Roller Coaster Ride

You Need A Pair (~Lovi~)

"You need a pair to ride this roller coaster," the man tells me apologetically. Then he turns to the line and raises his voice. "Any singles here?"

Two teens grab their friend's hand and lift it into the air. A worker goes out, fetches the embarrassed teen, and drags him up to the front of the line. The couple in the car gets out, and the man gestures. "Get in."

The teen slides in. I swallow a complaint and sit down as far from him as I can get. They click the bar down, and the car slides forward and stops to let the next pair off.

The teen is still bright red, and his eyes angle away from me. The first thought that comes to mind is social anxiety. He won't speak, he won't even look over at me. He's too nervous.

I take a deep breath and offer my right hand. "Lovino."

He goes a deeper shade of red, but feathery fingers briefly close on my hand. "Toni," he answers meekly.

He pulls back and looks away quickly. The roller coaster edges forward a little again.

My tense body relaxes a little into the seat, no longer cringing away from the strange new teenage boy. Maybe he won't be so bad. He's not a bully, that's for sure.

Toni is quiet for most of the time the roller coaster inches forward. But slowly, his grip on the bar loosens and some natural color returns to his face. He breathes deeply and relaxes into the seat. He's no longer freaking out. The fact that I'm not forcing him to talk seems to help.

He finally gets to the point that he shoots a shy glance my way of his own accord. That's the cue that he's okay now.

"First time on a roller coaster?" I ask.

He blushes and nods. I flash a shy smile. "First time is always the worst."

He shivers and doesn't answer. Finally the entire contraption starts to roll, to chug its merry way up the giant hill. I swallow the sinking feeling in my stomach, breathe, and close my eyes.

It's quiet a moment, then we're falling. I peek over at Toni to see how he reacts; his eyes go wide, but the wind steals his brief shriek. The coaster zips around a corner, flips us upside down, and twirls a couple times. He's tense again, but he's not screaming. His knuckles are white on the bar, but he doesn't protest. He squeezes his eyes shut like I did on my first ride, and he struggles to breathe.

I reach over and lay a light hand over his. "Breathe," I remind him.

He blushes and his eyes peek over at me. He struggles another breath into his lungs. I breathe, too, just in time for the roller coaster to flip upside down again.

His face pales a little, but he manages to breathe. His hand turns over under mine, and his thin fingers latch onto my hand. Our hands fall from the bar to sit between us, and he looks a tiny bit more comfortable than he was a moment ago. I'm not entirely comfortable with this, but I can suck up a little nerves to help him out.

We go through one more time, then the coaster stops to let people off. The people in front of us leap from their seats with gleeful grins and head straight back into line.

The coaster scoots up, and the attendant lifts the bar to let us off. I slide from the seat, and he follows. He still doesn't let go of my hand, and he's trembling slightly. This ride isn't the greatest coaster for a first-timer.

We slide off and out from the ride, and he blinks a couple times and shakes his head. His grip on my hand loosens slightly, and his fingers twitch with unease. I drag him over to one of the benches and pull him down to sit for a minute, rather than encouraging another ride like someone more extroverted and less socially anxious would've done.