Jason flexes his feet, making himself bounce a little. Still not holding onto anything. He’s seriously going to kill himself. Does he think he’s Spiderman? Does he not see how high up we are?
I make the mistake of looking down.
“Jason—” I start again, gasping it out through the panic making my throat close up.
“Aww, Hobbit, don’t worry.This is nothing. In fact . . .” He slowly starts to lift one leg, so now he’s only standing on one foot. One bare foot, his toes gripping the wall. He wobbles—
And I instinctively reach out for his arm. I don’t know if in that half-second I think I’m actually going to be able to do anything—I’m, like, half the dude’s weight and barely buff enough to dead-lift a Burritozilla atTaco Pete’s. But it doesn’t matter, because in the next half-second, just as Jason rights himself, my other fingers slip.
I shriek as I drop, even though it’s only a few inches before the rope catches me with a sharp, bouncy jerk, and then I shriek again as the momentum swings me to the side—and I collide hard with Jason.
There’s a big collective gasp and then a loud, horriblethwumpsound as he hits the mat below.
I hear Nate swear and people are freaking out and I’m dangling there, partially scrabbling against the wall in terror and partially straining to turn myself around enough to see Jason lying on his back on the mat, with Emily crouched down next to him on one side and Nate on the other and OH MY GOD DID I JUST KILL JASON—
“I’m not a player,” I hear Jason mumble into his headset mic, and I nearly pass out in relief. He’s not dead, that’s for sure, and from what I can tell he doesn’t seem to have any limbs jutting in odd directions. Maybe that mat was more helpful than I thought.
“He’s going to be okay,” Nate says, his voice picked up by Jason’s mic, sounding about as relieved as I feel. “You’re good, man.”
That’s when I realize I’m being slowly lowered, and there’s Brendan, looking pale but determined, carefully letting out the rope.Tears spill onto my cheeks, and all I want to do—after making sure Jason is okay and Nate is not just delusionally hopeful—is run into his arms and stay there forever.
It’s a good thing we’re staying in tonight. Because I need a break from dates with other people and heights from which I nearly kill Jason. I need our leftover vodka, and my feet on the ground, and more than anything, I need my Brendan.
Fourteen
Brendan
It may not be the smartest thing to be downing shots with the girl I’m desperately in love with but only casually dating, but the hard lemonade and cherry vodka mixed with 7-Up taste so good, especially lying on the couch in our hotel room with her body so warm and just inches away.
Su-Lin waves her empty glass at me. “Top me off, my good man,” she says in herSockton Abbeyaccent. She’s had fewer drinks than I have, but she’s also a lot smaller, so I think we’re pretty equally yoked.
I bow my head to her, and we both laugh, high pitched and giddy.
Yes, I’m buzzed. Not that we don’t deserve it—what with the stress of the con and dating other people, not to mention Su-Lin’s terrified climb earlier today, and Jason’s brush with death, and the anticipation of the launch tomorrow. When I think of it all together like that, it’s a wonder we’re not both in some sort of panic-induced coma.
“Of course, my dear lady,” I say, adding more 7-Up to her glass, then the vodka.That’s the end of it—there wasn’t a lot left after the party. “I am ever your humble vodka purvreyor.”That’s not right. “Purvreyor? Purv—purv . . . Damn it.”
Su-Lin giggles. “My vodka perv. Yes.”
Ha. I’ve got it. “Purveyor!” I hold up my glass and smile at her, and she grins back.
Su-Lin holds up her glass, and I clink mine against it. “To my purveyror,” she says. Her nose crinkles adorably. “God, thatisa tough word.”
“Right? Vodka perv,” I say, shaking my head. She laughs, and I try to just enjoy this for what it is.Two casually dating best friends, loving each other in the way we do best, by just spending time together and messing around.
Um. But not that kind. Not yet . . .Though the alcohol has quieted my anxiety to the point where I’m not really surewhythat is.
Oh right. Because I’m messed up beyond belief and can’t say the g-word without hyperventilating. I down my shot while Su-Lin cuddles against me, her hand absently resting on my knee, massaging it through my jeans. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t realize she’s doing it, but god, it drives me wild. I pour myself another shot of lemonade—if I drank every time I wanted to calm my stress, I’d be an alcoholic, but I do need the occasional vice. God knows I deny myself enough pleasures in life—besides my own personal sock collection, anyway.
Su-Lin giggles, and for a startled moment I think maybe she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.The results are obvious, though thankfully my jeans are tight enough to hold things down somewhat, so I’m not fully standing at attention. She moves closer, her arm stretching across my waist, dangerously close to—
Wait. She’s not looking at me, but across the room at . . . “Are you still giggling about the toaster?”
Her giggles intensify, and I lean in and kiss her.
We’ve made out a lot in the last week, but every time, I’m struck by the intensity of desire that washes over me. I slide my hand up her shirt, running my thumb across the soft skin of her back, and she moans.
I’m not the only one worked up, but Su-Lin seems to have an easier time stopping than I do. I wish I could say the words, that I could assure her I’m in love with her, that none of this is casual for me. I wish I could trust myself to do so.
