Baby, Let Me Take You for a Ride
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Kate loves roller coasters. She loves everything about them—the speed, the height, the sudden drops, the rush of air against her face, the thrill of being at the mercy of a manmade track and someone's twisted imagination.
She particularly enjoys watching the people before her in line go, the looks on their faces, some of pure excitement, others nervously clutching the safety restraint. She notices the ones who scream versus the stoically mute. The couples who hold each other's hand and the odd group of three who argue over whose turn it is to sit with the stranger.
She loves when the car returns, sees the awestruck looks upon their windblown faces, how they pat themselves down to check that their sunglasses and hats are still in their possession. She notices the ones who bolt as soon as their safety restraints are released, taking no chance that they will have to ride again, or the ones who take forever to get off the ride, becoming an annoyance to the group who waits behind them.
She always avoids looking at the track as best she can before the ride, doesn't spend her time in line studying it, figuring out its twists and turns. She doesn't want to know, doesn't want to ruin the excitement, the surprise. She likes not knowing, the thrill of unawareness being half the fun. So much of life is predictable and planned out. So she lets the roller coaster catch her off guard, gives herself over to the excitement of the unknown, lets the surprised screams escape unrestrained.
Roller coasters are a few blissful moments where the rest of the world drowns out, the speed of the ride making it nearly impossible to think of anything else but holding on. Everything quiets. There are no cramped lines with cranky children. No stress or murders, or life changing conspiracies. There is simply a track, a car, and a 100 foot drop that takes her breath away and finds her giggling. A loop that leaves her weightless and a g-force that makes her teeth chatter.
She is free, uninhibited, and, most importantly, roller coasters let her have fun.
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Castle hates roller coasters, hates everything about them. Okay, well maybe not hates, but he definitely strongly dislikes them. He doesn't get what the fuss is about. What the big deal is. Why people would willingly wait three hours for a ride that lasts less than a minute.
Honestly, if he is being fair, he can understand the appeal, understands the thrill and excitement they create for people. How riding one gets the blood pumping, the rush of adrenaline.
But come on.
He can think of at least 20 different ways to achieve the same affect and at least 15 of them he doesn't even have to wear clothes.
Plus, they don't make him feel dizzy, or give him a pounding headache, or make it seem like his neck is going to be jerked right off his body. He shouldn't have to take note of the surrounding trash cans in case he has to puke in order to have fun. Not cool.
He's all for excitement and a rush. Knows how great it can feel. Like chasing a suspect down an alley and tackling him to the ground, or leaping on top of a really tall car to save himself from a rabid dog.
And then, of course, his favorite—the days when Beckett wears those super tight jeans, the ones that look painted on except for the little wrinkles that form at the back her thighs. He feels on fire those days. The pounding of heart letting him know how very much alive he is.
Damn thirty second roller coasters and their teenage operators who must gain sick pleasure from forcing lap bars way further into his crotch then ever thought possible. He doesn't need them. He can just stare at those little denim wrinkles for a thrill of a lifetime.
But here he is. Standing in a line that swears from this point is only 45 minutes long. Yeah, right. He is keeping track. There is no way in hell they are going to make it to the front in 45 minutes. He is doing this for one reason and one reason only. Relationship karma, brownie points, a free pass, whatever you want to call it. She is going to owe him, and he is not above cashing in. So the next time she thinks about passing on laser tag because she has had a "hard day at work" she better think twice. That's all he's got to say about the matter.
Seriously, roller coasters are dumb, total death traps, and he is pretty sure he just stepped in some kid's cotton candy throw up.
Ugh, he is so done.