“Nothing.” He laughs, shaking his head.
“That laugh wasn’t nothing. Are you making fun of me?”
“I’m not making fun of you.” He pauses then sighs, staring into my eyes. “Okay, fine. First of all, we aren’t flying over the Hudson, so you don’t have to worry about crashing into water.”
I glare at him.
“Second, my helicopter goes through multiple maintenance checks.” He frowns and tosses his head to the side. “Birds on the other hand, no guarantees.”
I harden my glare.
“You’re cute when you get fired up, you know that?” He chuckles. “No wonder you’re a writer. Your mind has a wild imagination.”
“I’d rather not die at twenty-eight, thank you very much.” I huff, then snap my mouth shut. This is why I don’t open myself up to others often.
“Is this the sort of stuff that goes through your mind all day?”
I close my eyes and rest my head back. “What if it was?”
I feel him shift beside me followed by the sound of his seat belt buckling. Then his voice is in my ear, coming through the headset.
“Sounds exhausting,” he mutters.
I roll my head against the headrest and open my eyes. He’s staring at me. He’s sexy yet beautiful sitting beside me, with dark brown strands hanging above his brow, framing his blue eyes. “It isn’t exhausting.”
“Worrying about what could happen instead of living in the moment sounds incredibly exhausting.”
I inhale a deep breath and force myself to think calmly. I try to use the tactics my therapist has taught me over the years when I start to feel overwhelmed and consumed by thoughts. Or as Holt calls it,exhausted thoughts. But none of it works. Notuntil Holt’s hand rests on my thigh. Electricity crackles across my skin. His fingers press into the muscle of my leg, only separated by the thin linen fabric of my skirt.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did.” He laughs.
I playfully slap his arm. “What are you, five?”
He rolls his eyes while mine drop to the crease on the corner of his mouth. I want to drag my tongue across it.
Fire grows in my belly.
I roll my head back to face forward. The noise of the helicopter grows louder, causing a vibration through my seat and body. I close my eyes and breathe. I don’t know what has me more of a nervous wreck: this damn helicopter ride, or the fact I’m going to spend the whole night with Holt, just the two of us.
“What was your question?” Holt’s voice comes through the headset, breaking my concentration. It’s oddly comforting.
I don’t move, instead focusing on the feeling of us lifting off the ground. I don’t open my eyes even to peek at the earth growing smaller beneath us.
Swallowing, I stiffen as the helicopter dips slightly, then I slap my hand on top of Holt’s, hoping it’ll steady me.
“I’m sorry, Selene.” His voice is soft in my ear. “Please, ask your question. It’ll distract you.”
“Do you think our lives flash before our eyes before we die, or is that just a myth?”
I’ve often asked myself this question ever since my parents’ death. Did my mother’s life flash through her mind as she stared down the barrel of the gun? Did my father’s when he turned his gaze on me before pulling the trigger?
“I’m not sure, Wallflower.” Holt clears his throat, sliding his hand closer to the inside of my thigh. My skin is white hot, the electricity from his touch jumpstarting my heart. “But I guess ifwe’re going to go down in a raging ball of fire, we’re about to find out.”
I finally open my eyes and turn to see Holt staring at me. We’re thousands of feet in the air at this point, heading to God knows where, but I have this sudden urge to both slap him and kiss him at the same time.
Maybe by the end of the night, I’ll end up doing both.
