The old Ferris wheel groaned as it swayed in the wind, the rusted metal creaking under the strain of years of neglect. Abby and you sat in one of the faded carts.

“This was a bad idea,” Abby muttered, gripping the edge of the seat so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Holy shit, I can’t do this! This is way too high!”

“You’re fine,” you teased, leaning back casually and pretending to admire the view.

You smirked, leaning forward slightly to look down. “Relax. It’s not that bad. See? It’s barely swaying.”

Abby let out a shaky laugh, though it was clear she wasn’t amused. “It’s swaying because this deathtrap is held together by duct tape and prayer!”

“Okay, fine. If it’s already swaying…” you shifted your weight, rocking the cart ever so slightly. The movement was small, but Abby instantly froze, her eyes wide.

“What the hell are you doing?!” she yelped, her voice shooting up an octave as she gripped the seat even tighter. “Stop it! Stop it right now, or I’m—”

“Or you’re what? Too scared to move, Anderson,” you said, grinning as you rocked the cart again, this time more noticeably.

Her face turned a shade paler as she pointed a shaky finger at you. “I will—ugh, I will kick your ass as soon as we’re on solid ground! I mean it! Knock it off!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her panic. “You? Kick my ass? You can barely let go of the seat.”

Abby’s eyes darted around the small cart as if looking for an escape that didn’t involve plummeting to the ground. “You’re such a—“ She cut herself off, her lips pressing into a tight line. “Whatever! Just stop moving!”

“All right, all right,” you said, finally stopping and leaning back again. “See? No big deal. You survived.”

Abby crossed her arms, her face a mix of defiance and fear. “I hate you,” she mumbled, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips.