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“Did you, really?” I ask. I like the way that sounds.
“Yes. Something is very wrong with me,” she says miserably and I snort out a laugh. “It’s not funny. Every time I look up at you, I think about how much I want to kiss you.”
Heat coils in my chest. “I want to kiss you, too,” I admit.
“Of course, you do, now that I’m lying down here about to die,” she says angrily. I laugh. Again. God, she’s funny.
“I should be inside eating cake, getting drunk, and taking some beautiful stranger to bed. What kind of karma is this?” She wails to the sky and slams her open palm on the ground.
I watch helplessly from this stupid ledge. I feel like total shit.
“I’m sorry about what I said,” I start.
She doesn’t respond.
I haven’t apologized for anything in a long time. I don’t even know if I’m doing it right, but her increased volume makes me think not.
These are my “What would Swisher Do” moments. As soon as I ask myself that question, the answer comes.
“It was shitty, and I was an asshole for no reason,” I call down.
“Yes, it was.” She sniffles and looks up at me over her shoulders which are pressed flat against the rock. “No one’s an asshole for no reason. But, I really hope yours is good, because I want to forgive you,” she says begrudgingly.
I laugh. “You sure about that?” I ask.
“Only because if I get off this ledge, I’ll be able to have the night I wanted.” She scowls up at me.
I like that scowl.
I like her.
Very much.
The fearlessness of her conviction is so fucking attractive.
It’s a very rare trait. It’s the lack of that trait that makes the saying, and there are no atheists in foxholes very true.
But here she is. In her proverbial foxhole, and she’s not finding her faith. Or compromising. I’ve only known four other living people who are like this, and three of them are my brothers. So, I give her a sign of respect that I give very few.
The truth.
“I can count my family on one hand. My aunt, my brothers. To everyone else, I’m a means to an end. And that end usually has something to do with my money. I’ve stopped minding. I just wish I would meet someone who would be honest about it.” I say the words out loud that I’ve only ever let fester in my chest, and they sound as awful as they feel.
Her voice softens. “Oh, Hayes—”
The blare of sirens and the glowing from their flashing lights cuts her off.
The spell is broken, and I switch to action mode. I speak quickly and urgently down to her.
“I told them not to alert anyone inside. But it’s going to be impossible for them to get out here without that now. And people are going to come out and see what’s happening.”
“Of course, they will,” she says dejectedly. “For once, I’d love to not make a dramatic exit.” And I feel her pain. More than I can say.
“I’m going to go and make sure they don’t come too far, and I’ll do my best to make sure your dignity is in one piece when the night is over,” I tell her and start to get up.
“No, you can’t leave me alone with them!” she cries out, and her eyes widen with fear. “What if they drop me? What if I fall?” she cries. Her chest heaves and arches her back off that wall.
“No, don’t worry, and don’t move. I won’t leave until they get here, but I want to go and stand by the entrance to make sure that no one else comes out here. The last thing we need is for you to have to push through a crowd of people.”
