Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
And the colors—God, the colors. The whole park is an explosion of gaudy reds, blues, and yellows, clashing together in a chaotic swirl of overstimulation.
A garish cowboy mascot waves from a nearby sign advertising funnel cakes the size of my head. A family in matching neon T-shirts ambles past, the dad already sporting a sunburn while the youngest kid wails about dropping an ice cream cone.
I turn back to Domhnall. "This is hell."
"This is fun," he corrects, grabbing my hand and leading me deeper into the madness.
I grumble under my breath but let him drag me through the park, dodging balloon-wielding toddlers and strollers that seem to appear out of nowhere.
Then he stops in front of a ride entrance. A massive sign looms overhead in icy blue letters: MR. FREEZE: REVERSE BLAST
I narrow my eyes. "What exactly is this?"
Domhnall smirks. "A little warm-up."
"Ha ha." I eye the ride warily. The track stretches up into the sky like a steel nightmare, looping and twisting in ways that defy basic human survival instincts. The cars shoot out of a tunnel backward, hurtling up a 218-foot vertical spike before plummeting down again.
I huff. "This looks dumb."
"Scared?" he teases.
Oh, he did not. I lift my chin. "Of course not. It just seems like a waste of time."
"Then you won't mind riding it." He yanks me forward before I can protest, striding up to the entrance.
The line isn't as long as I imagine it might be in the middle of summer, but it still feels like an eternity. I shift impatiently, tapping my foot against the concrete, watching as the cars launch out of the station with a mechanical roar.
"This is ridiculous," I mutter. "Why would anyone voluntarily wait to be flung through the air like a ragdoll?"
Domhnall chuckles beside me. "You're adorable when you're sulking."
I roll my eyes but don't stop fidgeting. Every time the ride launches, the line inches forward at a snail's pace.
Finally, it's our turn.
Minutes later, I'm strapped in beside Domhnall, the safety harness pressing against my chest. The ride operator gives us a thumbs-up, and a robotic voice crackles over the speakers. "Prepare for launch in three... two..."
Wait. Um, actually, I'm suddenly rethinking this. I look around for the attendant to tell them I'd like to get off.
"One..."
The world blurs.
I lurch back into my seat as we rocket out of the station in reverse, my stomach slamming somewhere near my spine. The track rushes past in a neon blur, and for half a second, I'm weightless, my breath trapped in my throat. The cold metal of the safety harness presses against me, the force of the acceleration making it impossible to move.
And then we hit the spike.
The car shoots straight up, gravity yanking at my body as my stomach does a full somersault.
Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh—
My fingers claw for something—anything—and instinctively, I grab Domhnall's hand, squeezing so hard I feel his knuckles pop.
The pause at the peak lasts a second too long. Just enough time for my brain to catch up and realize how high up we are. And then—
We plummet.
I scream. Loud. The kind of scream that could summon the dead. My heart catapults into my throat as the ride dives downward at an obscene speed, twisting and flipping as the track whips past in a chaotic blur.
The wind rips at my face, my hair flying in every possible direction.
By the time we finally slow down, coming back into the station, my chest is heaving, and my grip on Domhnall's hand is white-knuckled.
I turn to him, breathless, my pulse still hammering.
He grins, the smug bastard. "That dumb enough for you?"
I don't answer. I just throw my head back and laugh, the adrenaline still singing in my veins.
Maybe, just maybe, this isn't the worst idea he's ever had. There are a million other things I should be worrying about.
But fuck it.
Fine. I'll just have fun today.
"Again!" I cry as soon as I get my voice back.
SIX
DOMHNALL
The hum of the highway fills the quiet space between us, low and steady, a rhythmic companion to the soft bass of cellos from the classical piece playing through the car speakers.
The sky outside is a deep navy, pinpricked with stars. The occasional glow of headlights from passing cars illuminates Mads's face in fleeting glimpses. Her cheekbones are still flushed from the excitement of the day, and her lips are parted slightly as she gazes out the window.
She's tired. I can see it in the way her body slumps into the leather seat and in the slow, lazy way she curls a strand of hair around her finger. It's been a long day—rushing through Six Flags, screaming on roller coasters, stuffing ourselves with fried food and soda until our stomachs hurt.
Mads surprised me. If I'm being completely honest, the day was a way to distract her from any other devious plans she might have come up with, although I wasn't lying. After I moved to Dallas and got serious enough with my business that I couldn't street race on the weekends anymore, I got addicted to roller coasters for a little while.