Heights was never Irene’s favorite hangout. First, because she felt like she was going to fall to death every damn second. Second, because she had almost fallen to death back in elementary school when a kid bumped into her on a playground tree house. But when Logan wouldn’t stop calling her chicken in his head when she first refused to go on the Ferris wheel, she just snapped and said ‘Fine, I’ll go!’
She was beginning to regret her choice as their capsule was nearing its peak. Her stomach felt funny, like she was going to spew up her breakfast at any second.
“Scared, beautiful?” Logan asked, enjoying himself.
Irene ignored him.
“You shouldn’t have agreed if you’re going to clutch onto your seat like that. You might rip the skin,” he said while rolling his eyes.
Scowling, Irene eyed h
