Their Freefall At Last by Julie Olivia

27

Ruby

I’ve barely talked to Bennett in the two months since we arrived home from Florida. Everything feels wrong, and nothing makes sense. It’s like my dominant hand has been ripped from me, and I’ve been left to write messy, illegible scribbles instead.

I should be enjoying Honeywood’s Employee Night, even as a non-employee. Normally, I prefer Honeywood Fun Park at night. It’s the only time there are beautiful, bright lights on the roller coasters as they roar by, screams from employees who haven’t lost the thrill, and the smell of popcorn and booze in the air.

But tonight, I’m the buzzkill friend.

I’m just as much to blame for my and Bennett’s silence. I haven’t sent any meaningful texts from my end. It didn’t seem fair. It’d be rude to coordinate a conversation with someone who ripped out their heart for you when you still have no clue on how to mend it back together.

Some days, I wake up and think, Let’s take the risk. Those days, I start to clear a place in my closet for Bennett. I complete a workout video. I buy doughnuts for my office of curmudgeonly engineers who don’t say thank you, but who cares?It’s a good day! One morning, I even ordered a large case of his strawberry-scented shampoo with overnight delivery because he’d be moving in soon, right? I was determined this was the start of our forever.

But then there are other days. On the bad days, I practice I’m sorry in the mirror. I work from home and don’t shower. I zone out during meetings, and then my boss emails me things like, I’m gonna need you to speak up more. I take those bottles of strawberry shampoo I impulsively ordered and inhale their scent like a drug, and then I take over-the-counter pain meds because I accidentally gave myself a headache from basically snorting hair products.

The days mix and match in a messy arrangement until I’m still dressed in a tacky attire of indecision.

I glance up at Bumblebee’s Flight, the first roller coaster I ever laid eyes on. I was once scared of this beast, too, but I took a risk and rode it, hand in hand, with my best friend. Why can’t I take that same hand-in-hand risk with my best friend once more?

Maybe it’s a good day. Maybe we can do this.

But then I remember the design of these beasts. There are precautions, fail-safes … there is nothing else more dependable than a roller coaster, as long as it’s operated correctly. Maybe that’s why I like them so much. I’ve never been good with gambles, and choosing to date my best friend is the biggest gamble of all.

Okay, so maybe today is a bad day instead.

I inhale sharply as someone else’s arms wrap around my waist, and a chin rests on my head. I’d recognize those long limbs anywhere.

“Hi, Lorelei.”

“You’ve been grumpy lately.” She pouts. “You’re never grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy.” I laugh, and it’s definitely too forced.

Lorelei’s hum vibrates from her chin to my head.

“Something is up with you. And where’s Bennett, by the way?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

I would laugh at her clear confusion if it didn’t also make my heart snag too.

“No, I don’t know where Bennett is,” I admit.

“Huh.”

I get it. I always know Bennett’s location, like I’m some Bennett-Only GPS. Heck, if it were any other week, we would have driven here together. But I had to find a parking spot by myself for the first time, and some teenage girl asked for my employee ID at least five times before Quinn walked by to save me.

“Well, you know what will make you feel not so grumpy?” Lorelei asks.

“I’m not grumpy,” I counter.

“Riding on The Grizzly.”

Lorelei and her obsession with that roller coaster is one of my favorite things about her. But right now, the thought of getting slung around that first harsh turn makes my already-nauseous brain more sensitive.

I lean into her arms. “How about I watch you ride it?”

She hums again. “That seems less fun.”

“I’ll hold my hands up at the same time you do,” I say. “I can already imagine my stomach flipping.”

But then my stomach suddenly is flip-flopping, and it isn’t because of an imagined roller coaster; it’s due to the very real emotional ride my body takes when my best friend walks through Honeywood’s iron gates.

Bennett takes one step at a time, feet turned out in his usual world-owning stance, large hands tucked in the pockets of his black jeans. He’s searching the crowd and looking for me, just as he always does, and when our eyes find each other, my heart skips a million beats, just like it always does.

He slowly raises a hand in the air. I mirror the motion with my own.

An olive branch.

“Bennett!” Lorelei calls. “Ride The Grizzly with me!”

He bends his head to the ground with a chuckle. “I just got here. At least let me grab some whiskey first.”

This is all too casual and familiar, but maybe it should be. At least until we can get time alone to talk. Until I can tell him what’s been haunting me—that the way he walks, talks, and simply exists is both my poison and my antidote.

It’s a good day.

Today is one of the good days.

Okay, so, if we do this, there have to be rules. We’ll take this process slowly. Maybe we’ll even keep it a secret for a bit, so we can navigate the nuances of being a best friend couple rather than just a couple of best friends. We can stay in our safe bubble before the world has the potential to pop it.

Yes. That could work.

“You’re late, mister!” Theo says, leaving The Bee-fast Stop with an iced tea in her hand.

She jabs her finger into Bennett’s chest, and the gesture has my heart twisting. Theo always touches Bennett—heck, she touches everyone in that casual way of hers—but it bothers me tonight. It bothers me because it should be me touching him.

I open my mouth to say something equally snarky, but the group is already walking past me, so I follow behind. Our group of five walks to the back of the park in the direction of The Grizzly, chatting about nothing and everything. I hear maybe five percent of it because I’m close to my best friend and I have no idea how to react.

We file through the queue, jumping over ropes and hopping over the track. If all my friends weren’t some form of management or senior leader at the park, I might feel weird about our delinquency. But, as it is, we’re the same five people we’ve always been—doing whatever we like in this small-town theme park of ours.

But we’re different now, aren’t we?

I steal a glance at Bennett as he leans against the railing. He’s flashing a bright white grin at Quinn as she shuffles into the operator’s booth with Theo. Then, for a second, his eyes flash to me before darting away, his smile fading with it.

No. Please no.

“Ooh, let’s turn the lights off!” Quinn says, pressing a button that, with a click, turns off the ride’s floodlights and floor illumination.

Lorelei, thrilled, hops into the front row of the train.

Her hands fly in the air. “Go, go, go!”

Theo and Quinn each mash a button, and Lorelei is flying down the track, whipping around the corner toward the lift hill.

I could spend all night soaking in my friends’ laughter, the carefree way we all exist, like puzzle pieces joined perfectly together. But I have other things to do.

It’s going to be a good day.

I stare at Bennett until he finally looks at me, peering over through hooded brown eyes. This time, he doesn’t look away. But he doesn’t seem happy either.

I pretend to kick a rock to exaggerate the awkwardness between us, to lighten the mood. A low, rumbling chuckle leaves his throat, like the rev of his motorbike. I miss his bike.

I take steps forward until I’m close enough to smell the strawberries I love so much—so much better than from the bottle—then pause in front of him.

“Hey.” My voice is quieter than it should be, given all the loud roller coasters around us.

I expect him to lean in to hear me better, but he doesn’t. A sliver of disappointment cracks through my confidence.

“Hi,” is all he replies.

“How’ve you been?”

“Good. You?”

“Yep. Been good.”

Nope. Been bad. I’ve been horrible.

And now, we’re having small talk. I don’t know how to have small talk without wearing a blazer. Bennett and I have always turned everything, including the mundane weather, into a funny gag. But here we are, using the same boring sentences I use at work with colleagues I only vaguely like.

We’re quiet for a couple more seconds, and then he pulls in a breath and says, “Listen, I have something to tell you.”

Bennett swallows, then levels a look at me.

Oh no. Bad day. It’s a bad day, isn’t it?

I don’t like it. My heart doesn’t either. It’s beating wildly and then—

CRACK!

At first, I think it’s the sound of my heart shattering.

But then I hear a separate scream coming from The Grizzly.