Em dabs the corner of her eye with her pinkie. “Only if you’re lucky, hon. Only if you’re really lucky. I had a date with a guy from the basketball team, and the first thing he said to me was he’s not into oral—says he’s done his research and he’s not interested in having his tongue hacked off later in life.”
“Eww.” I toss a fry and peg her forehead. “I’m eating!”
“That’s because you’re better than he is.” She tosses the fry right back and it lands unceremoniously in the puddle of ketchup on my plate.
Vi reaches over and snaps it up for herself. “If a guy told me he wasn’t up for the breakfast of champions, I’d tell him to take a flying leap off Windy Peak.” Her eyes brighten my way. “Hey, maybe that’s why you’re headed there? Those freaks at the TSE want some oral on tape or they’ll send you both over the edge.”
“You’re both perverts.” I spend the next five minutes straight envisioning Rowen and me back in that dark closet, steaming the tiny cloistered room up with our bodies as his tongue lashes over every last square inch of me. “Okay, so I might be a pervert, too.”
Vi’s lips part, revealing a mouth full of fries. “You are so into him!”
“So what? It’s not like it’s ever going to amount to anything.”
Ember pulls my drink over to herself as if threatening to take a sip. “Then you’ll have to go to Windy Peak. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“I fall off a cliff?” For a second, I envision myself taking a swan dive off that jagged peak and Rowen down at the bottom catching me like those footballs he chases down the field.
“You fall in love,” Vi counters.
“Oh, hon”—Ember takes my straw and baptizes me with a face full of Coke—“she’s already there.”
“No, I’m not.”
But my face burns bright like maybe I am.
Windy Peak is a mere fifteen-minute drive from campus, pushed up against the rocky crags of the Chocolate Mountains on the north facing windy side, thus it’s blustery moniker. It sits at the foot of Laurel Lake where Mom and Dad used to take Braden and me fishing when we were still eager to explore all that nature has to offer with the folks in tow. After we buried Mom, Dad saw fit to bury himself in his work, and those fun times at the lake were all but lost.
I follow Seth’s direction to the bottom where I find my personal sensei himself as he waves and instructs me to hop into his truck for the rest of the journey. Seth drives us slowly up the mountain, and I can’t help but feel slightly kidnapped at the moment. Just as I’m about to text Vi for help, we hit the lookout where we find an RV with what looks like a production crew bustling about. We park and Seth delivers me to Emily, the girl who did my makeup both times before I was shuttled off to a dark room and forced to kiss the boy of my dreams. Wow, when I paint it that way, you’d think I stepped into a fantasy rather than the pile of greasy dog shit I’m forcing myself to believe it is. But Rowen broke my heart all those years ago when he broke Becca’s heart and that of my brother. Why he dumped her and vanished from our lives I will never understand.
Makeup consists of a quick coat of powder and some lip-gloss—and hair nothing more than having my tresses pulled into a low ponytail before having a hardhat smashed over the top of my head.
Once I’m dusted and primped to Emily’s satisfaction, Seth pops up again. “You look great!” His face brightens as what’s left of the sun turns his shiny bald head into a spotlight. “Let’s get you to the guide and go over safety instructions.”
“Safety?” My stomach bottoms out, because although the details on why I’m standing on one of the highest peaks in Moon Ridge are still a little fuzzy, the implication is becoming clear.
“You’ll be fully harnessed. We have a team of first responders ready to roll at the bottom of the cliff should anything go awry. Dexter might even show before we finish up. It’ll be a great afternoon.”
“If I survive.” Fully harnessed? An entire team of first responders? I should be bolting back to the safety of my Honda, Gertrude, whom I have affectionately named after a turtle Mindy and Rowen once had. Hey, if the conversation ever stalls, I guess there’s always Gertrude to get us back on track. Who knew my made-on-a-Friday lemon would come in handy while I’m fully immersed in hostile dating territory?
Seth gathers me up like a mother hen with her chick, leading me into the trailer for safety instructions, and my stomach drops because there are lots of ropes and chains, a harness or two, but there’s no sign of Rowen. An older gentleman with a crap ton of pulleys slung across his shoulders looms over a laptop near the kitchenette.
I glance to Seth. “So, he didn’t show?”
“He’s here.” Seth pulls out his trusty mints and rattles the box at me, but I’m quick to decline. Just the thought of tossing myself down the side of this mountain has my bowels ready to produce a volcanic blowout. The last thing I need is to turn my mouth into an icy cavern.
“He’s already gone through training.” Seth rattles the box once more and gives me that look that suggests a mint might be mandatory with the mean halitosis I’m wielding, but I know for a fact my breath is more than fine. Besides, I’d hate to give Rowen the wrong impression by blasting him with my minty freshness. The last time we both partook, we had a peppermint playdate with our tongues. “We want the first time the two of you come face to face in an open-air environment to be as natural as possible. We don’t want things like hair and makeup, or even training to get in the way of a genuine first response.”
I make a face as the older gentleman dressed like a construction worker heads into his safety spiel. Too bad I can’t seem to retain any of the information he’s jettisoning my way. All I can think about is the fact Rowen Garret showed up again, most likely to prove to his ego he’s the gentleman he’s convinced himself he is. And I’ve shown up because I’m far too stubborn to let him play the hero in this Greek tragedy, and it will be a tragedy, because after watching a brief video on people hopping their way down the face of a mountain, I still have no clue on how to arrive back on solid ground, alive with all my limbs intact.
Seth walks me to the edge of the cliff where I spot Rowen with his back turned to me. A woman has her hand up his shirt adjusting his mic, and I only know that because Seth just stuck a mini speaker down my décolleté and adjusted my own mic pack. I hate to destroy Dexter Houston’s Hollywood fantasy, but little does anyone at the TSE realize they’ve paired together two sworn enemies. Okay, so that might be a little dramatic, but I can’t help it. The icy wind blows into my face and makes my allergies pop up on cue. My eyes water and swell as if I’ve been crying for a year, and I can already predict I’ll have two muddy rivers of mascara running down my cheeks by the time I do a face-plant on the jagged rocks waiting below.
Seth gives me a little nudge those last few feet and shouts, “And we’re live in three, two, one—action!”
Shit!
Rowen turns around, his body framed against the pale autumn sky, his dark hair, those piercing eyes cutting right through me, but it’s his heartwarming smile that disarms me.
“Hello, Sophie.” His lips expand, exposing those twin rows of perfect, straight, sparkling white teeth. I have always admired Rowen and Mindy’s ode to orthodontia, only now it has my adrenaline racing, my heart palpitating to unsafe levels. Swear to God, Rowen Garret’s smile has the capability to kill, and right about now, it looks as if my body is volunteering to be the first victim of that killer smile. A tiny row of lines dig in around his eyes as he looks right at me with those pencil gray lenses, and my soul disintegrates at the sight of him.
And just like that, the butterflies I thought had absconded once my hatred for him infiltrated my heart are right back filtering through my stomach like a coven of angry bats.
“Hey, Row.” I keep it casual as the older gentleman, who tried very hard to arm me with the knowledge I would need to save my life, helps me sit near the edge of the cliff. It takes one glance at the jagged earth
waiting to sink its razor-sharp teeth into my flesh for me to snap back to reality. “Oh no, no, no.” The ground appears to rise and fall as I wobble back and forth like I might pass out. Dear God. A part of me wants to hop right over the edge and get my impending doom over with.
“Whoa.” Rowen lands his arm around my shoulders and scoots in close. That heady thick cologne of his soothes my senses, and just the feel of his strong muscles draped over me like a steel coat helps get my breathing back under control. “I’ve got you.” His warm voice rumbles through me. He leans in and presses his mouth close to my ear. “I won’t let you fall, Soph. I promise.”
Those words. I lean back to get a better look at the boy who once whispered a similar phrase to me after my mother died and then broke his promise. His gaze latches onto mine, and something electric jumps between us. My stomach pinches tight in a white-hot knot just being so close to Rowen, our features fully exposed to the light. But regardless of broken promises, his words bring me an undo level of comfort. And then, just as quick as that comfort came, the violent ninety miles per hour wind that threatens to push me off this ledge takes it away. I have done a lot of foolish things in my life, but sitting on the edge of a cliff, ready to rappel to my death, has to take the deadly cake. This isn’t going to end well. Not very many things do in my life.
I glance down quickly and wince, staving off the urge to army crawl all the way back to my car.
“What the hell am I doing?” My chest bucks as I struggle to catch my breath once again. “I didn’t realize I was afraid of heights until this very moment.” I wipe tears from the corner of my eye. “God—that’s how stupid I am.”
“There’s not a stupid bone in your body, Sophie. I’m here for you. Everything will turn out all right.” Rowen tightens his grip over me as he lands a kiss to the top of my head, and I startle. Our eyes lock once again, and for a second, I’m hopeful Rowen and I will eschew rappelling for something far more heart stopping—those kisses I’ve come to look forward to. But deep down, I know that friendly graze he just offered up was more of a pity kiss, a don’t-freak-the-hell-out-and-land-us-both-in-the-ER kiss, a protective older brother kiss, and that last reality is the most depressing of them all.
The crew spurs on our guide, and a team of eight men help both Rowen and me dangle over the edge.
THE EDGE! My hands knot into a death grip over the flimsy cable that’s keeping me from meeting my maker. My entire body shakes like a dog staring down a free trip over the rainbow bridge. And honest to God, if I see my mother appear with open arms, I will find a way to eviscerate Dexter Houston and every single one of his minions before I go to the proverbial light.
Shit, shit, shit! I am going to KILL Vi. And then I’ll probably kill Ember, too, for the simple fact she was a far more willing party in this social nightmare than I ever was. And how is it possible that the two of them are most likely snug in their matching Leland jerseys while I’m staring at the pulsating ground, dangling off Windy Peak with nothing more than Silly String securing me to this blue spinning rock? I bet they’re stuffing their faces full of fries at the Underground while engaging in a heated debate over the health benefits of orgasms. Lucky bitches.
The kind, elderly guide assures us he’ll be rappelling right along with us just a mere fifteen feet to our left in the event of an emergency.
Fifteen feet? Swear to God, if he were within kicking range, his balls would be in peril. Fifteen fucking feet! How the hell is that kind of a buffer going to help when I’m busy sailing to my death with my limbs helplessly flailing like a cat trying to claw its way out of a tub?
Rowen wraps a strong arm around my waist, warming me from head to toe with the gesture, and I don’t hesitate snuggling into him, my legs wrapping around his like a vine. “I’m here, Soph. We can take our time.” He buries his lips over the top of my head and warms me with his hot breath. And in the motherfucker of all ironies, this, right here, is heaven. Why did I need to end up participating in some cliff-dangling, death-defying stunt just to find paradise with the boy of my dreams? It doesn’t seem fair. How my entire life is panning out to be a hellish nightmare is beyond me.
Rowen pulls back, and our gaze snaps together as if we were magnetized. With Rowen around, there is no earth, no sky, no cliff to see. He is all-encompassing, the only thing with value that my eyes demand to feast on.
“I got you.” His fingers dig into my waist just enough to make me buck. “We’ll go slow. It won’t hurt, I promise.”
A smile twitches on my lips, and I can’t help it. “You realize how dirty that sounds, right? Is that the script you stick to before you take the penis plunge?”
“What?” He pulls back as if I’ve just offered up a fresh slap, and our bodies sway in the breeze.
“Oh God!” I wail as I do my best to tuck my entire existence into Rowen Garret’s enormous chest.
“You’re okay.” His warm breath sears over my neck, and as nice as it feels, I still wish to God I could crawl right out of my skin and back to safety. “It’s okay, Soph. I got you. We’re going to do this, together. Remember when we used to do things together?”
“Ha!” I laugh right in his chest. Okay, so it would have had much more punch if I had laughed in his face, but it’s taking me a moment to lift my head to his. I manage to contort myself enough to look him in those beautiful eyes once again, and he unleashes that lethal smile as his arms pull me in closer than I ever thought possible. Rowen is thick and strong, and his warm body wrapped around mine like a shield feels as if everything is right—despite the fact we’re suspended midair over one of the highest peaks in Moon Ridge. “We did do a lot of things together. Like me beating you at board games.” I can’t help but give a snide grin. Beating Rowen at board games used to be the highlight of my Friday nights.
“Hey—you only beat me because you cheated.” Those irresistible dimples of his go off, and something deep down in my solar plexus both sears with heat and relaxes.
I laugh through tears, doing my best to elbow him for the dig. “I only cheated because I was trying to facilitate the game along. You were grateful, and you know it.”
The wind picks up, and a horrific wounded animal-like groan escapes me. Oh God. So not sexy. Kill me.
Rowen lands his warm palm over the back of my head, gently forcing me to look at him. “On three we rappel.” He nods as if it were more of a command than an idea. “Let go just like they told you. I’ll be right here.”
“No!” my voice shrills as I secure my death grip over him. “You said you wouldn’t let go.” I burrow into him more than either of us thought possible, establishing the fact I’m not hopping away so we can bounce down the face of this granite slab like a couple of granola crunching idiots. “I’m not leaving you, Rowen. You’re going to have to be the one to get us down, because if you don’t, the Cougars will have to find another quarterback to bounce the cheerleaders on his lap come Friday.”
“Geez.” Rowen lets out a groan—most likely because it’s true, but that expression on his face lets me know he’s slightly affronted. “Three.” And just like that, we fall ten feet to our next stop on this invisible elevator from hell with Rowen testing out the durability of the safety harness and me testing out the durability of my vocal cords. “We did it.” Rowen gives a hesitant laugh as if this news shocked even him. “We’re okay, Soph.” He’s still firmly wrapped around me, holding onto his own rope that hangs just inches from mine. The wind picks up again, threatening to end our good time and our lives. The ropes whip around the two of us and twist while doing a little dance in the breeze.
“God—we’re going to tangle our lines and free-fall to our death!” I shout so loud my voice comes back to me as an echo. “Deep down, I always felt that we belonged together—but the afterlife wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
Rowen pulls back and examines me with that mischievous schoolboy smile. “You really think that?” He rubs his sexy facial scruff over my cheek, and I die a little
on the inside. My eyes close while enjoying the surprising hell out of this quasi-sexual moment.
“Do I think what?” I glance down, and shockingly the ground looks ten times farther than it did when we were perched on the top of this Matterhorn. Clearly I am not very good at the art of thinking. Had I thought this fiasco through, I would be laughing off the stupidity of it all while enjoying a latte back on campus.
“You think we should be together?” His finger caresses the underbelly of my chin, and our eyes snap into position like a couple of Legos.
A breath hitches in my throat, and suddenly this very surreal moment grows all too serious. God, did I just confess that? What the hell is wrong with me? First, I take up cliff diving as my new favorite pastime, and then I confess to my one and only childhood crush that we should be meshed together for the rest of our albeit short lives? I don’t really feel that way, do I?
My mouth opens, and a series of choking sounds emit. “Sorry.” My lips quiver as if tears were on the horizon. “I didn’t mean that.” I bury my face in his neck like some sort of kneejerk reaction and take in his woodsy scent, the feel of his warm skin. “You’re wearing the same cologne.” It comes out weak as I gaze up at his diamond colored eyes. It’s funny how midair suspension can debilitate that filter in your brain that prevents you from sounding like an ass twenty-four seven.
“I know.” He winces and his dimples dig in, making my ovaries implode on command. Damn Rowen Garret for looking so hot while dangling in thin air. “I’m a creature of habit. You smell good, too.” He tucks his face near my ear and gives an audible sniff. “Roses.”
“Thank you.” I back up to take in the full dimple effect he’s got going on. “It’s actually my deodorant protecting you from the body odor I’m expending profusely, but it’s nice to know it hasn’t cut out on me yet.”
A dull laugh rumbles through him as he holds me close. His fingers press in just slightly, and it sends that sweet spot between my thighs quivering for him. Vi and Em might be discussing orgasms, but I’m having one at fifteen hundred feet.
The Social Experiment Page 9