The Rivals - Dylan Allen Page 0,334

the basket swinging.

“You’re safe, I swear,” he says. I just stare straight ahead at the gondola that’s perched on wire over the yawning mouth of the seemingly bottomless valley and suddenly I feel sick. To my stomach.

“This is a mistake. This thing is a death trap, Stone. And so is that.” I point at the gondola parked on the cable ahead of us. The one we’re supposed to bungee from. It looks like a perfectly sturdy gondola but, this high up, there’s no such thing as safe. There’s only lucky, or dead. I squeeze my eyes shut and wrap my arms around myself as tightly as I can. My breaths come fast, but I can’t seem to get enough air. “Did I actually agree to this? I would never do anything so reckless. I must have been in a trance.”

He laughs but puts his hands on my shoulders and massages them. “Take a deep breath, Goddess. And then look at me.”

“I’m afraid,” I whisper, my eyes still closed tight.

“Look at me,” he repeats and squeezes my shoulders. I turn my head to the left before I open them. He’s looking at me with a tenderness, so fierce and vast that it makes me want to cry.

“This is your biggest fear, right? Dying young? It used to be mine, too. Until I met a giver who watered me, so I grew into a person who was more afraid of not living than I was of dying.”

“Who was that dumbass?” I grumble. He chuckles and shakes his head at me, but his smile is like a break in the clouds and takes the edge off my anxiety. “You said you wanted an adventure. Well, here it is. Or was that just talk?”

“No, I just didn’t realize I’d be jumping to my death today. I mean,”

“And just imagine what it’s going to feel like to do it, and not die. What could you possibly be afraid after that?”

That resonates. I want that back – that fearlessness that was innate to me once.

As if he read my mind, Stone hugs me and presses his lips to the top of my head. I look up to ask him This time when my stomach lurches, it’s not fear that it’s reacting to. I forget that I’m about to throw myself out of this gondola with nothing but a rope tied to my ankle.

Because even surrounded by all of this beauty and all of this danger, none of it is as compelling as him. His adventurous spirit is contagious and he’s so damn gorgeous.

But he’s also really annoyingly relaxed.

“Aren’t you scared?” I ask him.

“Hell yeah,” he answers with a nervous smile. “But I also know my fear is unfounded. I have more to fear getting on the plane back to Colombia than I do bungee jumping. Besides, I’ve done it before and it’s the closest I’ve ever come to flying, the closest I’ve ever been to the sky. It’s transformative.”

His smile radiates excitement and confidence and I find myself smiling back.

“Okay, I’ll follow you.”

“Good girl, one step at a time,” he says and then turns toward the gondola. I give an apologetic smile to the guide who brought us out, “Sorry for the hysterics.”

He waves it off and gives me a thumbs up. “You did good, I’ve had people start speaking in tongues and shit.” I laugh at the visual and use that moment of levity to force myself to step onto the gondola.

It’s even worse than I thought it would be. Windowless and glass bottomed with a six-inch-wide opening that divides into two separate compartments, it offers no refuge from the view of the surrounding expanse. My fear takes a backseat to my awe at the wild blue yonder above and the craggy faced valley that surrounds us. It’s like being at the top of the world. I can see all the way to the Sea of Cortez and the horizon has never been so far away; it really does look like the edge of the world.

I peer over the side just as Stone says, “Don’t look down.”

It’s too late and I get a glimpse of the 300-foot drop. I yelp and slam my eyes shut and try to catch my breath but all I see behind my closed lids is the seemingly bottomless drop to the river below. There’s absolutely nothing between me and the canyon floor.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter, and turn away and head back to the cable car. My trajectory is stalled