Nineteen #2
From the looks of him, that’s exactly what’s happening in his mind.
“You good?”
“I, uh, maybe, but—” He shakes his head slightly, and I notice his skin has gone ghostly white. “No, I don’t think so.”
Well, shit.
“If you’re afraid of heights, why did you agree to do this?”
Phoenix might not be a rocket scientist, but he is smart enough to know what parasailing entails, especially when he watched six of us go before him. So him being up here right now…well, the math ain’t mathin’ for me.
His voice comes out strained and anxious. “I wasn’t about to be the party pooper of the group, and by the time Kason started blowing chunks, I was already clipped in.”
Oh, you beautiful fucking fool.
I’m about to respond when the wind lifts us a bit higher and we hit the end of our rope, causing us to jerk slightly. The sudden movement has Phoenix drawing in a deep breath…and looking straight down at the water below.
“Oh, shit,” he says, breathing heavily. “That’s a long drop.”
“Nix,” I murmur, my best attempt to soothe him. “Nix. Hey, look at me.”
I grab his hand from the strap to snap him out of it, and it’s enough to wrench his attention off the water below.
Those deep brown eyes look lighter in the setting sun as he gazes at me, more of a rich mahogany than almost black.
And it’s the fear in them that has me threading my fingers through his.
“You’re okay,” I tell him earnestly. “You watched all the rest of us do this and come out in one piece, right? Nothing bad is gonna happen.”
“You don’t know that.”
Okay, new tactic.
My thumb traces over the back of his mindlessly. “Then just close your eyes and focus on the wind. How it feels against your skin and whipping through your hair.”
Phoenix visibly swallows before his lids fall closed, listening to my request.
“Okay, now talk to me,” I murmur. “Tell me what’s going through your mind.”
“I can feel my heartbeat all the way in my ass.”
“That’s probably just the way the harness is sitting.”
“Holden—”
“Okay, okay, not helpful.” I pause, wracking my brain some more. “Just think of it like a giant swing, then. That’s where the wind is coming from.”
“We’re five-hundred feet in the air above open water—a drop we would not survive, by the way—and you wanna act like we’re on a goddamn swing set?”
“Why not? It’ll take your mind off it. C’mon, let’s get married.”
His eyes fly open despite the height, and he looks at me like I’ve just grown two extra heads.
“What?”
I arch a brow, giving him a dubious look. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“I can assure you, I don’t.”
“It’s the thing you say when you’re a kid on the swings and someone beside you starts swinging in sync with you.”
A look of relief takes over his face and he starts laughing. Like a real, genuine laugh, and I realize this is the first time I’ve heard it.
And my God, if it isn’t the most incredible sound on this planet.
Even if I have no idea why he’s laughing in the first place.
“You’re in my shower,” he manages to say between chuckles.
My brows shoot up. “I mean, if we’re really talking about this now, then yeah. I remember. Vividly. But I’m not sure what that has to do with—”
“No, no,” he cuts in and laughs some more. “That’s what we would say when that happened. We’d look at the other person and say you’re in my shower. ”
Now it’s my turn to burst out laughing. “What?”
“Yeah,” he says between chuckles. “And then we’d usually jump off right after.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing—”
He shakes his head and rebuts, “No more ridiculous than proposing.”
“I wasn’t proposing. We’re married is just what we said.”
“Doesn’t make it any better.”
Okay, fair point.
I roll my eyes. “You probably call shopping carts a buggy and shit too.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he says, a big smile on his face. “And all soft drinks are called coke.”
“Soda.”
He shakes his head and winks at me. “Not in the South, baby.”
The term of endearment slips so easily from his lips, causing a strange sort of flutter in my stomach. It’s different hearing it now, away from a moment heated with lust and desire.
If only he didn’t clearly regret it leaving his mouth in the first place.
“I didn’t…you know—” He lets out an uncomfortable sort of laugh. “Do me a favor and forget I just said that.”
His cheeks have a pink tint when he meets my gaze, making me want to brush my thumb over them. Feel the heat of his skin radiating into my touch. Cup one in my palm as I drag his mouth to mine and make him forget the heights, the slip-up, his own fucking name.
Maybe that’s why the words spill out of my mouth, low and husky, before I can even attempt to reel them back in.
“Kiss me, and I promise I won’t remember a word of it.”
Phoenix’s eyes drop to my lips immediately, and I swear I’m watching the gears spin in his mind as he thinks about doing just that.
And that’s how I know he’s in this just as deep as I am.
There’s no use in either of us denying it anymore.
Not when proof of this chemistry—these feelings—are staring us straight in the face.
But it’s clear he’s still hell-bent on fighting this when the flush on his cheeks deepens to red, and he glances away.
“You have to stop looking at me like that.”
My eyes follow the lines and planes of his face as I murmur, “I wish I knew how.”
“Holden…”
“Phoenix.”
“We’re being pulled in,” he whispers, keeping his gaze averted.
I glance out in front of us to find he’s right. I was so focused on his face and mouth and just him, I barely realized the line attached to our sail was slowly getting shorter and shorter.
“Nix—”
“No.” Our eyes meet, and I see the plea in his before he even speaks it. “Please, don’t.”
Blowing out a sigh, I focus my attention on the boat as we rapidly descend toward it.
“Stand up, stand up,” the crew member calls as we close in on the boat, and just as quickly as the deck disappeared when we were first released, our feet collide with the surface again.
The guys on the boat whoop and holler, just like they did the first time I went up, and Noah goes as far as holding up eight fingers to give us a score for our landing.
“Well then, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Not at all, even though I can’t say the same for Phoenix, who is back to barely acknowledging my presence.
It’s not until the harnesses are unclipped and we’re ushered off the back deck that I realize I was holding his hand the entire time.
And I didn’t want to let go.