I glance up at her in surprise and shake my head. “Oh, no. This is your vacation; I’m good. Jonny’s going to help me get through this.”
“If you’re sure?”
I nod and give her a smile. “I’m good.”
“Ready, Belly?” Drew asks, placing a hand on the small of her back.
She glances over her shoulder. “Yes.” Then she looks back at me. “Good luck, Honey.”
“Thanks.”
Then he takes her hand, and they step off the edge together.
Just like that, they jump.
Drew’s cheers and Bella’s laugh echo off the trees below, and I watch them until they are so far gone I can’t see them.
How did they make that look so easy?
They just walked up, clipped in, and jumped.
My fingers tighten around the clip, my pulse loud in my ears.
This is my problem, isn’t it?
This is exactly why I’m stuck in the same pattern. Waiting for the right college, for the right story to come to me, for the perfect sentence to write. I’m always waiting for the perfect moment where something justclicks.
But nothing clicks when you’re standing still. Nothing happens when you don’t move.
I glance back at the wire, then down at the trees, then at Jonny, who’s pretending not to watch me.
“I'm going,” I say.
Jonny’s head snaps up, surprise flickering across his face. “Are you sure? You can take your time.”
“I’m done waiting,” I say, defiantly stepping forward to the line closest to me.
Jonny clips me in and checks my harness.
“Good luck,” he says, backing away so I can step toward the edge.
The second I get there, I look down.
Big mistake.
I start to feel dizzy, and I clutch onto the harness.
“I don’t think I can—”
I take a step back, my foot catching on the grated platform slightly. I lose my balance. There’s nowhere to go, and I close my eyes, wincing as I’m pretty sure I’m about to go down the line whether I want to or not.
Two hands close around my shoulders, and before I realize what’s happening, I’m drawn back against someone’s chest.
At first, I assume it’s Jonny, but when my heart rate slows and I smell his cologne, I know who’s just saved me from a potential zip line catastrophe.
Zach.
“Easy,” he murmurs, his voice low and right by my ear.
