“Come on, Liza,” he chides.
“Well, you did promise that you weren’t a serial killer,” I say.
Jay smiles at me like he knows I’m going to say yes to his silly idea.
I roll my eyes and shake my head, my lips curling up into a small smile. “Okay,” I say, not believing any of this is happening.
But I’m stepping out of my comfort zone, right? First this, then maybe next I’ll be bungee jumping. I seriously doubt that. But who knows. At least I’m taking chances. That’s got to count for something.
Plus, I like Jay, despite not really knowing him. There’s something about him that I find interesting—not just his good looks. Also, on the off chance he is some sort of psycho, I do have a brand-new can of pepper spray in my purse.
“Great,” Jay says, smiling and rubbing his hands together again. “Just give me a minute to figure out how we should do this.”
Jay goes to work on his phone, typing with his thumbs.
“Okay, I think I’ve got it,” he says after about ten minutes of him typing and me sitting here trying not to freak out. There were a couple of moments that I almost made a run for it, or at least thought about excusing myself to the bathroom and never coming back. But I couldn’t do it. Something is keeping me here with him. Maybe it’s my interest in what Jay has planned. Yeah, that’s what it is. Definitely that. Not some stupid straight-out-of-a-romantic-movie notion that my hormones are cooking up. Stupid hormones.
Jay stands up from the chair he’s sitting on, and I follow suit. But instead of going to leave like I thought we were, he pulls the chair I was sitting on next to his. With one swift movement, he stands on the chair. He offers a hand to me to help me up on the chair next to him.
“What are you doing?” I ask, looking around at the people in the café, who are now focusing on Jay.
“We’re starting small,” he says.
“Jay,” I say, looking up at the absurdity in front of me. “I’m not scared of standing on a chair.”
“Prove it,” he says, hand still out.
“This is embarrassing,” I say, still not giving him my hand.
“Come on.” He thrusts his hand out farther.
I roll my eyes and give him my hand. He helps pull me up to the chair next to him, and now we’re standing next to each other on chairs in the middle of a café. This is utterly ridiculous.
“How does it feel?” Jay asks, letting go of my hand and taking in the view of the café.
“It feels ridiculous,” I say.
“But you’re not scared?”
“Not even in the slightest. But then again, if I fall, I’m pretty sure I won’t die. I doubt I’d even break anything.”
“Good point,” he says, jumping off his chair and giving me a hand to help me down from mine.
“You’ve passed the first height with flying colors,” he says, his chocolate eyes dancing with excitement. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re mental,” I say with a chuckle.
“No way. Stick with me, Liza.” He smiles brightly.
My hand still in his, he pulls me and my reluctant body out of the café.
~*~
“Okay, look over,” Jay says as we stand on a bridge in Central Park.
It should feel weird standing here with Jay on this beautiful cobblestone bridge covered with bright-green vines, the midmorning light shining through the trees and sparkling on the water below. But it doesn’t. It feels strangely good. And this coming from someone who just had what was most likely a nervous breakdown not that long ago. Of course, that could mean there’s some brain fog going on. But whatever it is, I feel safe. Which is totally not normal—maybe I should have my head examined for real.
“Look,” he says, motioning toward the edge.
