Hey Girl (Turn it Up #9)

Chapter 7

7

CHRIS

Me: Are you busy Sunday morning

Mouse: yes

What? No she’s not.

Me: With what?

Mouse: …

Mouse: …

Me: Are you avoiding me?

Mouse: yes… kind of

Me: Why? We’re just texting. My handsome looks can’t make you explode through the phone, it’s been tested.

Mouse: LOL

Me: Did you really just laugh or just type that you did.

Mouse: I really laughed. Sorry, I’m just feeling awkward from…

Me: Let it all out baby. It’s just you, me, and the screen.

Mouse: Okay. From my antics while hopped up on your mom’s special tea, God knows what I did in my sleep and being kissed… for the first time ever.

Me: I’m a KISS THIEF?!?!

Mouse: It’s okay! I… I liked it. Anyway, can we talk about something else?

Me: What is something you’ve always wanted to do?

Mouse: Talk normally.

Me: Besides that.

Mouse: Well…

Mouse: I’m not sure. Something different than I do every day, which isn’t much. I don’t do many fun things, because… you know… it’s hard to get out.

Sweet mother of BLAST… she’s never had fun?

She wants to do something different, that would get her blood pumping, but has a hard time being around people.

I feel the skin in my forehead pull together and I look at the ceiling, stroking my chin thoughtfully.

She gets nervous around people but not necessarily the activities that involve them. And I’m no longer a people, I’m a person. One that’s kissed her like those hot guys in romance novels - I’m winking at you- so I no longer count.

Got it!

Me: Never fear, my princess mouse.

I’ve got just the plan! I’ll pick you up Sunday at 11am!

Mouse: What do you mean you’ve got a plan?

Me: GIF of black cat filing its claws.

Mouse: Chris?

Mouse: Chris, what are we doing???

Notice she said we …

Rebecca

I ’m clenched tight as a spring in the passenger seat of Chris’s two-seater. It’s a bright orange sportscar of some kind. I’m not terrified of the car so much; in fact, I’m kind of interested to see how fast it can go. What’s got me jittery is wondering what’s going to happen today. I’m alone with this guy, and while he’s nice, he’s a loose cannon, and I’m worried I’m going to have a breakdown in public, which would be seriously embarrassing, and make me break down even worse, resulting in paramedics needing to be called, which would be even more embarrassing, not to mention bring more unfamiliar people into the mix, and...

Oh god, I’m spiraling, and I can’t stop it. I’m spiraling right now and we haven’t even started our date, officially. I’m a failure and I suck at life and -

I’m zapped out of my mental tailspin by a loud crinkling sound beside me.

I release the taut muscles in my neck to turn just enough to see Chris is holding out a paper bag to me from the driver’s seat. I look at it a second before blinking up at him.

“I brought a few of these, just in case,” he offers. “I read on Google that they can help with nerves.”

I unwind my arms from myself and thankfully take the bag from him. “Oh…. Thank you.”

God, that’s sweet of him. I start to bring it up towards my face before I think better of it. My heart isn’t thrashing quite as hard as it was only ten seconds ago, and that’s unexpected; normally when I spiral, my heart acts like a jumping bean for ages. Maybe I could just do the bag breathing, but without the bag?

I slowly lower it and give it a try. I pull in air deep through the nose while trying not to make a show of it before expelling it quietly from between my lips.

My breath is still short but becomes steadier as I reflect on how Chris was thoughtful enough to bring a paper bag along and offer it to me without a speck of judgment. I can tell it came from a place of just wanting to be helpful. He even looked it up beforehand, which means, it’s possible he put thought into this date… and still showed up for it. Even knowing what a fucking basket case I am.

“Doing a little better there?” he asks, glancing over and I nod, giving him a thankful thumbs up while trying not to derail the breathing rhythm.

“Good,” he acknowledges as he holds his hand out, letting it hover between us.

What is he doing?

He flexes his fingers a couple times, and before I know what I’m doing, I place my hand in his. Yesterday I’d have been terrified to do that. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s seen a good chunk of all the whacked-out instability I have to offer.

Chris squeezes my hand he’s now holding and carefully lays both of them down to rest on my leg.

Huh… this is nice.

Maybe I can do this.

Maybe just with Chris. With all the care he’s been taking with my sensitivities, I feel like I can entertain the idea of having human interaction… with one person. He’s been so attentive and thoughtful, I could definitely give this a shot.

Yeah… I mean, he’s watched me trip out on his mom’s tea, held me against his shredded body, and when I short-circuited the other day, he not only didn’t run away screaming, he freaking kissed me. This guy’s is already in the Rebecca Hall of Fame - not that he wasn’t already famous, but you catch my drift.

I could have something with him. A light, easygoing, slow relationship…

Maybe.

But that maybe is everything.

Bungee jumping?

I go stiff again as I take in the sign through the windshield of Chris’s car.

Bungee. Jumping.

That’s what happens here.

People strap springy tethers to themselves, throw themselves off a bridge, and cheat death by getting yoinked back up in the air before their body meets the water. They then proceed to boing a few times until the momentum wanes.

I’ve always wanted to try this. The videos I’ve watched have made it look so freeing and such an amazing rush.

“Don’t worry, Mouse,” Chris assures me when he yanks my door open. How’d he get over there? “I’ve reserved the whole place for this timeslot so there will be no other jumpers but us.”

My head tilts up suddenly to regard the grin he gives me, too shell shocked to worry about him taking my hand again and helping me out of the car.

“There’s no one else here?”

“Just a couple of employees, because we need help getting strapped up, of course.” He lightly swings our hands between us. “I mean, I could try to do it myself…” He raises an eyebrow at me, and I know immediately he’s joking.

Though, dang, the idea of being strapped up by this fine ass man…

“No,” I vigorously shake my head anyway, but try to offer up a smile. The least I can do, when he’s trying so hard to win me over.

“So, your daily challenge, my sweet Rebecca, is to allow a stranger to get you harnessed, since that’s the one thing we are doing that’s out of your comfort zone.”

I’m pretty sure leaping off a freaking bridge is out of my comfort zone, bucket list or not.

I never thought I’d be leaning on a person for help through one of my challenging situations, but here I am, squeezing the ever-loving shit out of Chris’s hands as the jump instructor slips a harness on me and secures it around my body. My eyes squeeze tightly shut, and I’m focusing on breathing when Chris’s voice brings me out of it.

“Okay, it’s over.”

I squint open one eye and then the other before letting out a decompressing breath.

Whew.

“The hard part’s over,” he assures me, and I’m surprised to find I don’t flinch when he brings his hands up to my face to remove my glasses and hand them off to the instructor.

Right, wouldn’t want to lose those.

“Now for the fun part,” he gathers me close, and this time I do stiffen and try to pull away when I feel resistance and notice a couple of the carabiners clinking between us.

“Wha-?”

We’re harnessed together.

We. Are Harnessed. Together.

Oh, shit.

“Um…,” I start to mutter aimlessly, before reality starts to wrap around me, one loop at a time. This guy has carried me to bed and kissed me, not to mention held my hand in the car, and again while a stranger strapped me up in a non-kinky way.

“I’ve done this at least fourteen times,” he explains, noting my questioning gesture at our attached harnesses. “But never with a snuggle partner. Come on, there has to be a first in here for me too, right? Or it doesn’t count.”

His arms come over the top of my shoulders, holding me secure, and I get a whiff of his musk that smells like fresh ocean water with a hint of sunblock. Huh. He wears sunblock. How oddly reassuring that he’s smart and responsible enough to use it. Good man.

Hesitantly, I bring my arms up around his body, letting them circle his waist. My hands fumble against the cotton of his t-shirt as I’m not sure where to put them.

“Grip on as tight as you like with those little mouse claws,” I feel the warm breath of his words ruffling the hair on top of my head and I can’t help a small, breathy giggle at the visual of a mouse clinging to the back of his t-shirt.

I vaguely hear the voice of the instructor counting down as if from the other side of a wind tunnel before I feel mine and Chris’s bodies tilting sideways as one.

And then I feel it.

The plunging drop, my stomach doing flips on its way down to my toes, the wind whipping my hair. Exhilaration shuttles up my body as we plunge downward, careening together.

My heart is threatening to explode out of my chest… in a fit of glee. Not panic. Not terror.

Glee.

A delightfully terrified scream claws its way up my throat with a vengeance; angry at being kept inside so long, but ecstatic at being set free. Chris crows right along with me as we barrel closer to the water below. And I’m not afraid. I’m…free.

At the same time that I start to feel the bungee begin to rapidly tighten, my head gets a cool sensation briefly before we’re snapped upwards. A few droplets of water pelt my face, make me realize my hair actually dipped in the water, and it makes rocketing back up in the air all the more thrilling.

I am a badass with wet hair from the water I just bungee jumped towards. I am a golden goddess.

I’m weightless and propelling freely through the air, and if I weren’t strapped and clinging to Chris like a spider monkey, I’d be flailing like a ragdoll.

How the fuck did I get here? Never in my life did I think I’d be wrapped around a rockstar and screaming, for any reason. I don’t have time to consider situations like drug induced shenanigans at a concert or anything sexual, because boing, back down we go. I’m falling again, leaving my stomach floating somewhere up near the bridge rafters. Another blood-curdling shriek shoots from my throat as we plummet back down to the water.

And so it goes…

Boooinnnng!

“AGGGHHHHHHHHHH!”

Boooinng!

“Eeeeeeeeeek!

Boing!

“Gaaahhh!”

We bounce like a slinky a few more times while I scream, and Chris laughs until some dude driving a cute little motorized raft zips over to untether us and give a ride back to the bank. My

head feels like it’s been taken off, shaken, and put back on, but all I can do is laugh breathily through it while my equilibrium returns, piece by piece.

Chris’s arm is slung around me as he basks in his own little adrenaline glow, while I try to figure out once again how the hell my life took this rock-n-roll turn. It’s so confusing that a famous drummer has his arm around me as we speak, but I can’t be bothered to freak out because I’ve got endorphins bouncing around in my bloodstream giving me a thrill that I like.

I barely register arriving at a small dock and stepping out of the raft. My body is rigid, clenched tight as I hold both hands over my heart as if to stop it from leaping out of my chest to go frolicking away.

Chris’s voice sounds like it’s coming from a parallel universe when he asks, “Are you okay? You’re awfully quiet - I mean, you’re always quiet, but… did I screw up? Are you paralyzed by -,”

“THAT WAS SO MUCH FUCKING FUN!”

Was that me? Did that come out of me?

It must have, as I still feel the afterburn of the words screeching up my throat. Chris is standing stock still and bug-eyed, speechless for the first time since I met him.

I said fucking with no stammer. Hell, I said fucking fun with no stammer. It’s like the adrenaline overpowered it or something.

“I wanna go again,” I announce at a slightly quieter octave. Oh my God, I’m a junkie.

“You do?” Chris exclaims from next to me, delight filling his face and making me want to kiss him.

I don’t know what the fuck is happening or how I got here but I’ll ponder the bizarre turn my life has taken later. Right now, I want to sling shot my stomach into orbit again.