Short story: Ride of my life (now complete!!)

We were nearly at the ride. He asked me about the random who had given me a rose for Valentine's Day and teased me with the random. I realised he was slightly, ever so slightly, jealous. I was instantly annoyed. He had no reason to be jealous of someone who was nobody, nobody as compared to him.

I assured him, earnestly, that the random was only a friend who, as part of silly fresher games, had to get rid of the rose dumped onto him, and chose me only because he knew me. There was nothing, nothing to it. He laughed and said he was only joking. And he shook his head at me, amused.

I knew he was only pretending to be amused. For months after that day, he continued asking me about the random. With the strain in his voice, with the fake nonchalance, the plastic smile and the tight jaw. The random was a heartthrob, very good-looking, with a fleet of admirers. But surely, it was clear enough, I thought I had made it clear enough, that he, he had no reason to be insecure.

In fact, I did find it quite flattering that he was secretly jealous. But I did not want to torment him so, and did my best to clarify the situation.

However, with him pretending to joke and masking his sincere feelings behind the 'cool' mask all the time, it was hard to ever have a serious discussion with him. He never allowed me into his inner world, his contemplations, fears and desires.

He remains to this day, largely a mystery. Yet I know there are things I feel I can sense, almost intuitively. I wonder though if he can sense what I feel.

I digress.

He saw that I was upset, and apologised for teasing me (always so polite and kind), assuring me that he really was joking. He did not have to apologise. I was only upset because I felt that he was. I smiled and he smiled and all was forgotten. And in that moment, I felt words unsaid and feelings unprofessed, powerfully gush through our eyes, before shyly receding as somebody in the group asked us something. (For the record, it wasn't even something remotely important or interesting).

We did sit next to each other in the ride, in the frontmost seats. My eyes teared up in gratitude. I did not deserve this. So much happiness. I felt like a misfit, unworthy. Like I had gatecrashed into a fairytale and had led Prince Charming to believe I was a Princess. It was wrong, but I was too weak, too besotted, to spurn something as beautiful.

"Let's hold hands?" he suggested, casually, with a semblance of spontaneity, that he could not quite pull off.

I was glad he could not see me. We had already sat down in the roller coaster and the protective brace made it impossible for us to see each other. I blushed deeply, smiled widely, and agreed, controlling the excitement in my voice. Trying to feign nonchalance too, I let go of the handle I had already gripped, and placed my hand in his.

We started moving upwards, slowly. I turned towards him, insanely thrilled, knowing that he was there, and that he could not know I was looking in his direction because of the brace. It was oddly reassuring.

As the cars on the motorway became the size of matchboxes, then grapes, and the roller coaster hinged towards the ground, and others behind us gasped and held their breaths... his grip tightened.