I am falling. My instincts kick in, I try to grab onto the wall but my hands slice through thin air. Closing my eyes, I wait for my body to hit the ground but nothing happens.
It’s too calm. No, wait. I am moving. I peel one eye open.
The blue sky comes into view first, the roof is next, then a mop of brown hair with the owner squinting at me with worry etched on his face. I sit up slowly, hands stretched out to steady myself in case I fall again. I don’t fall because I am on something firm. I look down, I’m seated. I’m seated on a guy’s lap.
As if reading my thoughts, his hand snakes around my waist to keep me down. “What are you doing?” I whisper-yell but the sound is drowned by the stadium. They are cheering too loud. “Let... Let go of me.”
“Relax, Tessa. It’s me,” the boy says. My brows furrow, he chuckles. “Brian. Brian McCartney.”