Page 116 of Undisputed Chaos
This was going to be fucking fun.
The coaster was one of those old death traps, all rickety rails and questionable safety protocols.
Definitely the kind of ride that violated several standards and definitely hadn't been inspected in a while.
We climbed into the cars, and I felt that familiar thrill of impending chaos. Isla settled beside me, her hand finding mine as the safety bar clicked into place.
Behind us, Jax was frantically trying to protect his carefully styled hair with his hood while Estelle laughed at his vanity.
Connor and Sierra brought up the rear, her frame practically disappearing next to his bulk.
The coaster lurched into motion, climbing that first impossible hill with the grinding determination of machinery held together with duct tape.
The carnival spread out below us, all colored lights and tiny figures moving like ants through the chaos.
Then we crested the hill, and gravity took over.
The plunge was pure madness—a symphony of screaming metal and human voices as we hurtled through curves that physics suggested shouldn't exist.
Isla's grip on my hand tightened, her laughter mixing with the wind and the clatter of wheels on track.
Behind us, Jax's stressed swearing provided a counterpoint to Estelle's delighted shrieks.
Something about his "fucking hair" and "who designed this death trap," punctuated by Estelle's breathless screams.
When we finally rolled to a stop, Jax looked like he'd been hit by a tornado. His hood had blown back, his perfect hair now resembling something that belonged on a scarecrow.
"You look like shit,” Connor observed with what passed for humor.
"I look wind-blown and godly,” Jax corrected, running fingers through the mess. "There's a difference."
Estelle rose on her toes to kiss his jaw. "You look perfect."
And just like that, vanity was forgotten.
We piled out of the cars, high on adrenaline and the brand of insanity that came from surviving rides that probably shouldn't be legal.
The girls were electric, chattering about the loops and drops while plotting their next assault on the carnival's offerings.
"Haunted house," Sierra declared, pointing to a structure that looked like it had been designed by someone with a serious grudge against building codes.
"I want to see you guys scared."
Connor's expression suggested that wasnotlikely, but he didn't argue. Neither did Jax, though he was secretly still trying to restore some order to his hair.
The haunted house was a maze of mirrors and scares, filled with fake cobwebs and teenagers in monster makeup jumping out at strategic moments.
The kind of place that relied more on disorientation than genuine terror.
The girls disappeared into the maze ahead of us, their laughter echoing off the mirrored walls.
We followed, three grown men who’d faced down actual monsters, suddenly reduced to stumbling around like idiots.
"This is ridiculous," Jax muttered, walking face-first into a wall. "Who designed these things?"
"Sadists," I grinned, my own reflection multiplying infinitely around me. "Sadists with a sense of humor."
We'd been in the maze for maybe five minutes when we collectively realized we'd lost track of the girls.
