“Thanks,” I said, suppressing my laughter.
His smile fell away, and so did mine. The wicked glint lingered in his eyes—a permanent reminder that there was something about him I shouldn’t trust—but I could see something smoldering in them, something that I’m certain reflected in my own eyes, and my breath came out more slowly.
Gabe leaned in, kissing me on the mouth. He let go of my hand, and his arm slid around my waist. The ride jerked as it began to move again, swaying our gondola, but it didn’t make us break apart. If anything, it only made us more fervent, knowing that we only had a short time left on this ride, a short time left to feel the strength of his arm around me, the heat of his lips against mine.
It was when the ride stopped again, almost halfway back down, that he pulled away. To kiss me, he’d turned sideways on the bench, facing me, and his arm rested on the back of the gondola. I leaned against the side, smiling at him and trying to catch my breath.
He licked his lips, then took my hand again. As he entwined his fingers with mine, he looked down at our hands. For a few moments, neither of us said anything, content to let our bodies cool.
“I was afraid I wouldn’t see you again,” Gabe said finally.
“Me too,” I admitted.
I wanted to believe that I didn’t care. That making out with a guy, then leaving him behind when I moved on to a different city was fine with me. And maybe it was, most of the time.
But pretending I hadn’t felt a pang of regret and remorse as I’d snuck out of Gabe’s room this morning would be a lie.
Gabe looked up at me. “Are you glad you did?”
“Yeah, I am.” I smiled. “What about you?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’m leaning toward maybe,” he said with a smirk.
I laughed but he silenced me with another kiss. It wasn’t as intense as the first one, but that didn’t mean it didn’t taste just as sweet.
“Should we go again?” Gabe asked as we came nearer to the bottom. “We should go again. If I give the guy twenty dollars, do you think he’ll let us go around again without getting in line?”
“He’ll do it for ten,” I said. The guy running the ride would actually probably do it for even less than that, but if Gabe was that easy to part with his money, I didn’t want to stiff him on a tip.
Gabe dug in his pocket, and when he pulled out a ten-dollar bill, I was beginning to think that he might have a never-ending supply of cash in there. When we reached the end of the ride, Gabe offered him the money, and the guy gladly let us go again.
“Where were we?” Gabe asked as soon as the gondola rose higher in the night sky, and turned back to face me.
He pressed me against the side of the gondola as he kissed me. Part of me knew I should be afraid. We were nearing sixty feet off the ground, and we were leaning back over the side of a swaying car.
But I didn’t care. I barely even noticed.
When he stopped kissing me, his arm was still around me, and he smiled crookedly as he stared into my eyes. Then he leaned back, putting what little space he could between us.
“You know, since I have you hostage on this ride, I should be using the time to find out more of the deep, dark secrets that you refuse to tell me,” Gabe said.
I laughed. “Why are you so obsessed with me having secrets?”
“Because you have them,” he insisted with an unrelenting grin.
“How do you know?”
“Am I wrong?” he countered.
“There’s nothing deep or dark about me,” I replied evasively. “I bet you’re the one with all the secrets.”
“Never.” Gabe tried to look me in the eyes when he said it, but there was a subtle shift, a glimmer of something dark, and I knew he was lying.
“No, I can tell. I can see it in your eyes,” I told him. “You’re hiding something.”
He didn’t deny it this time. “So are you.”
“Okay.” I folded my arms over my chest and stared expectantly at him. “So tell me your deepest, darkest secret.”
“I…” He started to say something, but his expression became pained. He turned away and leaned forward on the railing in front of us, resting his arms on it. “I would if I could.”
“Why not?” I asked, surprised that he was admitting hiding anything.
“We’ve only … this is what? Our second date?”
“We’re counting last night as a date?” I asked, thinking of my earlier conversation with Roxie.
“Any night that ends in kissing is a date,” he assured me with a smile. “How about on our…” He paused, thinking. “Fifth date, we tell each other our big secrets.”
“You think we’ll make it to a fifth date?” I tried to make a joke of it, but my smile felt forced.