Elvis doesn't need any more prompting than that to lean in close, though it barely makes a difference with their barely fitting on the swing in the first place. She's right, they would probably fall off, or at least wind up motionless despite any efforts, but the point was never about swinging anyway. He'd rather have her company than any feeling of being airborne. No matter how good it feels for a moment, there's always a descent, after all. This way, instead, he has an anchor, something keeping him tethered here. That's all he's ever needed, one person, one reason to stick around. Effy is that and more.

"Better to stay put," he says, half a question, shoulders lifting in a shrug, even the one that's pressed against hers, very nearly level. "Had enough of falling."