The Moment of Letting Go - J. A. Redmerski Page 0,81
he’s still there, so close I can feel his breath on my lips and it takes everything in me to keep from tasting them. “We’re all stronger than our weaknesses,” he says. “Sometimes we just need someone else to help us find that strength.”
“Who are you, really?” I ask.
His eyes soften on me in a curious manner, and his mouth turns up slightly at the corners.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know … I mean, how is it that you can make me question just about everything?”
He seems genuinely surprised by my confession, so much so that he doesn’t seem to have an answer or a comment.
“You make me question my job,” I go on, trying to grasp my own words as much as he appears to be. “You make me question the amount of time I don’t spend behind my lens. I question my future. Where will I be in ten years? What will I be doing? What do I want to be doing?” I laugh lightly. “And every day now I question …”
After a moment, Luke says, “What do you question every day?”
I smile, the kind of smile that borders reflection and confusion, looking down at my hands in my lap. But I can’t answer him because I’m still not sure of the answer myself.
“I’ll get on the helicopter,” I say. “Not because I feel forced, or because I’m trying to do what you want me to do, but because I want to do it for myself. I need to do this.” It was difficult to say that, but it made me feel a little stronger.
His lips spread into a wide, close-lipped smile.
“That’s my girl,” he says, and my heart utterly melts into a puddle of hot mush.
The helicopter ride was terrifying at first, with the floor-to-ceiling glass that gave me more of a view than I initially thought I could stomach, but eventually I came around. My hands and legs stopped trembling. The tears dried up from my eyes. A look of awe and fascination replaced the expression of dread that I knew I wore as obviously as my clothes. The scenery literally took my breath away. The multicolored sea cliffs with sharp ridges and deep valleys. The majestic waterfalls and rolling green mountains. I was surprised how quickly I became comfortable with the height, and I don’t know if it was because the beauty made me forget about being afraid, because Luke was sitting beside me and I felt safe, or a combination of both, but … well, Luke was right—after I did it the first time, I wanted to do it again.
I thank him all the way to his car: with the actual words; by how tightly I grasp his hand; with the way I can’t stop beaming or talking about how amazing it was to be in the air, drinking in the stunning beauty of this island—I never would’ve done it without his help; I never would’ve even attempted it.
“Hey,” I say as we stop in front of his car, “what is it with you wanting to cure me of my fear of heights so badly, anyway?”
He places his hand on the car door and pulls it open for me. The vanilla-scented surfboard hanging from the rearview mirror tickles my nostrils as I hop inside.
“I dunno,” he says. “Maybe I just can’t help it.” He smiles and starts to close the door.
I stop it with my hand.
“No, seriously,” I tell him, looking up at him from the seat with intense eyes. “There’s gotta be something more to it than that.” That’s certainly not a generalized assumption—some people are just that way, ready and willing to help anyone at the drop of a hat, but with Luke, I feel like there’s definitely more to it.
He looks out at nothing, one arm propped on the top of the open window.
Then he peers in at me and says, “I guess I’m just passing along something I learned from someone very special.” Then he leans into the car toward me, the inviting smell of his clean skin and the heat of his body wrapping around my senses, and then his lips touch mine. “It’s not bothering you, is it?” he asks when he pulls only inches away.
But his face is still right there, his warm lips so close I can still taste them—how could I ever say anything but no?
I shake my head slowly. “No …” and am now left wondering if Luke just bewitched me, made me lose