"I've got to tell you something that's really important," she said, "and I have to do it right now." She didn't know what she was going to say, but she knew she was going to say it wrong.
"Woah," he stopped, "Am I ready for this?" he asked.
"I need to know something," she paid no attention to his question, "and I'm not going to even think for the next five minutes, I'm just going to say stuff," she wiped her forehead. "I'm sweating."
"Okay, well tell me, then." He was collected, with his fingers laced together. His hands cupped a pocked around his knee.
"I am in carnival-ride-anxiety with you," she blurted. He laughed. "I'm serious."
"So, I'm just going to be upfront. I don't know where this is going," he said and Funny, she thought, me either.
"Well, I mean it," she went on, "I'm in airplane-descent with you. Rock-climbing-wall-no-chalk with you."
"I don't know what words you're trying to find, but these aren't doing much for me," he remarked. She just kept going.
"Once, after my dad took the training wheels off my bike, I rode it down this big hill in our front yard. I couldn't remember how to use the brakes and so I smashed into the front step so hard that I flipped over the handlebars and got a fat lip. And I felt that same flip thing in my gut the time you made me go with you to buy new dress shoes."
"I make you feel like you've been flipped over the handlebars of a bike?!"
"Yeah," she said, "and also, I might love you," she said, and that was the ticket and he got it.