Page 10 of Freefall

My eyes narrow as I watch her walk to the edge and then turn around.

“Sometimes when I’m afraid to do something, I imagine myself doing something even scarier,” she explains.

Despite my irrational fear of stepping on the line, I take a step forward. “What’s scarier than going in there?” I ask.

She stops in the middle of the line, peering up at me. “Heights.”

She says this like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like I should have known, and maybe I should have, given the way she’s pretending to balance, checking the space at her sides like she’s a hundred feet in the air instead of on solid ground.

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“What are you afraid of?” She tips her chin towards the office-slash-cottage. “Besides that?”

How much time does she have?

Losing control.

Someone else I love dying.

Cracks in the street.

The line she’s standing on.

My own mind.

I don’t say any of that. Instead, I dig into my pocket for my keys. “Hey, do you want to go somewhere?”

Shit, that came out a little creepier than I intended.

“I mean, unless you’re going to⁠—”

“Sure,” she interrupts me, stepping back. “Under two conditions.”

“Okay…”

“The ‘somewhere’ you’re referring to is a public, well-lit establishment, preferably with food.”

That pulls a small smile from me. “Done.”

“And…” She reaches out and snatches my keys, just like she did with the cigarette. “I’m driving.”

She presses the unlock button on my key fob until she hears a beep, then scampers off toward my car. Opening the driver’s side door, she peers up at me with those wide hazel eyes. “Do you trust me?”

It doesn’t make any sense. I’ve known her for all of five minutes.

She goes to my college.

She’s afraid of heights.

She’s painfully beautiful.

That’s all I know, and yet somehow I do trust her. I can’t explain it any more than I can explain why I can’t step on cracks on the sidewalk.

“Yes,” I answer, and she rewards me with a smile.

“Good.”