"Wow. That's an intense reaction." His lips twitched into a small smile. "Am I really that disturbing to parents?"
"Maybe not to other parents. But to mine? Even a saint wouldn't be good enough in their eyes." I sighed and thumped my head back against the seat. "Let's give them some time to get used to the idea before flaunting a tattooed rocker in their face."
"Sounds fair." Nathan turned the wheel and pulled into a parking lot of a large, industrial-looking building. "Here we are."
"This is it?"
I had decided to take Nathan up on his offer to go indoor-skydiving. From what I'd seen on video clips from the internet, you essentially threw yourself down into a giant wind tunnel and rode the air currents, simulating free-fall. It looked invigorating. It looked terrifying.
It was exactly what I needed right now to forget about my problems.
When we went inside, I headed over to the counter to line up for tickets. Nathan stopped me.
"I've got them already," he said. "We can walk right in."
I smiled up at him. "You always think of everything."
How I ever thought this man was irresponsible, I had no idea.
But as it turned out, we couldn't walk right in. There were multiple steps before we were able to jump down the hole. First we needed to watch a video presentation where they explained the science behind the wind machine that would keep us from falling to our gruesome deaths. After that we needed to go through orientation, where they gave us hands on training on exactly what to do, how to jump and how to maneuver in the tunnel.
After a half an hour, we were brought to the room with the wind tunnel and sized for our flight outfits, which looked liked orange prison jumpsuits. Before we put them on, we were asked to sign consent forms. I skimmed it, knowing it was probably the same deal as with zorbing, releasing them from any lawsuits if we got injured.
I was about to scribble my name on the bottom of the sheet when Nathan put a hand on mine.
"Wait," he said. "Let me finish reading this part before you sign."
He studied the contract for long minutes with a frown. Finally, he looked up at me.
"You can't do this," he said.
"What?" I asked, confused. "Why not?"
He tapped on a paragraph near the middle. "It says people with certain heart conditions aren't supposed to do this. Not if they don't have their doctor's permission."
I groaned. "Nathan, that's just standard language on any contract for things like this. They just want to make sure no one sues them just in case something goes wrong."
"Exactly," he said. "What if something does go wrong? I don't want you getting hurt."
I suppressed a growl, exhaling heavily through my nose. Those words were too close to what my mom had been harping on about.
"It's fine," I told him. "I don't need to see my doctors for every little thing. They've already said I'm good for things like this."
"Forexactlythis?" he asked dubiously. "They specifically said you can go indoor skydiving?"
"They didn't give me a list! They just said I'm okay to take part in regular activities."
"I doubtregularmeans this."
"And how would you know?"
"I've been reading up on it."
I blinked at him, surprised. "You have?"
"Yeah. I've been reading blogs and medical journals and stuff. I wanted to know more about what you've been through."
I was shocked and warmed at the same time. I hadn't thought Nathan would put so much effort into understanding my condition. Still, it didn't give him the right to tell me what to do.
