Page 9 of Slapshot Kiss

His gaze stays on mine, unwavering. "But we're getting off this ride together."

Something in my chest loosens.

Just a little.

And maybe Wyatt hasn’t heard the other part of my confession?

But then his brow furrows, like he's replaying the whole sentence in his head.

"Wait," he says quietly.

His expression shifts from concern to confusion, then to something I can't quite read.

"...You've never been kissed?"

I squeeze my eyes shut. So he did hear the whole sentence. "Well, thanks. At least you're not making a big deal out of it."

"Quinn, I'm serious. How has nobody kissed you?"

I crack one eye open just enough to glare at him. Considering every muscle in my body is locked with terror, it's about the best I can manage.

"Apparently nobody's ever felt like it."

He studies me for a long moment before quietly saying, "I find that very hard to believe."

A fresh wave of embarrassment crashes over me.

"Well, believe it." I gesture vaguely around us. "I'm going to die up here, never having been kissed, and that'll be it. My entire romantic résumé is just one big blank page."

"You're not going to die." He says it simply. "The wheel is stuck, not broken. There's a difference."

My breathing is still shallow, every inhale catching halfway into my lungs. I know his words should comfort me, but somehow they don’t.

He must see that, because his expression softens.

Then he says something that steals every remaining coherent thought from my brain. "Would you like me to help you fix that?"

I blink. "What?"

"The unkissed part." He's not smiling. He’s simply looking at me. "I could fix that. Right now. If you want."

And here's the part I'll never be able to explain afterward.

The Ferris wheel is still stuck. We're still fifty feet in the air. Nothing about our situation has changed.

Except somehow, everything has.

A minute ago, I was consumed by panic.

Now all I can think about is Wyatt kissing me.

"If you don't," I hear myself say, "I really might kill you myself."

Something shifts in his expression. He lifts his hand slowly, giving me every possible chance to change my mind.

Then his fingers are at my jaw, careful as anything, and I have exactly one second to think this is actually happening before his mouth touches mine.

It's soft. Tentative almost, like a question he's waiting to see if I'll answer.