Page 17 of Dual
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 humof 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 throughSix 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.
I should've known Mads would love them, too. Back in the day, there was no dare she wouldn't take. She was always begging me to take her to the more dangerous parts of the city. A guy tried to rob her once, and she chased him and took him down in a flying tackle from behind. She all but scratched his eyes out until he tossed her little purse away from him to get her off him.
She was so wild and free and made me feel like anything was possible.
And a little of that old feeling came back, spending the day with her. The way she threw herself into the experience, so totally reckless and unguarded. The way she clutched my hand on the steepest drops, breathless and laughing, exhilarated in a way that made my chest ache. Seeing her that happy—genuinely happy—does something to me.
I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She's still wearing the outfit Anna dressed in this morning—sort of. Her tight khaki pants now show off too much of her legs after she ripped them to turn them into shorts halfway through the day, and her simple white tank top is slightlydamp from a water ride. Her cardigan is draped over her lap, but she never bothered putting it back on after she took it off. Her feet are bare, sandals discarded somewhere on the floorboard, and her legs are curled up beneath her in the seat.
I feel a deep sense of pride watching her. She's been fearless today.
She trusted me enough to let go, to scream, and to lose control in the best way possible.
I want to hold onto these moments.
