Page 4 of Don't Look Down

My brain searches for a topic. Anything, but mostly, my focus is stuck on our season and how many flights we have left. Way too many, in my opinion, but also, maybe not enough, depending on how far we make it this year. We’re midway through the season. If we make it to the playoffs, our flights will increase drastically. And I’ll have to find a way to be okay with that. Obviously, I want to make it there, but the anxiety will be a total killer by then if today’s flight is any indication.

An appointment with my therapist for a refill on my anxiety meds is probably a must. It’s that bad. My body will be functioning on pure fumes and training by then, so in theory, I should sleep through a bunch of those flights, but realistically, I know I can't rely on that happening. I can’t function like this in the long term. And there’s no shame in needing help. Even though Leigh and the other guys give me shit when I lose my shit, they get it.

Once the season ends, I can successfully avoid flying for a few months before the new season kicks back up again. Somewhere between three to almost five months on solid ground.

Bliss.

But until then?

Pure, unadulterated torture.

Trying to shake away the thoughts of all those future flights, I take another deep, centering breath. It seems we’re both surprised with the turn of my thoughts and the words that tumble abruptly out of my mouth. “Sky willingly jumps out of planes every chance he gets. The crazy fucker loves skydiving,” I randomly blurt.

Immediately, I regret it.

A heavy, weighty silence follows my statement. Taking a chance to gauge his reaction, I open my other eye and look fully at him. His warm brown eyes are wide, eyebrows raised as he meets my greens.

Huh.

I cringe. This is weird. I made it weird.

Fuck.

My fat mouth decided to spill, so I guess we’re talking about Sky now.

“Sky, huh?” he asks me, as a tiny smirk curls his lips. His eyebrows are still raised. Fuck me. Now I’ve done it.

His expression tells me he has something more to say, but he’s holding the words inside. The bastard will give me shit for this later, I’m sure, but my boy has my back when I need him the most. That’s what matters at the moment. So I run with the topic I unintentionally started. Might as well. Now that I opened this up, there’s no way he’ll let it go.

“For fucking fun! Dude. Who does that? Who willingly jumps out of a perfectly good plane to freefall back to earth? Well,not a good plane, because they’re all shit, but a plane that’snotcrashing. Just for funsies. He’s nuts.”

He guffaws, “Um, a lot of people? I’d do it. I want to at least once in my life. I’ve heard the adrenaline rush is unreal, and you don’t even feel like you’re falling. The wind force practically holds you up or some shit and you just kind of glide. Then you pull that ripcord and glide some more. Sign me up. I’d have done it already if it wasn’t for my contract.”

I recoil. “What? Fuck no. Fuck. That. Shit. I would never.”

My brain can’t fathom how Skylivesfor skydiving. He told me he pretty much jumps whenever he has the opportunity. Seriously. And Leigh would do it, too?

What’s wrong with my friends?

Well…

Is someone you’ve never technically met really a friend?

Sky and I have spoken many times on game chats, but we’ve never actually met in person. Hefeelslike a friend. I’ve learned to be careful who I place my trust in, and that trusting my gut is a must. So I’m running with that, too. Mostly.

“Obviously,” Leigh chuckles some more. Yep, at my expense. The bastard. I’ll be hearing about this for a while to come. The gleam in his eyes is a dead giveaway that he can’t wait to give me shit about Sky.

Why did I open my big mouth?

“Who’s Sky anyway? The name doesn’t sound familiar. I’m sure you’ve never mentioned him before.” He’s not wrong.

“He’s this guy I started talking to onCall of Dutya few months ago. We talk pretty often now. Sometimes less or more depending on how our schedules line up.”

He gasps dramatically like a scandalized virgin maiden. “A COD bromance? And no invite? Say it isn’t so, Spence. The betrayal. I thought we were friends. My feelings are hurt. You know I’m always down for some deathmatch. My heart. Ithurts.” Lucas tosses his head back, one hand to forehead, the other clutched over his heart. Against my will, I chuckle at his antics. He and Sky would get along.

“Not a bromance, by any means, but next time we’re on, I’ll shoot you a text.” Dread fills me at the thought of shooting him that text. Discomfort coils in my chest. It’s nothing against Leigh, but I want those moments with Sky to myself. It doesn’t make sense to me, but I’m self-aware enough to recognize my possessive instincts are triggered. I don’t want to share him, but maybe I should. This can’t be a normal reaction to the thought of introducing your friends to each other.

“Bet. So, any plans for later today?”