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“Wh…what?”
“Skydiving.”
“Skydiving,” he repeats. “I did tell you I don’t like heights, right?”
“You did.” I nod enthusiastically.
“And how does skydiving not involve heights?”
“When it’s indoors.” I smirk. “Just because you don’t like heights doesn’t mean you can’t skydive.”
“I thought that’s exactly what it meant.”
“Not anymore.” I step outside and close the door behind me, enjoying his confused stare.
“What exactly are you getting me into?”
“Something I think you might like.” I give him a quick kiss, but he wraps his hand around my head and holds me to him.
“What makes you think I might like something associated with heights?” he mutters against my lips.
“Because this something you can do without leaving the ground.” I give him another quick kiss and pull back. Chris looks at me skeptically, and I can’t help but laugh. “Trust me.”
We link hands and walk to the car where he opens the door for me and then climbs in himself. I give him directions to an indoor skydiving facility where we fill out a waiver, put on a jumpsuit, and sit through a safety briefing. But instead of filing onto a plane, we enter a room connected to a giant funnel of air. The instructor who gave the briefing steps through a doorway into the funnel and immediately shoots up several feet into the air. I watch Chris’s brow furrow as the man spins and twirls, shooting up and down within the funnel. His expression is part curiosity and part terror, and I burst out laughing just from looking at him.
“What?” Chris says.
I take him in, clad in a jumpsuit, skullcap, and goggles and staring completely bug eyed at the instructor. “You look ridiculous.” I laugh.
“So do you.”
“I know! But it’s worth it to get you skydiving.”
“Are you saying that’s something you do for fun regularly? Actually jumping out of planes?” He tries to run a hand through his hair but drops his hand when he can’t reach it through the skullcap, and I stifle another laugh.
“Of course not,” I reply as we watch the instructor pull the first skydiver into the funnel. “I don’t understand how anyone can willingly step out of a moving object, especially one that’s miles off the ground.” He seems to relax a bit at that. “But the sensation of floating through the air seems fun, and this is just like floating.”
“You’ve done this before?”
“Once.” We watch the instructor help the student navigate the rush of air that holds her aloft. By the end of her turn, she’s able to control her altitude a bit and even spin around. When she exits the funnel, her smile is blinding.
“It’s that fun?” He still sounds doubtful.
“You’ll see.”
One by one, the instructor pulls people into the funnel and helps them “dive” until it’s Chris’s turn. Just as he learned in the safety briefing rather than stepping into the funnel, he leans forward and lets the air catch him. The instructor helps him change the position of his arms and legs to control his movement, and soon he’s rocketing up to the top and then plunging toward the bottom. Jumpers are limited to a few minutes each turn, and all too quickly his first turn is over. But the grin on his face when he exits the chamber says he loves the experience just as much as I thought he would.
We each “jump” three times before the session is over, and once we shed all our gear, Chris reaches out and pulls me to him for a lingering kiss, so tender I feel it deep in my chest. God, how I love this man.
“That was incredible,” he says, leaning his forehead against mine. “I never had any desire to experience skydiving, but this I can do.” He kisses me again, softly.
“It’s the only way to skydive as far as I’m concerned,” I tell him, acutely aware that if I don’t pull back now, I might blurt out what I’m feeling, and this is not the time or place. “And now I’m starving. The Rio is just around the corner. Let’s go eat.”
Once we’re seated and place our orders, Chris asks, “Why did you think I’d like skydiving?”
“I thought you loved it?”
“I did. You gave me an experience I never thought I even wanted,” he says. “What made you think of it?”
