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I look back at Diego, the dude that strapped me into the contraption, and force a smile. “Nobody’s died, right?”
The way the color left his face will be forever imprinted on my soul. “Nah, man, totally, safe.”
“Second time I’ve heard that.” I did another double take. “Cool shirt.”
It literally says: That’s the way things go.
Toward death? Downward.
I take another deep breath, then look back at Diego again. “How old are you again?”
His full white-toothed smile does not give me any sort of comfort, he is too good-looking to know how to put on a harness let alone shove an eighteen-year-old off a ledge. You can never truly trust the pretty ones. Not to mention his shirt, his ripped jeans as if Abercrombie made a comeback, or the fact that I know his shoes are entirely too expensive for this job, which also means that he was doing it for fun.
Not safety. Or actual monetary need.
I stare him down one last time; I stare down every perfect Clark Kent curl on his blond head. “Trust fund?”
He shrugs. “One day.”
I look around him to Ambrose. “For the record, if I die, burn the box under my bed.” I point at Diego. “No!” okay, so I shouted. “You don’t get to laugh or ask!”
He holds up his hands.
“Okay, so for the millionth time I can just… go.”
“Someone should,” Diego mumbles under his breath.
“Diego, I swear I will shove you over this ledge so hard and fast you’ll get pregnant!”
Ambrose bursts out laughing and wraps his arm around her.
What was once, possibly, potentially, mine. “Never seen him so freaked out that he’d threaten children on the first dude he saw, but hey, they’d be cute.”
“They’d be fucking gorgeous, and you know it, Ambrose!” I yell back while Diego grabs the rope and harness one last time.
“Remember…” Diego tightens my balls so hard.
Maybe that’s a no on the pregnancy?
“Focus.” He orders. “Just fall, all you have to do is fall, if you’re freaked, you can cross your arms, but honestly, I would just let that shit fly.”
“No shit shall be flying this day, good sir. No shit, damn it!” I turn. “Okay, I’m finally ready.”
Diego mutters something under his breath.
I’m sure it isn’t wholesome.
“One!” Ambrose yells. “Two!”
Diego grins at me. “Three.”
So I fall, or it is more of a trip in an attempt to step backward, but I’m sure I look like a mother fucking eagle soaring through the sky.
I don’t scream; the air is completely taken from my lungs by the eight-hundred-foot death drop.
I wasn’t expecting so much bouncing.
The first one is the largest, probably saw Heaven, but I am too traumatized to even do anything except gasp for air and try to look cool in front of everyone. The second time isn’t as bad, and I was having some fun, not really freaking out.
