It’s Jordan we’re talking about here, so I’ll risk looking like an idiot. If everything’s fine I can pretend I forgot my wallet in her purse or something.
“All right, I’m going.”
I don’t thank him yet though.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jordan
I don’t think twice about Camila being here until I find myself alone on a balcony with her. The restaurant is on the fifth floor of a building and we had drinks on the large outdoor deck while waiting for our table to be ready. Camila was talking to me, and I wasn’t really paying attention, instead taking in the view of the city below. Now, I turn around and find everyone went inside.
This is an impromptu gathering of the vert competitors, and Camila only competed in the street category. While someone might have invited her, I haven’t seen anyone else around who wasn’t competing tonight. Also, didn’t she confide in me that she’s felt like an outcast since Shred Live?
As I turn to head inside, Camila shifts, blocking my path.
“Jordan.”
Her voice is slightly hoarse and it shakes.
It’s then I really look at her and for once, it’s not her beauty that strikes me first. No, it’s the wild hue of her skin, and the unfocused glint in her eye.
“You okay?” I ask.
She sways for a beat, and I notice her usual confident, even sultry, pose is entirely absent from her stance.
“You have everything, Jordan. Everything I’ve always wanted, and will never get.”
I blink a few times, uncertain if I’m hearing her correctly. The way she’s transformed into a different person is eerily similar to what happened with Fliss when she held me at gunpoint in my own bedroom. A chill goes down my spine.
“I don’t have everything,” I respond lamely, because I have no idea what else to do or say. The truth is, I’ve been feeling on top of the world lately. Her words resonate, but not in a way that validates I’ve hit my stride in life; no, it feels like she’s holding a brick over me that she’ll drop at any second. Maybe I’m suffering from some sort of post-traumatic stress experience.
“I’ve tried so hard, and I’ll never have it all like you.” She waves a shaky arm around in the space between us. “The friends, the sponsors, the house, the lifestyle, everyone’s respect and admiration,” she continues, a mixture of disgust and resignation filling each word. “Now you’ve won the X Games, landed a 720 of all things, and Beck.” Her voice cracks when she says his name, and she takes a big gulp of air.
I feel like I should be doing something, but I can’t take my eyes off of her.
“He’ll never see me like he sees you. Even if I’d taken out your legs somehow a year ago and you’d never skated again, he’d still love you.”
Her eyes shutter closed as I process her words. Take out my legs? That’s a threat ingrained in my brain.
“Wait, are you bubblerollie?” It’s weird to say that silly Instagram handle in the midst of this conversation, but it tumbles out of my mouth anyway.
Her eyes open but she doesn’t answer. “And the irony is, you did crash and disappear from his life right when filming started, like I hoped. You couldn’t even skateboard, like I’d wanted. But that didn’t change anything.”
I sense someone joining us on the deck, but my eyes don’t leave Camila because she’s now walking toward the edge of the balcony.
“I’ll never have any of it. No matter what I do, no matter how much I’m willing to sacrifice, I’ll always be the loser.”
It’s not until she starts climbing the railing that I’m jolted to action.
“Camila, no! What are you doing?”
She doesn’t answer, and when I try to grab her arm, she pushes me off with more force than I’m expecting. Stumbling back, by the time I gain my footing, she’s sitting on the ledge. Her feet dangle over the other side, a five-story drop below.
My next breaths are shallow and accompanied by a strong need to throw up. Since I haven’t had anything to eat in several hours, nothing actually comes up when my stomach clenches.
“Why are you doing this, Camila?” I ask, unable to hide the desperation in my voice. If I ask her questions, she’ll answer, right? And if I can stall her, maybe I can get her to come down somehow.
“You’ll never understand. You have it all, and I’ve got nothing. No sponsors, no promise of a career, not even the interest of the right guys. It started with Beck, but now you’ve taken everything I’ve ever wanted. You win.”
“No, Camila, that’s not true,” I start, scrambling to try to explain how much she has going for her, but uncertain how to talk someone off a literal ledge.
Another voice joins us. “This is my fault.”
My eyes snap to Sarah Kase, who is approaching slowly, but hasn’t stopped moving as she gets closer to the balcony.
A bizarre sound erupts from Camila, some sort of painful cackle. “It was you first I’d never live up to, so it makes sense you’re here to see me give up and end it all.”
“I was a bitch. I rubbed it in,” Sarah says. “But it was only because I was jealous of you, Camila. I might beat you at comps, but you’re the one who turns heads. So many girls in there are jealous of you Camila, believe me. You have so much going for you. Please come down and have dinner with us.”
Camila looks over her shoulder. She starts to move, and my heart jumps into my throat. Now she’s up on her knees. “No, it’s over. I’ll never be good enough,” she says so quietly I barely make out the words. She’s talking to herself now, and Sarah and I share alarmed expressions. Camila turns her head to look back over the edge and begins to stand. “I’m going to jump.”
In unspoken agreement, Sarah and I move forward, each grabbing one side of Camila. Our sudden and quick movements are risky, probably ill-advised, but it’s as if we both hear the silent shouting in the air, “Now or never!”
Camila yelps and begins to dive forward, but we’ve got her by the waist and legs. She’s not going over. Not today.
Beck
I’m looking for Camila or Jordan at the table when I hear screaming from the deck outside. My heart in my throat, I run.
My knees almost buckle at the sight in front of me. At first, it looks like Sarah Kase and Jordan are holding Camila over the balcony railing. But then I realize they are trying to pull her back over to the deck. I rush forward to help, and when Camila hears my voice, she stills, allowing us to slide her to safety. Actually, she clings to me, her arms around my neck as she begins to cry.
I’m only half paying attention to the hysterical woman shaking in my arms. My eyes are on Jordan, whose skin is pale. I put a hand out to hold hers, and find her palm cold and clammy.
“Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay?” I ask Jordan, my voice thick with emotion.
Jordan parts her lips, but it’s Camila who answers. “Oh Beck, I’m so glad you came. You’re here.”
Before I can process what’s happening, a security guard joins us and asks what’s going on.
Sarah Kase is the one to answer him. She points to Camila, who is clinging to me. “She was on the balcony and said she was going to jump. We grabbed her and pulled her back.”