I narrow my eyes at her, waiting for her to elaborate.
“Sooooooo,” she draws out awkwardly, and I already know I’m going to despise her plan. “You hold on with one hand, I grab the other, you swing me as hard as you can, and I lock my legs over the ledge.”
I don’t know if I should explode and scream at her for being so incredibly reckless and stupid or kiss her for having zero fear of gravity. “Absolutely not.”
She growls then. “You have a better idea?”
I look around, but no matter how many times I look, an answer doesn’t appear out of thin air. Worse, it’s getting harder and harder to hold on. I bite my tongue until I feel blood, the pain helping to ground me so I don’t spiral.
“If you fall to your death, I will never let you forget it.”
She snorts. “That doesn’t even make sense, but I won’t call you out on it since you’re clearly in. Now hurry up, my arms are screaming.”
I can feel the eyes of other competitors on us, waiting to learn from our mistakes before trying anything. I pretend they don’t exist, trying to draw in deep breaths. This is fucking nuts, and I’m likely literally about to throw her to her death. Yet she shimmies back down towards me, so I embed one of my spines deeper, needing it to support both our weight and momentum without snapping.
I use my toes to bow out my body as she slides beneath me, pinning her in place while she adjusts her hand holds. “Aren’t you even a little scared, or did those brothers drop you on your head too much as a baby?” I snap, trying to mask my fear under harsh words.
She sees through me though, far too easily. “Why should I be? You going to drop me?” she retorts in challenge as I grit my teeth.
“I’m not going to fuckin’ drop you; just worry about sticking the landing, you psychotic woman.”
As we start to adjust our grips, the first real bit of fear trickles into her voice as she nervously laughs, “It’s a pretty long way down; Soren would totally have time to get there before I landed.”
I ignore her sweet scent and the way she’s pressed against me, my heart hammering a mile a minute out of fear. “Definitely,” I lie easily. “But let’s not test him just in case, yeah?”
“Right, that’d be rude. I don’t pay him nearly enough for timed races,” she babbles as it becomes clear we’re both stalling.
I center myself, taking a deep breath. “Ready?”
I feel the change in her as she blocks out her fear, her muscles loosening up as she relaxes against me. “Been ready, newblood. Was just giving you time to catch up.”
I release a long, slow breath before tightening my left hand around the spine, gripping her hand in mine as she lets go. She hangs facing me as we test to make sure it can support our weight, and when it doesn’t budge, I start to swing. Her bright green eyes harden with determination and focus, jutting out her legs to help swing her higher with each pass.
My arm is screaming, my body drenched in sweat, yet I don’t let her slip even an inch. When the time comes, it’s like a knife sinking into my gut. Physical pain turns my insides out, the voice in the back of my head screaming and raging at me.
And I let her go.
The back of her knees hit the ledge as her legs curl over, but before she can get a handhold, she starts to dip back down. I nearly vomit, my vision starting to blacken around the edges.
A spine soars through the air at her, cutting through her shirt to pin it to the platform. I hear the fabric tearing as she falls, pivoting to grab the ledge. She hauls herself up, ignoring the way it tears at her shirt in favor of safety. I can’t see her from here and sag in relief, because even if I’m screwed, she made it.
Holy hell, I just aged ten years.
There’s a creak and a groan before I hear her voice, far too close. “Well isn’t that some shit, there’s an access panel.”
I peer around the column to see her crouched down on the platform above me through a square hatch. With my legs wrapped around the column, I spin to the other side and pull myself through the opening, rolling onto my back and heaving.
“That,” I pant, “is some real,” another heavy breath, “bullshit.”
She snorts and my eyes open, locking on her. With her shirt hanging in tatters off the side of the platform, she stands there in a black sports bra and her makeshift shorts fused to her curves. She turns to where the man that saved her is glaring at me with open hostility and disdain, not that I fault him.
“Thanks!” She gives him a thumbs up and a huge smile.
He snorts. “That’s what happens when you trust newbloods, Ezra,” he hollers back. “They nearly get you killed!”
She shrugs, turning her back on him and offering me a hand up. “Well that didn’t pan out like I hoped.”
I scoff, getting to my feet. “You’re worse than Yri.”
