Raising my hand again, I call out to the attendant. Omar, I think his name badge said.
“What are you doing?” Sage hisses. “Stop it!”
“If you want me to stop, you need to tell me what’s wrong. Otherwise we’re getting off this coaster. Now.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit.” I catch Omar’s eye, and he nods to let me know he sees me from where he’s making sure two preteens are tightly fastened. “Are you afraid of roller coasters?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I mean, I don’t know! I’ve never been on one!” Now she looks as mad as she does embarrassed.
“Never?” I ask, totally incredulous.
“Never.” She crosses her arms over her chest, looks away.
“Not even at Disneyland or the state fair, when you were a kid?”
“Never,” she repeats.
“Wow. Do you—”
“No.”
“Are you sure? We can—”
Omar chooses that moment to interrupt.
“Is there a problem, sir?” His eyes are wide and his voice is squeaking a little, which can mean only one thing. He recognizes me.
Sage realizes it, too, and she glares at me. Mouths, Don’t you dare.
And I get it. I do. The last thing she wants to be known as is Shawn Wilson’s plus one, who punked out on the roller coaster at Belmont Park. But the last thing I want to be known as is the guy who terrorized his woman on their first real date.
Which leaves us at an impasse, at least until she smiles at Omar and says, “We’re good, thanks. Shawn here is a little afraid of roller coasters but I think I’ve got him calmed down.”
Omar’s eyes nearly fall out of his head as they bounce between the two of us. I know the look—it’s the one I’ve been wearing pretty much since I first set eyes on Sage in that damn bar. It’s also the look of a rabid social media commenter, one who will be posting on Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter and everywhere else imaginable about what a pussy I am the second this train leaves the station.
The only question is, am I man enough to take the blame for this little debacle if it means saving Sage a little embarrassment. And the answer to that question is abso-fucking-lutely.
“She’s right,” I tell him with a sheepish grin. “Roller coasters scare the hell out of me. Can you get us out of here?”
“No!” Sage says, hand resting on my stomach as if to hold me in place. “You’ve got this, right?”
I lift a brow at her. “Do I?”
“You do.”
“Okay, then.” I look back at Omar, who can’t seem to decide whether he wants to act cool or take a pic and beg for an autograph. “Looks like I’ve got this after all. Thanks for the help, though.”
“Are you sure?” Omar snaps into theme-park-hero role in zero seconds flat. “Because I can unlock the bars and get you out, Mr. Wilson. It’s no trouble at all. I just need to go over to the control panel. It’ll take two seconds.”
I glance at Sage, who shakes her head subtly, before turning back to the kid.
“No need for that, Omar.” I make sure to use the kid’s name—it’s a little enough thing to do—and sure enough his chest puffs out, and he starts grinning like crazy. “My girlfriend’s got me all straightened out.”