“One of us has to be the single rider,” she says.

“I'll do it, I don't care,” I say as we shuffle down the narrow line, careful not to touch the bateria-laden, metal pole that separates us from the rest of the crowd. It's hot and stuffy in here, the small fans located every few feet doing little to stir the summer air.

We reach the front of the line and are instructed to go to lane 1 and 2. Lane 1 is the front car.

“I am definitely not riding in the front,” he says.

“Me neither,” she says, “I will pee myself.”

“I'll ride in the front,” I say, walking into the stall and waiting for the ride to come thundering into place.

It does, pushing humid air into my face and lungs, sweat rolling down my neck and back. The previous riders get off and I step into the ride and sit down, putting my sunglasses into the front pocket and pulling the shoulder harness down across my chest. 

“Single rider! I need a single rider!”

An employee is shouting to everyone in line, looking for someone to ride with me. That's not…embarrassing.

“It's okay, I can ride by myself,” I say, shouting over the roar of the coaster, the buzzing of the crowd waiting their turn.

“You can't ride single in the front car,” he says, turning back to the crowd and shouting, “I need a single rider, here! Anyone single to ride!”

“Oh god,” I hear my friends say behind me.

And then he walks up, a tall, pale creature unlike anyone I've ever seen. He's inexplicably stylish in a muggy sea of baggy cargo shorts and souvenir tees. His shorts are tailored and crisp, his white t-shirt skimming across his broad shoulders and he has a small, silk scarf tied around his neck. He's perfection, hair swept up off his forehead and eyes the color of the sea. I'm staring. I shouldn't be staring.

He gets down into the seat next to me and pulls down the harness. The ride starts to chug up the hill and his hands grip the harness so hard I can see the veins in his knuckles. The ride clicks and jerks its way to the top of the hill and we hang, suspended for a moment, before it slowly tips over and begins the death drop back down to the ground before spinning and twisting and curving into a frenzy. I'm laughing. I always laugh on roller coasters, something I inherited from my mother.

My seat-mate is screaming. 

But it's not happy screaming, not the kind of screams you typically hear on rides that twist your guts into a knotted mess. He's petrified. I can't look at him, my head glued to the back of the seat from the overwhelming speed. I reach over and grab his hand.

Seconds later we rush into the station, the ride jerking to a stop, harnesses releasing from their locks. I let go of his hand and push the harness up and move to get out of the car. I turn and see that he's still sitting there, not moving.

“You okay?” I say, reaching out to pull up his harness.

He looks at me, his perfect hair now wild, his ocean eyes watery. “They dared me. They said I wouldn't do it but I did. I did it.”

“You sure did,” I say, taking his hand and helping him out of the car. His legs falter, a tell-tale wobble of the virgin rider. “Are you alright?”

He looks at me, our hands still linked, his lips parted in a question. “I don't…know? I feel like my insides have been rearranged.”

“It'll pass,” I say, nudging him towards the exit where my friends are waiting for me.

“I'm Kurt,” he says, squeezing my hand as we walk down the exit ramp. “Thanks for riding with me.”

“It's nice to meet you, Kurt. I'm Blaine.”

“Blaine,” he says, smiling, like we're old friends. “Would you like to go again?”

His eyes are bright and beautiful and I fear I may be falling a little bit in love with him.

“Yes,” I say.