He begins doing some kind of safety talk and lists out options for how to fall off the platform. Apparently, backward is easy because you can’t see it coming, but stepping off sideways is a popular option too. “Any questions?” Colton shakes his head. “Three, two, one . . .”
Colton shouts and swan dives backward out into the darkness. I scream in fright, watching the light on his harness drop for what seems like forever before he reverses, bouncing higher and bringing to me the sound of his laughter. “Fuckin’ right!”
Colton laughs all the way down as the attendant lowers him to the cushion below, pausing while the ground staff unhooks him. As if the cushion would do a damn bit of good if I’m falling from 125 feet up. The line’s reeled back up, and I get hooked in when suddenly, the radio at the attendant’s hip squawks.
“Well, will you?”
It’s Colton’s voice, and I knit my brows together as the attendant holds the radio out. “Will I what?”
“Will you be flying to London with me?”
As I stare out into the darkness in front of me, I don’t have an answer, and the attendant shoves the radio back on his belt. For the first time, he seems keenly interested in what’s happening here. “He a good guy?”
“Huh?”
The attendant looks at me like I’m stupid. “The British dude . . . he a good guy or an asshole?”
A tiny laugh breaks through. “Maybe a little bit of both?”
The attendant nods sagely. “I can see the appeal of that, plus, you know, London. If I were a chick and a nice guy-slash-asshole asked me to London, I’d go. Long as he’s not a real asshole, just the regular garden variety dumbass type.”
I’m a bit dumbfounded. The guy barely said a word at first and now he’s offering relationship advice like Cosmopolitan.
“Come on, you’re up.”
I face forward, looking out over Fun Land and the bit of town beyond. From up here, I can almost imagine I’m just standing on top of a medium-sized building . . . except for the weight of the harness on my shoulders and around my thighs.
Do it. Don’t do it. Stay. Go.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I’m going to do this, but I don’t have to look. “Aaaahhh!” I scream, jumping into the possibilities of London and Colton.
For a long time, what seems like a year, at least, nothing happens. I can feel the wind whistling past me and it takes my breath away. I’m just about to scream again in fear as I splatter on the ground like a messy pancake when suddenly, I’m sent flying upward again.
My eyes pop open, and I’m in the air, my arms and legs waving everywhere as the tension lightens, and suddenly, I’m floating . . . free . . . no weight on my shoulders, nothing but what I’ve done, the courage that brought me here.
And Colton.
How did he know I’d do this? How did he know I’d like it? Right now, I feel like I want them to wind me back up to the top so I can do it again. But maybe there’s something just as thrilling half a world away.
I start laughing, giggling as I drop down again, bobbing up and down like a yo-yo.
“I’m coming with you!” I scream in between laughs, letting the words buoy me as I’m slowly lowered to the ground where Colton waits for me, grinning proudly.
“Where to now? We do have such an early morning ahead of us.” Colton thinks he’s being clever and subtle. He’s not in the least.
“Yeah, you're right. Super early. Guess you’d better take me home.” His disappointment is written all over his face, like a boy who lost the championship game. Okay, maybe not quite that bad, but I’m a damn good trophy.
Not that he’s lost me in the least.
“I need to grab the bag Tiffany packed for me and make sure she’s all set before we go to your place.”
His head whips to me so fast I think he’ll get whiplash. Though if he didn’t from that freefall, I guess he won’t now, either. “What?”
I repeat slower. “Tiffany. She’s at my apartment. Part of my prep work today was getting her to go over and work her capsule wardrobe magic on my closet. She’s probably got me packed into one tiny suitcase with a list of outfit options, complete with helpful photos, if I know her. And I do. Plus, she’s having some difficulties with her brother, a bit of roommate-itis, so staying at my place for the week and taking care of Sophie will probably be a lifesaver for them both. Just a little break before one of them kills the other one, because I won’t be here to provide snacks and shovels . . . or an alibi.”
Okay, maybe I didn’t say all of that particularly slow, after all, because Colton is still processing like a lagging computer. I can almost hear the dial-up bing-bong-bing-bong.
“You didn’t know if you were going, but you already arranged for Miss Young to prepare your things and care for your cat in your absence?”
I shrug. “Plan for the worst, hope for the best.”
“Indeed,” he agrees as he pushes the pedal closer to the floor. I snug back in the seat with the increased acceleration and realize I’m going to miss Cammie. God, I hope Tiffany doesn’t crash her. I told her she could drive my car this week, too, which is a bigger lend than either my apartment, my closet, or my cat. Cammie is a notch above it all, and I pray Tiffany doesn’t fuck it up.
Even though it’s my place, I knock before I go in. Tiffany’s been here all afternoon, and there’s no telling what she’s gotten into, and there are some definite possibilities I don’t want to walk into.
Like this one.
“Hey, Tiff,” I start, but she’s screaming.
“Oh, my God, Elle! Mr. Wolfe! I mean, Colton! I . . . just . . . hang on.” And she ducks under the blanket she was only half-covered with when we came in.
Before she hid, we could see her as clear as day—a shiny mask in her twisted-up hair, spots of pimple zapper cream on her face, free-titting it in one of my baggy tank tops, and shoveling ice cream into her mouth as she messily cries over some Hallmark movie.
“Good movie?” he asks dryly, his brow rising in question to me even as he talks to the lump on my couch that is Tiffany.
She makes some sound of displeasure that’s muffled by the blanket, or maybe her hand. Sophie echoes it, meowing her displeasure at having her catnap interrupted, but then she spies the ice cream precariously sitting on the couch and decides to mosey on over like I won’t notice.
Fur mom guilt at leaving her for a week stabs at my heart, and I don’t scold her for stealing treats she knows she’s not supposed to have. I go blind and let her enjoy, choosing to devil Tiffany instead.
“Guess what we did tonight?”
That’s enough of a dangling carrot. She pops back out, thankfully covered her headlighting nips with the blanket at least. “Fuck like rabbits? How was the BBC?”
I hiss, and Colton seems to choke on his own spit. “That’s not what that is! Quit saying that! And no. We went bungee jumping!”
It’s a bit of a squeal, and my neighbors will probably be glad I’m going to be gone for several days.
“Bitch! You did not do that without me!” Tiffany’s jaw is set in stone, giving her a sharp, mean edge. I figured she wouldn’t want to do something that crazy, but maybe I was wrong?