My heart slams against my ribcage, every muscle, tendon, vein, every instinct demanding that I scream back at him and tell him no.
I made no promises to Sapphire that I would do this, but I wanted to prove to myself that I could do this. I have to.
On a trembling inhale, I rise to my feet and take a tiny step forward, barely a millimeter, not worth the effort… then I take another… until my body seizes, survival my only instinct, and I fall backward, landing flat on my ass on the metal floor, with my shaking hands raised in surrender.
My chest is heaving, and I’m staring at the floor as the instructor closes the door; the sound of it slamming brings me back to reality with the biggest wake-up call.
Everyone thinks I’m fearless, but I’m not.
I’m weak.
Shame and humiliation swirl like a fiery cocktail through my veins, twisting my gut like a snake’s nest.
I hate myself.
I should never have listened to Sapphire.
“It’s okay, man, it’s your first time,” the instructor says, laying his hand on top of my shoulder and squeezing it. “Next time.”
There won’t be a next time.
I’ll go back to controlling every situation I face—that’s my strength, especially when I can anticipate the result and avoid trembling like a coward, paralyzed by fear.
As the plane begins its descent, I rip off my safety goggles and throw them across the plane, and by the time the wheels touch the asphalt, I make a vow to myself to never do this again.
I’ll conquer my fear another day, but not now. Maybe not ever.
As punishment, I’ll let the humiliation burn my skin like scorching hot coals, red hot and branding me a failure.
I’m not a daredevil; I never have been.
It turns out I am helpless when it comes to heights and jumping out of planes, and a stunning spitfire of a woman named Sapphire.
What the fuck is next?
Confessing how I feel about her?
16
SAPPHIRE
Me
I saw photos on Max’s Instagram today of the two of you skydiving. Please tell me you didn’t do it because I told you to. I was joking, I didn’t think you would actually do it. Did you really do that?
My message goes from undelivered to read, but Eli doesn’t answer.
So I wait.
And wait.
And wait some more. That tells me one thing.
Me
It’s okay if you didn’t jump. I could never do it. I’m brave but not that brave.
The little bubbles shimmer to life, skipping across my screen as he eventually types back.