His gaze is so intense, I don’t know if he wants to pull me in or push me the hell away. I shake myself out of unabashedly checking him out, realizing this is the wrong damn time for that shit, but he’s been staring at me, too. I didn’t miss the way his eyes took in my entire frame, scraping up every inch of my body.
It feels like we’ve been staring for an eternity, when in reality, it’s been less than ten minutes. I suddenly feel like I know him, and a massive wave of panic hits me at the thought of him letting go of the railing, of me not being able to save him.
What do I say? I have no idea what to do, which is why I just stare. Maybe we’re staring because we want to know who will break first, who will say something. Maybe he’s waiting for me to say something life-altering, something to stop him. Thankfully, he breaks first, keeping me from feeling like the fraud I’m starting to become.
“Well, aren’t you going to tell me not to jump?” His voice is deep, warm, and velvety; suddenly, my bones don’t feel so cold anymore.
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly with a shrug. “Do you want me to stop you?”
That seems to catch him off guard. He rears back slightly and tilts his head to the side, considering my answer. He stares for another moment before responding.
“I’m not sure what I want you to say, but I didn’t think it would be that. I figured I’d get some philosophical bullshit about the merits of life and the selfishness of standing on this side of the railing.”
I don’t respond right away – how am I supposed to approach this? This isn’t a side I expected to be on this morning. I feel like I’m invested now, and if I let him jump, the guilt of a life lost will surely push me over the edge as well. Not that it matters; whether my conscience is guiltier or my slate slightly cleaner, it won’t stop what I need to do.
Maybe it doesn’t have to be the end of the road for him, and looking at him right now, I really hope it isn’t. I’m still drowning in murky waters; I don’t know if I’m cut out to save anyone’s life when my own flutters so freely in the wind. I speak without giving it much more thought.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Would you like a jumping partner?”
“What the fuck did you just say?” he sputters.
“You heard me. You kind of stole my spot, so maybe we can go together?” I take another step forward until I reach the railing. I step onto the small concrete base, trying to figure out how to get my tiny body over the side. Maybe we’ll go together, maybe it’ll make him find another spot, or maybe it’ll snap him out of his decision altogether.
“What the fuck are you doing? Don’t you dare,” he growls. He literally growls, which might hae made me laugh if this situation wasn’t so fucked up.
“I’m joining you. Like I said, you’re in my spot. Fuck, I didn’t realize how tall the fence was going to be.”
He stares at me, completely taken aback, still death-gripping the fence while I try my damnedest to climb the gate without bumping him.
“It’s only tall if you’re the size of a child. How old are you, anyway? You’re too young for this shit. You shouldn’t be here, little girl,” he throws back.
“That’s a bit sizeist, don’t you think? I’m 19, and you’re too hot for this shit. You shouldn’t be here, either. How do you like that?” I quip, irritated. I still can’t figure out how to get over this fence, and I decide to give up for the moment to argue back at the Greek god in front of me. “And another thing,” I continue. “Not all children are short. I’m sure you weren’t a freaking pine tree when you were a kid.”
Sizest? Who says things like that, Ella? God, I have no idea how to interact with men.
He stares at me for a moment, then shocks the hell out of me and laughs. On the ledge of the Golden Gate Bridge looking down at the water, he freaking laughs.
“Pine tree? Sizeist? I don’t think that’s a word, but fuck, seriously? My life is dangling by a thread, and you insult me? Wow, what a lifesaver you are,” he scoffs.
“Well for one, I also said you’re hot, so a compliment and an insult. I’m glad you’re finding this little morning outing so hilarious. Yes, it most definitely is a word. I’ll get you a dictionary if you climb back over. What are you, like 6′7? You’re a giant. I guess I should’ve called youRedwood,” I ramble awkwardly with a giggle.
“I’m only a giant because you’re tiny,Thumbelina,” he chuckles.
I stop any further attempt to climb over the railing and take a look at our surroundings, realizing the sun’s comingup and traffic’s increasing. Apparently, my plans for the day are blown and now, I just need to save this man so we can get on with our lives, or lack thereof.
“Thumbelina? Cute, real cute.” I tap my fingers on the railing as I consider him. “So, are we getting on with this show or what? The sun is coming up. What’s it going to be, big guy? Are you coming or going? Personally, I vote that you climb your tall ass back over the railing. Please do it carefully, because, as you’ve pointed out, I’m one third your size and won’t be able to save you.”
I really hope playing off the levity of this conversation and his willingness to joke with me is the right way to go. I don’t want to go all dark and storm-cloudy on him right now. Unleashing the thoughts really swirling around in my brain would be enough to make us both jump.
He stares at me for a moment, then cracks another small smile before looking back toward the water.
Oh fuck. Thinking I’ve lost him, I internally start to panic. The moment and the jokes are over: he’s decided to go. Suddenly, a huge hammer of loss slams into me. I feel like this will be the last conversation I’ll ever have with this man. Even though I was so dead set on, well, being dead just a little while ago, the thought of losing him physically hurts my soul.
What an insane feeling.
I go to reach for him when he looks back at me with a huge grin, which catches me off guard. Oh my god! Is he going to smile at me while he jumps? What kind of sick shit is this?
Without warning, he shocks the crap out of me yet again and begins to turn back around to face me, which is thescariest thirty seconds of my life. As soon as he gets his leg over the railing, his right hand slips. I feel like it’s happening in slow motion. His grin falters and his hand flails. He loses his hold on the railing and looks up at me with a face full of complete and utter terror.
