Page 43 of Most Eligible
“Roll—roll!” I hear Lainey whisper behind us. My eyes flick to the side as a camera looms over my shoulder. I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. My panic is exactly what they want. It’s not a coincidence that this date is the embodiment of all my worst fears; it’s manipulation of the highest degree. I’d almost admire Lainey if I weren’t on the receiving end of her sick games.
“Totally,” I answer, smiling. But if I don’t give Lainey something, she’ll just keep pushing. “I’m just a little afraid of heights, is all.”
“Figures,” Addison mutters.
I ignore her and look only at Roland, whose face falls into lines of concern. “Oh, Georgia.” He steps forward and takes my shoulders in his hands, my face tipping up to his. “I’m so sorry—I had no idea.”
Of course he didn’t.
“Well, she doesn’t have to come,” Addison points out.
To his credit, Roland ignores her. “We don’t have to do this.”
One glance at Addison gets my head back in the game. I bite my lip, faking an Oscar-worthy chin-wobble. “I’ll be okay if you hold my hand,” I say quietly to Roland.
Roland gently takes my hand between his. “Take your time, Georgia Peach, no rush.”
Now that I have an anchor, I feel calmer, but I’m still embarrassed by how deep the panic has lodged.
When I was younger, I thought that if I could’ve just toughed it out, maybe I would’ve been saved some heartache. But once my mom saw what a wreck I was after the amusement park, she snapped.What were youthinking? Ever since you moved out, it’s like you don’t even know her.Meanwhile, I retreated deeper into myself.
I squeeze Roland’s hand and shut out the memories. “Let’s do this.”
The cameras follow us as we walk up to the Ferris wheel. Roland’s hand is warm in mine, and despite the man attached to it, it calms me enough that I stop shaking.
Roland steps into the car and sits down, pulling me onto the bench next to him. Throwing her long hair over her shoulder, Addison slides in opposite us and crosses her legs so her foot is brushing Roland’s thigh. She never quits—I’ll give her that.
As the seat belts click into place, I throw one last look at the producers. Lainey gives me a brief nod, and my chest flushes. I’m not the first woman to be put in this position—Love Shack’s history of exploiting women’s fears is longer than Taylor Swift’s discography—and I won’t be the last. But for now, I’ve won Lainey’s approval.
The feeling of triumph lasts about two microseconds before the wheel starts up, and nausea rushes through me. I grip the waist belt, but it’s not sturdy enough and the next thing my hand finds is Roland’s thigh.
He covers my hand with his own. “It’s going to be okay,” he says gently.
I force myself to look at him, to focus on anything but the anxiety raging through my body. The wheel creaks to a halt at the top of its arc with a jolt. After a minute, the rocking slows until we’re almost still. At least until Roland adjusts in his seat and puts his arm around my shoulders.
I let out a little shriek and bury my face in his shirt, my throat squeezing painfully in fear.
“Jesus,” Addison mutters. I almost feel bad for her—it can’t be easy to watch the man you’re dating cuddle another woman. “Get a room.”
Roland ignores her and bends his head over mine.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs. “Come on, look at the view.”
This is just about the worst thing he could say, save forHey, let’s jump into the ocean! Right now!The view is the whole issue—the fact that we’re a hundred feet off the ground, ideally poised to die at any second.
He pulls at my chin, and I peek my head out. “Deep breaths, okay?” he says quietly.
I keep my eyes locked on his as I take a few slow breaths. I hate to admit it, but he is a comforting presence. After a few seconds, I chance a look beyond him; the view really is quite nice. The ocean spreads below us, rippling quietly. Ahead, the sun bathes the whole scene in clementine hues just a few shades brighter than my shirt.
“Are those…” I point to the dark storm clouds hovering on the horizon.
“Don’t worry about that,” Roland says quickly, leaning forward to block my view. The remote-operated cameras attached to the sides of the cart swivel as he gets back to regularly scheduled programming. “I’m so glad we have this chance to talk,” he begins. I still think those are storm clouds, but I try to focus on the conversation. “I know things have been tense between you two.”
Have they, though? Sure, sending a tennis ball flying at someone’s face isn’t exactly a sign of friendship, but I thought we’d moved past that.
“Georgia,” he says. There’s a small crease between his eyes, not unlike the one that seems to be permanently etched into Rhett’s face. My mouth goes dry. Am I being sent home? But if so, what an inconvenient place to break up with someone, unless he planson hedging until we get back to the ground. Or making out with Addison and completely ignoring me. Or pushing me off the—
“Do you think Addison hurt you on purpose during tennis last week?”
