Page 65 of Drop the Mitts

“No, it’s fine. This isn’t about me. This is about you and Country and Hope. I’m just glad to be here.”

Jenna beamed at her. “I’m so glad you came.”

Grace waited a few more moments, then when the waiting became theoretically more unbearable than the sliding, shehopped up and walked over to the chairs. Megan was perched at the edge of a lounge chair beside Rhonda, talking to André on the next chair over. Grace’s ribs transformed into medieval torture devices, pinching her lungs.

“Ready!” she wheezed.

André looked up. He set down his drink and stood, not even waiting to hear the end of Megan’s sentence. Heat swelled through Grace’s chest as he walked toward her. Damn it. She wanted him to look at her like that. Like she was the only one in this whole water park. Like he wanted to press her up against the tiki pole and?—

Grace jumped as André leaned over and his hand grazed her thigh. “Sorry.” He straightened. “Don’t think this is yours.” He held up a sopping Band-Aid. Grace nearly dry-heaved, and André laughed out loud before dropping it in the bin. “C’mon.”

He led her to the stairs, and by the time they reached the second platform, her calves were burning and the air felt ten degrees thinner.

"You okay back there?" André called over his shoulder, not even winded.

"I'm fantastic," she panted. “Really enjoying the ambiance. Love the scent of chlorine and urine in the morning.”

He grinned over his shoulder. “That’s better.”

“What’s better?”

“You were being all quiet earlier. You’re better when you’re pissy.”

Grace’s cheeks flushed and she made more of a concerted effort to not stare directly at his ass in case he turned around again. They turned a corner, and she could see the top of the structure now—a curved platform with a translucent tube coiled around it like a trap. She paused, her chest tightening.

No. Not just a tube.A loop.Like a rollercoaster except withnoseatbelts. Just wet skin and gravity and what was clearly alawsuit waiting to happen. She squinted at the sign posted at the top.

Cyclone Surge: This ride contains a near-vertical drop and full loop. Participants must weigh between 45-115 kgs and be free from the following conditions: high blood pressure, heart problems, pregnancy, spinal injuries, recent surgeries, vertigo, or general fear of death.

“Pretty sure three of those apply after climbing the stairway to heaven.” Grace leaned on the railing, then thought about how many prepubescent hands had touched it and straightened.

André turned to face her. “Don’t tell me you’re chickening out.”

Her brain scrambled for an exit strategy, but surrounded by twelve year olds who looked completely nonplussed, she struggled to land on something. “Not chickening out.”

The line crept forward.

“Perfect.” André shifted the waistband of his trunks.

“Can you—?” Grace turned toward the rail, looking out over the wave pool that was now just a normal swimming hole.

“Can I, what?”

Grace gave him a look. He waited. Finally, she pointed and lowered her voice, “Just stop messing with those?”

André looked down. “My shorts?”

“Yes. Your shorts.” He frowned, and Grace moved closer so the entire queue couldn’t hear her. “They’re fine. You don’t need to move them every two seconds.”

André’s mouth quirked. “Grace.”

“What?”

He lowered his head. “If you can’t stop looking at my shorts, that’s a you problem.”

“I’m not looking! I’m just right here and when your hand goes there, I can’t help but?—”

“When it goes where? Here?” André looped his thumb between his stomach and the waistband. He tugged, making a gap between his skin and the fabric.

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