“So when I asked you if you’d rather stand on a hundred-story building and look at the ground or show your favorite artist your most recent drawing, you overestimated your ability to stand on a hundred-story building.”
“It doesn’t matter. I already showed my favorite artist my most recent drawing, so I don’t have to do this.”
“You have not.”
“Did you not look at my sketchbook?”
“I am not your favorite artist.”
“Yes, you are. I wasn’t kidding when I said that.”
I kissed him on the top of the head. “You are the sweetest. You ready to get back on solid ground?”
“Yes, please.”
I held my hands out to him. “I got you.”
He let me help him up, then walked behind me, his hands holding my waist, his forehead on my shoulder. I led him inside and to the elevators. We waited behind a couple of people. When the doors slid open, a woman stepped out and said, “This elevator is going all the way down, no stops, no return trips. If that sounds like the elevator for you, step on in.”
It must not have been the elevator for the people in front of us because they did not step in. That meant we had the ride all to ourselves. The doors slid shut.
“Is your boyfriend okay?” the woman asked. Skyler hadn’t changed position.
“He’s fine,” I said. “He’ll be much better when the Space Needle doesn’t fall to the ground with him on top of it.”
She pushed the button for level one. “You’re not the first person scared of heights that I’ve seen. Not even the worst. Last week some guy fainted.”
“Thanks?” Skyler said.
“We’ll be down soon.” I put my hands over his on my waist, then threaded our fingers together and brought his arms around me so he was now hugging me from behind. He relaxed a bit.
When the doors slid open, we walked through the gift shop and straight outside into the open air. A patch of grass was to the left and I pointed to it. We both sat down and he took several deep breaths. “Better?” I asked.
He nodded. “Did you let that woman call me your boyfriend back there?”
“I did and I’d do it again.”
He laid his head in my lap and my hand immediately started playing with his hair.
“Will you?” I asked.
“Will I what?”
“Be my boyfriend?”
He held up his wrist, presenting the friendship bracelet. “Does the title come with an upgrade?”
“It adds kissing privileges to that,” I said.
“Deal.”
He stretched up to collect one right then and I obliged. As he settled back on my legs again, he asked, “So what are you going to do about Willow and Ezra?”
“Am I overreacting? I should be mad, right?”
“I’d be pissed.”
“I am. And they knew I’d be mad. That’s why they didn’t tellme. But somehow that makes it even worse. I’m embarrassed, questioning everything about our friendship and why it started and if she was using me all along.”