Page 27 of Not You Again
His feet hit the destination platform with a firm thud, and he stands. Smiling as he chats with the attendant on the platform, he turns to look at me. I tug on my helmet strap as they pull the handles back up to me.
Kit puts his hands on his hips and beams. My knees wobble. A dangerous thing to do on a platform this high off the ground.
I make the mistake of looking down.
My head spins, and I clench my teeth. I grip the railing so hard my hands hurt as I close my eyes and attempt to take in a deep breath. Images of everything that can go wrong flash across my eyelids.
It’s not the height that terrifies me; it’s the falling.
Kit’s voice jerks me out of my spiraling thoughts. “Andie, if you jump, I’ll give you that damn pencil!” Everyone around us chuckles.
My eyes fly open to see him smiling. He looks so much like the Kit I used to know, my heart squeezes in my chest. He always knew how to reach me through my brooding.
And I’ll be damned if I let him know how much it affects me now. I glare at him, though he’s probably too far away to discern it. I haven’t needed him in almost a decade; I’ve taken all kinds of leaps without him. This is just one more, really.
I grip the handles of the zip line and shake myself out, hopping up and down a little. Kit grins wider, as if he takes pride in me facing this.
Ignoring the fluttering in my chest, I take a step back.
Kit’s smile falters. It feels a lot like being at the altar again, watching his thoughts play out across his face. Delight gives way to apprehension, which gives way to fear.
His shoulders heave with a breath as I jump. I squeal when my feet leave the platform, and I force myself to keep my eyes wide open instead of shutting the world out.
My breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh.
Kit whoops, jumping on the platform. Adrenaline spikes through my veins.
I rush toward him through the canopy of tropical leaves, looking like an answered prayer in the golden sunshine. I smile, thrilled by the leap, the speed, the freedom of letting go.
Kit doesn’t cede the edge of the platform, instead opening his strong arms and widening his stance. My eyes go wide as I realize he’s not teasing.
“Kit, what are you doing??” I squeal. My core aches as I try to turn my body, as if I can stop my momentum.
It’s no use.
I crash into him with an unseemly grunt, and he wraps his arms around me as he staggers back to absorb the hit. I squeeze my eyes shut, terrified of the fall. We stop moving with a jolt, Kit swearing with the impact.
Then it all slows down. Kit’s back is flat against the tree trunk, and he’s breathing hard. He readjusts his grip on me, pulling my legs around his waist. His fingers sink into the bare flesh of my thighs. I press my palms into the bark on either side of his head, my body shaking with breaths too big for my lungs.
“Andie,” he says in a low voice, just for the two of us, “you did it.”
I force my eyes open so I can see the light in his. The sunlight turns them caramel underneath thick eyelashes. I lick my lips. “I can’t believe you caught me.”
His smile crinkles the corners of his eyes. “I told you I would.”
“You’re not hurt, are you?”
“No.” As if to emphasize his point, his hands slide ever closer to my ass. One of his fingers dips under the hem of my shorts.
My traitorous hand leaves the tree to rest on his bulging biceps. I gasp when our skin meets—he’s trembling. Not because he’s struggling to hold me, though. He hasn’t moved since I plastered him to the tree trunk.
“I’m proud of you.” His smile gives way to a serious look, his eyes falling to my mouth.
My hand slides from his biceps to his chest, where his heart rages against my palm.
Gravity pulls my face toward his, ready to cross every line I put in place to keep myself safe.
The truth of the matter is, even though I’m at a standstill, I’m still falling.