Everlark one shots and plot twists

Carnival

The Roller Coaster: Death

The girl looked to be his age, around seventeen. But she choked that orange ticket in her fist the way a child would clutch the last of their candy bar, the top peeking out from between her bunched fingers. She stood ahead of him in line, waiting for a seat on the roller coaster. But when the couple wedged between him and her began throwing verbal punches about who sacrifices more for whom, she turned around to scowl at them.

That's when her gaze met his. The jolt of contact was officially marked by the crack and slam of two bumper cars somewhere nearby. It was as close to lightning as they would get on this ripe summer evening.

She was beautiful. Her irises were the sterling silver of good luck coins. Her cheeks colored, which was either a textbook blush or a reflection of the cotton-candy-pink bulbs pulsing around them from the metropolis of carnival attractions. Her lips curved upward like an amusement ride of their own. One that he would empty his wallet for, would purchase an endless roll of tickets in order to enjoy.

She caught herself smiling at him. That smile dangled at the end of a fish hook, right in front of him, but she struggled to reel it in. Forgetting the grouchy couple, she averted her eyes and turned away. She flipped her dark braid over her shoulder and played with its tail.

When her turn came to get on the coaster, it took one question from the sunburn-faced kid operating it to change everything. "Any single riders?"

The boy and girl were paired together and squashed into a compact car. While the girl made a point of staring at the boy's shoes, he basked in her profile. How intriguing for anyone to come to a carnival alone. He had his own reason but wondered about hers.

Located in the center of the Capitol, the park was a spectacle of popsicle-colored lights and kinetic energy. Pumping, revolving machines going round and round, up and down like giant mechanical toys. Giddy shrieks and terrible pop music. Microphoned voices scratching through the air, telling people to watch their step.

The girl's arm brushed against his. A clusterfuck of activity set the boy's heart bungee-jumping from one end of his body to the other. It's true what they say about love at first sight, he thought. It actually happens sometimes.

During the safety check, the operator thrust the handlebar down onto the girl and boy's laps. The girl's face paled. She clutched the bar, her eyes widening when the train-themed coaster grumbled to life.

And finally, the boy found his voice. "Are you scared?"

And she found hers. "Shitless."

"I'm Peeta," he said without pacing himself.

"Katniss," she croaked.

"Scared of heights, Katniss?"

"Scared of death, actually."

Maybe it was her terror causing her to be so candid, Peeta guessed. Or maybe she had nothing to lose by being honest to a stranger. He liked it, either way.

In a rehearsed but toneless I've-got-a-crappy-job-so-don't-bother-me chant, the sunburn-faced operator droned on as though his very soul was absent. He warned patrons to keep their arms and feet inside the vehicle.

"Don't worry. I'm here. I'm not scared of death," Peeta said.

This earned him a frown, the first authentic face-to-face moment they'd shared so far. "You probably have no reason to think about it much."

He squinted. "Who would spend all their time doing that?"

She didn't respond. The coaster jerked forward and sailed down the tracks, a gust of wind slapping their cheeks as they rounded a corner. A crisscross grid of rails caged them in.