We have to get off in a minute.’
He opened his eyes and the look he speared me with was so full of raw emotion it made me breathless.
I lifted his hand in mine and peeled his fingers free. He glanced away and when he saw we were nearly at the bottom, dared to straighten up in his seat.
We exited the ride in silence. I’m not normally at a loss for words – as he so graciously pointed out before – but I was stumped if I knew where to go from here.
‘So. I’m going to visit the little girls’ room.’ I backed away. His face gave nothing away as he looked at me. He was still so pasty, but I could see a hard edge creeping into his expression that had me worried. Was he mad? Had I taken advantage and he was going to call sexual assault at me? ‘Meet you by the margarita hut again before we leave? I bet you could use a drink.’
And then I fled, like a coward.
I couldn’t avoid him for the rest of the evening though. As soon as I was finished in the ladies, I grabbed us a bag of hot sugary donuts as a peace offering and headed back to meet him. Hopefully he was feeling better now and not going to throw me into the sea. I was delving inside, breathing in the delicious doughy, crisp scent and nearly screamed as someone caught my elbow.
Stephen dragged me between two of the huts and I had to clutch my donuts to my chest, despite them burning my hand through the paper bag to avoid them being spilled on the ground.
He hemmed me in, one arm either side of me. ‘What was that before?’
‘Hmm…?’ I gave him my best innocent expression.
‘Why did you kiss me on the wheel? You were the one who said no flirting and no funny business. Those were your rules. First it was hand-holding. Now it’s kissing.’
‘It wasn’t a real kiss. It was just a distraction tactic. I figured that having someone as annoying as me lay one on you, would take your mind off your irrational fear.’
‘So, it had nothing to do with being attracted to me?’
‘No.’ And it hadn’t. I hadn’t made the decision to kiss him because I was attracted to him. The last thing I wanted to do was kiss him when I was attracted to him and knew there was absolutely no future in that. Okay, wel
l, maybe not the last thing. But it wasn’t a sensible thing to do. It had been purely an act of kindness – to make up for forcing him on the wheel in the first place.
‘You’ve never considered what it would have been like between us? If it hadn’t all been a ruse on New Year’s Eve? If we had met up and done some of the things we talked about in those messages?’ He smoothed his fingers over a loose strand of my hair. Rather than tuck it behind my ear this time, he followed it down, the pad of his index finger following the line of it from my ear, down my neck. He leaned in closer. ‘Do you remember saying that you wondered what I would taste like? And now you know. Is there anything else you’d like to find out?’
I shook my head. Unable to speak. Mint. He tasted of mint and salt and sin.
‘You haven’t wondered? You haven’t imagined it? Us, skin on skin, a long night ahead of us.’ His fingertip danced along my collarbone and my body warmed in ways that had nothing to do with the summer heatwave, or the bag of hot donuts leaking grease onto my chest.
I closed my eyes for a brief moment and told myself I needed to get it together. This was not going to happen. I was not going to let him seduce me. I was not going to be another conquest he would move on from in a matter of days.
‘I imagined everything,’ I said in a husky whisper that I didn’t have to fake at all. He moved back to look me in the face and the heat in his eyes captured me – almost made me forget I was supposed to be putting him back in his place. How easy it would’ve been to let him kiss me. Properly. But no. I squashed down the part of me that was yearning for it and raised an eyebrow at him, smiling. ‘I’m a writer; I always imagine everything. I imagined what it was like to kiss you. And to slap you around the face. To wake up with you in the morning. To pour a milkshake over your head. Curse of the writer’s brain.’ I shrugged. ‘It doesn’t mean I want any of those things to really come true – after all, I write about murders for a living.’
‘It meant nothing then?’
‘It was exactly what I said it was. A distraction for you. It kinda worked and now we don’t need any more distractions so…’ I made a little motion with my hand for him to back up and give me some space. He obliged, slowly. Thank God, now I could breathe. ‘Donut?’
‘Thank you.’ He grabbed one out of the bag, took a bite. I could see a smile tug at the edge of his mouth and sugar glistening on his lips. My mouth was watering. ‘Have you ever done the donut challenge?’ he asked.
‘Eat a whole one without licking your lips? I’ve heard of it. Seems a bit pointless to me. You should just eat the donut and enjoy it.’
‘Feeling in control of your impulses is a different kind of enjoyment isn’t it? To know you’re not a slave to your biological needs.’
I was putting on my best poker face now. Was he suggesting I was a slave to my sexual urges for him? That I couldn’t control myself around him? Hardly. But arguing the point didn’t seem like it would be useful, so I did a rare thing and kept my lip buttoned.
He took the last bite, still not licking his lips. I was not dying to do it for him. I was not.
‘And then, there’s the increased satisfaction when you decide you can give in. The build-up, the anticipation, makes it all the sweeter.’ He dragged his tongue slowly between his lips and I could feel it down to my toes. Bastard.
‘Well. Whatever floats your boat, I suppose.’ I forced another carefree smile. ‘Shall we go catch the train, now we’re all clear on what I have and haven’t imagined between us and what I will and will definitely not be doing?’
‘Lead the way.’ He swept a gallant arm out and I strolled past him.
I wasn’t sure what it meant that whenever I went on a fact-finding mission with Noelle, I ended up needing a long run the following day to sort my head out. It didn’t even help this time though. Perhaps next time I’d ask Patrick from work to join me on the run, so that I could stop my mind churning over everything, with no one to talk to about it. I could hardly ring Nick up and put him in the middle of it all.
The journey back on the train from Coney Island felt longer than the way there, and that was no small feat, because I hadn’t been looking forward to going at all. But the ride on that D train back to Brooklyn was torture. Thank God Noelle and I weren’t forced to cosy up together because it was crowded. With the hour being later, and it being a weeknight, the train was quieter, and we could each take a seat. Across from each other. She’d spent the first part of the journey with her arms crossed, staring out the window but by the time we’d changed trains she was looking tired and the corners of her mouth were dragging down.
The kiss she’d laid on me on the Wonder Wheel was like the memory of a dream I was grasping at, having been rudely awoken. I’d been so panicked, so down the pit of terror, that I’d hardly registered what she was doing. By the time I’d allowed the soft touch of her lips and the scent of her skin to filter in enough to distract me, she was gone, and the ride was over. I’d never wished more that I wasn’t frightened of heights, so that I could have reacted in the way I truly wanted to and made the most of that kiss.
I felt cheated. And that was a feeling I was getting used to with Noelle. She was a forbidden temptation and she was doing it on purpose. Possibly not with the intention of tormenting me, but it was definitely a side effect she was willing to allow. I wasn’t sure I bought her line about imagining everything between us but not wanting it. If all things were possible, then surely that was too.
But she had laid the ground rules – no flirting – and made it clear she wasn’t interested. No matter how much I wanted to cross the aisle of the train and drag her up from the plastic orange seat to kiss her properly and prove my theory right, I couldn’t do that. I had to respect her wishes.
The text she’d sent me after I’d seen her home and walked back to my own empty apartment only made it worse.
Noelle: I’m sorry I forced you on the wheel
and kissed you while you were defenceless. I
didn’t mean to make things awkward between
us. I just didn’t think. I was hoping that we
were starting to be friends and I don’t want to
have ruined that. Forgive me?
I hadn’t wanted to answer. I didn’t want her to regret it. No. Forcing me onto the wheel, she could regret – but kissing me was something I wanted her to want and the fact that she didn’t, and she just wanted to be friends left me feeling…what was the feeling? Usually I could deal with a woman not wanting me, because I knew it wasn’t the end of the world – eventually we would have gone our separate ways.
But with Noelle I was so keenly aware of the fact that she was attracted to me – I wasn’t an idiot – yet it was undeniable that she didn’t want to be.
Maybe I was finding it hard because I was simultaneously trying to find my father. There were so many things going around my head. This slow reveal of who he really was. The places he’d been, the people he’d known, the impressions he’d left. Charming, a hit with the ladies, a lover of peanut butter, and, of course, he looked just like me. It could have been me they were describing, from those bare details. A man just like me who’d left me behind. My past and my future, some vicious cycle I was trapped in.
At work they were already labelling me that way. Nick was five years younger than me and thinking about getting married. Where was this trail going to lead me? What kind of man would I be faced with when I got to the end of it and was that the same person I would become if I kept up this life of never committing and putting on a charismatic front?
It was no real surprise she only wanted to be friends with me. It was a sensible decision. A generous decision, given the circumstances. I needed to be a bigger person than I felt inclined to be.
Me: It wasn’t your fault, I should’ve told you.
I know you wouldn’t have forced me onto the
wheel if you’d known. You’re forgiven. You
haven’t ruined anything.
Her message
came flying back to me straight away.
Noelle: I’m so glad. D’you want to head over
to Brooklyn tomorrow?
Me: Let’s leave it until the weekend. Saturday
morning if you’re free?
Noelle: Actually, that’s perfect for me. I’ll be
over there anyway. Goodnight.
Me: Night.
Maybe if I couldn’t do romantic relationships, at least I could try to do this.
Chapter Nine
I didn’t know what version of Stephen to expect on Saturday when he called at my apartment. Once my raging libido had calmed the other night, I’d felt pretty rotten. Maybe even like I was gas-lighting him a bit? I needed to stop giving him the wrong impression and then slapping his wrist when he flirted back. It wasn’t fair. So, I’d texted him an apology with a hope that we could be friends. I did enjoy his company. When he wasn’t being a jerk. And I’d noticed the non-jerk moments were stacking up.
Like insisting on walking me home or coming to pick me up. The man had these ingrained manners that I had to admit were nice to be around. He really needn’t have come all the way over to me, when we were heading in the opposite direction to get to Brooklyn, but he said he didn’t mind and I appreciated the gesture. Even if he did turn up at an ungodly hour.
I opened my door to him, wondering if he was going to be friendly, or closed off, or flirtatious and found that, for the most part, he looked worn out. Dark smudges beneath his eyes.
‘You look tired. You should get more sleep, try a lie-in once in a while,’ I joked, letting him in.
‘Why, thank you. You look like you got plenty of sleep – in a hedge.’
I laughed. Friendly banter it was. The relief that he had genuinely put the incident at Coney Island behind us made my smile linger.
‘Miaow. Put those claws back in, kitty; all I need is a hairbrush.’ I rumpled my fingers through my unbrushed hair and caught his eyes tracking the movement before he snapped them away.
‘I’ll make coffee,’ he offered.
