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“Um. . . Clay?” I stopped, my hand still in his, forcing him to yank to a stop as well. “That’s. . . that’s. . .” I muttered, pointing toward the group of people.
He chuckled and pulled my arm forward. “That’s a way to celebrate.”
“Celebrate!?” I shouted. “By bungee jumping!?”
“Yeah, it will be freeing. . . trust me.”
“You’ve said that way too many times for me to actually trust you.” I pulled on his hand, but still found myself following him. I wasn’t actually going to jump off this bridge, was I? Just as the thought entered my head, I heard stomping and a loud scream from the bridge. A woman had just jumped off on her own and was now screaming—a thrilling scream—as she plummeted to the ground.
“Hey there!” A man stopped Clay as we approached the truck. “You here to jump with us?”
“Yes, sir, we are. I booked a tandem on Friday.” Clay smiled, way more excitement in his voice than there should be.
He booked a what?!
“Ah perfect, you two are just in time. It looks like your waiver has already been signed online and it says cash payment upon arrival.” The guy tapped away on his iPad while Clay ruffled through his back pocket, letting go of my hand to grab his wallet to pull out a few hundred-dollar bills. What the. . .
I could run. I could run back to the truck right now and not do this. Instead, I found myself hugging my arms close to my body, watching as others got attached to the bungee, and then they ran off the side of the bridge. Once Clay had finished with the man, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and gently pulled me to the crowd.
“Don’t hate me,” he whispered in my ear, his voice a deep rhythm that vibrated through me.
“I don’t hate you,” I said softly, sharply turning my head toward him. “I loathe you.”
He laughed. “Good to know things haven't changed.”
“You signed a waiver for me?” I grumbled.
“Had to. I had to sign the waiver before even booking an event.”
“Event?” I parroted. “This isn’t an event. We are planning an event. A party is an event. This is downright insane,” I grumbled, watching as they helped the man up back on the ledge. His hair was ruffled, and his body was shaking, perhaps out of fear, but the smile on his face said otherwise. “You said tandem?”
“I knew you wouldn’t want to jump alone, so I paid for us to jump together.”
“Together?”
“Hey, are you my tandem jumpers!?” another man asked, holding the bungee line up. “You’re up next, so if you could stand over here while I gather everything.”
“We’re jumping together?” I asked again, simply for clarification.
Clay turned down to look at me, his smile saying more words than he knew he was.You're safe with me. You can do this. This will be life changing. We’re in this together. “Yeah, they basically hook us—”
“I-don't-need-to-know-details,” I said faster than my brain could form the words. It's amazing how he understood me.
He trailed his fingers down my arm, my skin lighting up as his fingertips landed on my hand. “You’ll jump?”
I looked up at him, his chin down and his eyebrows raised, the biggest puppy eyes I had ever seen. He was too damn cute.
I let out a loud groan. “Yes, I’ll do it, but know I am NOT happy about it, and you have some major making up to do after this.”
“One condition.” He raised a single finger in between us. “I want you to scream at the top of your lungs, ‘I’m Ophelia Fuller, wedding gown designer.’”
“You can’t be serious?”
“Oh, I am. We”—he pulled on my arm, taking a step back toward the man with all the equipment, —“are celebrating.”
The employee, who introduced himself as Jeremy, began setting us to jump, letting us know that the large band he wrapped around our waists would hold us together and the hooks around our ankles would keep us tied to the bungee cord. He repeated over and over that everything was completely safe. He suggested Clay wrap his arms around me and hold me tightly to his body, but that it would be okay if he let go.
“Don’t you dare let go,” I growled up at him.
