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“I got you,” he says.
His lips touch my ear. I’m panting.
“I lost it. I can’t find my footing.” My voice is panicked; my heart is beating wildly. His mouth is still right there, at my ear.
“It’s okay. You did good. That’s part of it, recovering from a slip. You did good,” he says, his voice steady. Reassuring. Kind.
Sexy.
Fuck.
His hands guide mine to new holds before he slides along my back until his feet are on the ground. His hands wrapped around my ankles, Cameron holds up most of my weight, my arms shaking and numb from the adrenaline coursing through them, doses that came partly from the fall but also from all this damn touching.
“Let go and fall back. I got you,” he says.
I shake my head, which pulls a deep laugh out of him.
“Brooky!” he scolds.
“Do not call me Brooky!”
His laughter grows, but his hands remain firm on my legs.
“Look, I didn’t let you fall then, and I won’t now. I will catch you.”
I turn to face the wall, which is pretty much an inch away from my nose. My only other options are to die here or to climb down on my own. Neither of those are great choices. No, those are truly stupid thoughts.
“Okay, but no count on three. I’m going to tell you when I’m ready and your ass better catch me.”
He laughs but cuts it off when I glare down at him. It may be dark out, but he can still see my laser beams.
“Okay, I’m ready. Whenever you say,” he says. His voice is so calm, not a hint of worry. I know anyone looking on would find this whole thing comical. I’m maybe five feet up. It’s probably an easy jump for almost anyone else at Welles. A third grader could probably do this with no problem at all. Heck, our headmaster and his wife could probably jump in tandem. But I’m terrified. What if I land wrong? What if my leg pops, or something tears? What if Cameron drops me?
“Just say when,” Cameron says, basically reminding me that I need to get moving along.
I nod, mostly for myself, mentally psyching myself up.
“Okay, ready . . . right . . .” The wordnowgets swallowed up by my loss of breath as I let go, expecting to free fall. My descent, however, is very anticlimactic. More of a slow float, like when a figure skater is lifted by her partner for a tour around the ice and she gets to spread her glittered arms out for the judges to see.
Cameron’s arms circle my legs, and he backs away from the wall, letting me slide through his grasp in slow motion until my feet make the sweet crunching sound on the ground. Dramatically, I bend down and flatten my palms in the dirt, smacking my lips loudly as if I kissed it too.
“You’re ridiculous.” Cameron laughs.
“Come here.” He motions for me to stand tall so he can unwrap, unbuckle, and unhook the sling he put me in, and I hold my breath every time his hand accidentally grazes my leg.
“That was amazing,” I finally let out. Cameron slips the remaining belts away from my body before darting his eyes up to meet mine.
“Oh, yeah? I was pretty sure you were going to murder me for a minute there.” He unsnaps his gear in one quick motion, stepping out of it like it’s a pair of boxers he puts on every day. I smirk at the thought, considering how his morning started.
“Do you come out here a lot?” I stretch my back and peer up at the wall I scaled. Our hooks and ropes are still linked to the anchors, which Cameron unfastens next. From this view, I realize how dramatic I was being. Maybe it will make me braver for my next climb.
“Here? Not so much anymore. I started climbing this in first form.” He wraps everything up into a tangled mess and stuffs it into the bag he pulled it from.
“And you wonder why it was so knotted,” I mock.
He shrugs then tosses the bag to the ground. The wind kicks up, and I shiver in response. Cameron is completely unfazed.
“So that climb . . . it’s kind of nothing for you now, huh?” I imagine his lanky junior high body scaling up to the top. He’s always been a climber, so I can see how he would take to something like this so young.
