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“You jumped out of a plane, you can do this.”
“One of these days you won’t be able to sweet-talk me into doing what you want,” she says, chuckling. Anna nails me with a sharp look before placing her palm in mine.
“I like a challenge,” I remind her.
Bracing her forearm with my free hand, she hops over the edge and drops onto the platform, making it sway slightly. It’s locked into place, but there’s still some movement.
“I’m aware.”
Pulling a thick blanket from my backpack, I purposefully don’t unfold it all the way when I lay it down, ensuring that a few layers of wool are between our asses and the freezing metal grate we’re standing on—and not at all because it forces her to sit hip to hip with me.
I plop down and hang my legs over the side, resting my elbows on the metal rail that spans horizontally as a guard bar.
“I’m not ready for my feet to hang precariously over the side yet,” she says. “How high up are we, anyway?” She grips the handrail and gingerly takes a seat next to me, sitting cross-legged.
I peer over the side. Below, cars and buses appear like miniature models as they traverse through the maze of city streets with their tiny headlights. The sounds downtown are like a faint murmur from this height. “About six hundred feet,” I reply, leaning back and threading my fingers together behind my head.
She exhales a steadying breath, and we gape in awe, marveling at the beauty before us. This is arguably the best view of the city.
We’re suspended between the earth and the heavens, surrounded by colossal buildings that feel close enough to touch, like having a twinkling galaxy right at our fingertips. The radiant skyscrapers stand like vertical giants, each with its own unique architectural silhouette, and glowing in every hue on the spectrum, from warm golds to electric purples.
Above us the dark sky echoes with the faint speckle of stars, almost like it’s reflecting the metropolis below. The cool air, the elevation, the openness, it’s invigorating; the sheer scale of it all is enough to make your heart beat quicker. Not to mention, there’s something deeply romantic in the way the night wraps everything in softness and seclusion.
“Wow.”
Witnessing Anna overcome her fear and step out of her comfort zone is undeniably sexy. It makes my cock twitch, or perhaps it’s just the adrenaline and arousal swirling together.
“It’s a rush, huh?”
She inhales a breath. “Truly.”
I dig my phone out and take a quick selfie with her, then add it to our text thread and hit send. “We needed to capture your rebellious badassery. It’s just so rare.”
She rolls her eyes at me.
From my bag I remove the bakery box and two forks. “Promised you pie,” I say, untucking the thin cardboard flaps to reveal a berry crumble pie that definitely did not travel well. I told her I baked, but I would have told her anything to get her to go to Logan and Kelly’s wedding with me.
She laughs and takes one of the forks from my hand and we dig into the mess of pastry.
“Maybe it’s the view . . . but this is the best pie I’ve ever had,” she confesses.
“Mmhmm,” I agree, around a bite.
We admire the 360-degree Technicolor vista for a few minutes before I break the silence.
“So, what’s the deal with the pink?”
She furrows her brow. “What’s wrong with pink?”
“Absolutely nothing,” I say, lifting a lock of her hair and letting the silky cotton-candy strands slip through my fingers.
She tilts the box toward her while poking her fork into the berry mess. “Pink is soft. I’m in my soft era.”
I nod. “I’m a big fan.”
She opens and closes her mouth a few times before finally speaking. “I’m in recovery,” she announces, bluntly.
My instinct is to grin like a fucking idiot because I know how rare it is for her to open up. Instead, I conceal my absolute elation by calmly chewing and finishing my bite. “Do you want to talk about it?”
