have a good reason. You want to be silly and kiddish just because you can,” she teased.
“Gotta have fun somehow!” He shrugged rather innocently, but there was something present in his eyes as well that suggested that wasn't the whole truth. Bryce did have a reason, but it wasn't one he was going to share.
I hope you know what you're doing. Arial followed him to the Ferris wheel, happy to get it out of the way first. She didn't like heights and was only going on it to humor him. The rocking of the buckets always made her nervous, like she might tumble out and fall to her death. That fear was instilled in her by her mother at an early age. If Bryce wanted to ride it, however, and live out some kind of boyish fantasy of his, she didn't want to be the one to deny him. Besides, being afraid of falling would distract her from the nerves of debuting one of her own songs in front of everyone.
Bryce got tickets from the booth. He wasn't even trying to shield his identity. While they waited in line, she was amazed at how easily the two of them did blend in. Neither of them looked like their usual selves. Townsfolk came up and said hello to Bryce, greeting her as well out of polite obligation. No sunglasses dropped over his eyes, or even a simple hat. She admired his ability to walk around as if he belonged. Then again, he did, so much more so than she. It wasn't fair, and no one they passed seemed to make the connection. Either that, or they didn't care. Would her hometown care that he was a celebrity, too? They had to know something was going on. It made sense that she would bring back a famous friend from California to visit, wouldn't it? Why had she stupidly thought that nobody knew anything?
“Relax,” he said and gave her shoulder a squeeze. Arial did as she was told. If he wasn't worried about being harassed by fans or paparazzi, then she wouldn't be either. When it was their turn to get on, he handed over their tickets and then helped her into the small bucket seat of the Ferris wheel. Immediately when the door was closed on them, she gripped his arm.
She glanced up at him sheepishly, positive she was blushing. How could she not be? The whole thing was embarrassing.
“I don't like heights,” she mumbled.
He shrugged. “Not a big deal. A lot of people don't.”
“But you don't seem to mind. Then again, I can't think of much that scares you,” she said. “You've been skydiving, deep-cave exploring, and ghost hunting. You're the most fearless person I've ever met.”
“Stuff scares me,” he said, his voice growing soft. “It's just the kind of stuff that's more personal. Danger isn't scary because it's so… objective.”
Both of Arial's eyebrows rose with curiosity. “Go on.”
He slowly scratched his chin. “When you jump out of an airplane, the worst thing that can happen is your parachute doesn't work and you splatter on the ground. It's straight and to the point. When you risk something you're invested in, however, like, say, your song, it’s different. We sing it tonight, and you have this personal attachment to the project. Your inner soul is going to be displayed for everyone. People are going to love it, or hate it, based on subjective opinions. Love you or hate you for the same reasons. That's scarier to me. Probably because there's not logic behind it, or solid facts to base the outcome. It's unpredictable and hard to control.”
“You're afraid of people not liking you. Is that what you're saying?” The confession floored her. Bryce did not strike her as the type to care much about what anyone thought of him. He marched to his drum, did what he could to be the best person he could be to everyone he met, and for the most part seemed to breeze through life with an enviable grace. The real question on her mind was: Why was he telling her all of this in the first place?
Bryce never answered her, but his lack of talking only confirmed her theory. They rode in silence, and both stared out in front of them at the scenery. The day was gorgeous and perfect. Hardly a cloud was in the sky, and the air was warm without being overly humid. The sun shone high above them. They made one more