I scroll back up to the top of the entry to “early life.” I find out that his birthday is November 3, that he played football for Carolina before he came to Springville, and that he’s originally from Atlanta, where he played football in high school and college. He’s the oldest of two boys in his family, and his parents are still alive. Further down, there’s a lot of stuff about statistics that I don’t understand, and even a breakdown of how well he’s played season by season. Wow. People really get into this stuff.
One thing that catches my attention is a short paragraph about someone named Chris Payne. Apparently, Knox and Chris were good friends in high school and played football together. The article says that both of them were considered as having the potential to go professional, before Chris was injured on the field and…
I stop reading and draw in my breath. My heart starts to thud painfully in my chest.
Knox’s friend suffered a spinal cord injury. According to the article, he’s a paraplegic now.
I sit for a long time without moving. I don’t know what to do, how to react about this. Irrationally, I feel kind of upset that Knox didn’t tell me about it, especially when I told him what I’m studying. But there’s no reason he should have, I tell myself. After all, it’s not exactly a happy story, and he’s not under any obligation to tell me anything about his life.
Still, I feel kind of… betrayed. I don’t know why.
I close my laptop, vaguely unsettled. I try to work a little more, but it’s no use. My brain won’t focus on the literature. In the end, I give up, pack up my stuff, and call it the day. I drive home from the library, not sure if I’m hoping to run into Knox, or if I’m hoping to avoid him. In the end, the decision is made for me. Knox’s white SUV isn’t in his driveway when I get home, and it’s still gone that night when I take Zeus out for his walk. When I turn out the lights and go to bed, I can’t stop myself from listening for him to get home, but in the end I fall asleep, still waiting.
12
knox
I knock on Ivy’s front door the next morning around ten. When she opens it, I see she’s dressed simply, in a plain, fitted white T-shirt, faded blue jeans that mold to her shapely thighs, and running shoes. Her hair is tied back in a simple ponytail.
She looks freaking amazing.
“You said to dress for activity,” she says uncertainly, looking down. “Is this okay?”
“It’s great. You look great,” I tell her pulling her toward me for a deep kiss. “In fact, if we don’t leave right now, I’m gonna push you back inside and we’ll never go anywhere for the rest of the day.”
She looks at me impishly through her dark lashes. “I wouldn’t mind that,” she says in a wicked little voice.
I groan, already feeling the tent starting in my shorts. “Dammit, cupcake, you’re not helping.” I grab her hand. “Come on. We gotta get out of here.”
I lead her down the stairs to the Tahoe, threading my fingers through hers. It feels good to hold her hand. Natural. So much so that I don’t want to let go. When we get to the car, I detach my fingers from her regretfully and open the door so she can climb in.
“Nice car,” she murmurs as she sinks back into the leather seats.
“Thanks.” I close the door and jog over to the driver’s side. As we’re buckling up, she says, “So, where are you taking me? You never said.”
I flash her a grin. “You’ve got two choices. Bungee jumping, or rock climbing.”
“What?!” she sputters.
“Or, we could start with bungee jumping, then go rock climbing,” I murmur, considering.
“No.” She shakes her head. “No, no, no. I don’t know how to do either of those things.”
“No one knows how to do anything the first time they do it,” I point out. “That’s sort of the whole idea: to try something new.”
“But…” she starts to protest. She’s really gonna resist me on this, I can tell. But I’m not backing down. This girl needs to live a little.
“No buts,” I say firmly. “Choose.”
“But I don’t get it,” she says, shaking her head. “I thought bungee jumping was something people only did on vacations. How is there even a place to do that in Springville?”
“There isn’t,” I chuckle. “But there is a place about a hundred miles away from here. There’s a company that does jumps off the high bridge over Split Rock Canyon. I checked. Normally, they only take groups of four or more, but they have space for us with another group, if we’re interested.”
Her eyes are dark and wide. She’s scared. But she’s also intrigued.
“Have you ever bungee jumped?” she asks me.
“Nope. But they take beginners all the time.” I give her a reassuring smile. “The company looks like it has a good reputation. And we’re lucky to live so close to a place to do this. There aren’t a lot of places to bungee jump in the U.S.”
There’s silence in the car as she thinks, and I’m pretty sure she’s gonna just choose the rock climbing. Then she opens her mouth slightly. For a second, nothing comes out.
“Okay,” she says then, in a small voice.
Shit. I’m impressed. “Great,” I say. “Bungee jumping it is. I’ll call the company and confirm the reservation,” I take out my phone. “Oh, and you might wanna go back inside and grab a jacket. It might be a little cold on the top of the bridge if it’s windy.”
On the drive, Ivy’s pretty quiet at first. I don’t push her to talk. Instead, I turn on the radio, scanning the channels until I find a station that’s playing old country music. I start singing along with the lyrics until she starts to laugh. After a while, a song comes on that she knows, and she starts singing along with me. By the time we get to the place, she’s loosened up a bit, even though her body language is still tense.
We go inside the shop and I give my name, then they take us to a room filled with equipment that’s set up like a classroom, with a dozen or so chairs lined up in front of a long table. We’re the first ones in the group to arrive, but pretty soon two other couples come in. We all introduce ourselves and sit down. Their names are Jess and Andrea, and Kevin and Lauren. Only Kevin has done this before. Next to me, Ivy seems to relax a little bit. I think it’s helping her to have other first-timers there.
Two instructors come in next, Rich and Stephanie.They both look to be in their late twenties to early thirties. Rich is lean and rugged, with closely-cropped brown hair. Stephanie is a compact, muscular blond. Both of them have the permanently tanned skin of people who spend a lot of time outside. The two of them take turns telling us about what bungee jumping is, explaining the equipment, and giving us a rundown of what to expect when we’re out there. I glance over at Ivy while they talk, and see that her face is looking pale and serious. I reach over and take her hand, and begin to stroke the palm softly with my thumb. Ivy looks up at me, and when her eyes meet mine I smile reassuringly. Her face softens and she returns my smile, squeezing my hand a little.
Eventually, we all pile into a big van and head out to the site. It’s a bridge over a deep, wide canyon, with a winding river below. As we exit the van and the instructors start taking equipment out of the back, the tension in Ivy’s face returns. “Hey,” I say softly, leaning over to brush my lips against her forehead. “This is supposed to be fun, remember? You look like you’re going to a funeral.”
“Let’s just hope it isn’t my funeral,” she jokes, but her is voice shaky.
“Come on,” I say, and nudge her with my shoulder. “Just relax and enjoy it. They told us everything we need to do. Just follow their instructions and we’ll be fine.”
Rich and Stephanie hand out harnesses and helmets to each of us and talk us through putting them on. Then they go around the group and test everything, making final adjustments. One of the other women, Andrea, gets a little freaked out, and she starts to make noise about backing out of the jump. Interestingly, it seems to have a calming effect on Ivy, to know there’s someone here who’s
even more scared than she is. I notice her shoulders square a bit as she draws herself up, a look of determination in her eyes.
Rich talks us through the process again, making sure no one has any final questions. “Okay,” he says when he’s finished. “Who wants to be first?”
Kevin volunteers right away. The others watch intently as he gets hooked onto the bungee and steps onto the jump platform. When he’s ready, he leans forward. Just as the instructors taught us to do, he does a Superman dive, as though he was diving into a swimming pool. Ivy draws in her breath as she watches him fall downward, the bungee trailing after him. Then suddenly, the line goes taut and he springs back upwards, whooping loudly. The others raise their fists and cheer.
I go next. Instead of doing the forward Superman dive, I decide to do the backward plunge. As Rich is hooking me in, yanking on everything to make sure the straps are secure, my eyes lock on Ivy. She’s looking at me like she’s afraid for me. I grin at her reassuringly. Adrenaline starts to flow through my veins. The bungee is about two and a half inches in diameter. That’s what’s gonna keep me alive: a two and a half inch wide rubber band.
My feet are bound together so I shuffle out onto the platform. Rich is holding onto the harness. He counts down from three and lets go. I give Ivy a thumbs up and a wink, and then I jump backwards into the abyss.
It’s fucking crazy. The bridge is falling away from me. The wind is whooshing past my ears. For a second, all I see is sky, and then as my body rotates so I’m falling headfirst, the canyon and the water below. The ground is racing up to meet me. Then, a gentle pull starts to slow me down, just as I start to get a little nervous. Blood is rushing to my head.
I come to a stop, and then I’m being pulled upward again. At the top of the arc, there’s a moment where my stomach drops out, like I’m on a roller coaster. Then I’m falling down again, stopped again toward the bottom by another pull on my hips, but not as strong this time.
At the top this time, I yank on the strap connecter thing to release my feet like Rich told us to do, so I can sit upright for the ride back to the platform. The red connecter comes down and snaps into my harness, and starts to haul me back up. It’s only now that I notice that there are screams and applause coming down to me from above. I think I hear Ivy’s voice, screaming loudest of all.
When I get back up to the top and they unstrap me, Ivy runs over to me, hugging me like she’s relieved. “Oh, my God!” she says. “How was it?”
“Awesome!” I grin.
Her eyes are shining. “I’m going next,” she whispers bravely.
“You’re gonna be great.” I kiss her, still feeling a little dizzy and unsteady on my feet. My stomach does this weird flip thing, almost like it felt when I was on the bungee. I’m not sure if it’s because of the return to earth, or Ivy.
I watch as she steps up to Stephanie and has the bungee strapped to her feet. She stands there quietly, face pale but determined. Her feet bound together now, she hobbles onto the platform and faces forward, opting for the Superman drive. In spite of myself, I hold my breath in anticipation for her. Stephanie counts backwards, and Ivy falls forward into space. Then she’s gone.
For one second there’s silence.
Then, far below, I hear a shriek of exhilaration and triumph.
Fucking Ivy. I grin so wide I feel like my face is gonna crack. She’s done it.
13
ivy
“Oh, my God!” I gush to Knox after I get back onto the platform and Stephanie unhooks me. “It was so amazing! I want to do it again!”
Knox bursts out laughing. “We only got one jump each,” he tells me. “If I’d known you were gonna be such a fucking daredevil, I would have bought the day package with more jumps.”
“Well, maybe we can come back sometime?” I say. The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I realize I’ve just basically asked to do something with Knox again. Like I’m assuming we’ll keep doing things together. I clamp my mouth shut, and almost open it again to assure him I didn’t mean it like that. But I’m pretty sure if I keep talking I’ll just screw it up more, so I don’t let myself say another word.
Thankfully, Lauren’s about ready to do her jump now, so both Knox and I stop talking to watch her. Like me, she’s doing the Superman dive, and she screams all the way down, as the rest of us laugh and shout encouragement. For the rest of the time, we focus on the others jumping and don’t talk about anything else.
On the ride back to the jump school, everyone’s giddy and animated. No one chickened out, which apparently sometimes happens according to Rich. I’m glad I didn’t know that, otherwise I might have been tempted to let my fears get the better of me. But gosh, I’m so glad Knox talked me into this. It was terrifying, yes. But I feel like I’m on top of the world. I feel like a badass. Like I can do anything.
I’m not sure I’ve ever felt like a badass in my life.
It’s awesome.
After we’ve said our goodbyes to the instructors and the other couples back at the school, Knox and I climb back into his car and head for home. The whole way, I’m chattering at him like a maniac, but I can’t stop. It’s like the adrenaline rush won’t let me shut up. I can tell Knox is amused by the way the corners of his mouth keep going up when he looks at me.
“Stop making fun of me,” I complain. I just barely resist the urge to stick my tongue out at him.
“What?” he protests. “How am I making fun of you?”
“You’re doing that thing with your mouth,” I frown. “Like you’re trying not to laugh at me.”
“I am trying not to laugh,” he admits. “But it’s not because I’m making fun of you. It’s great to see you so keyed up.” He looks at me and grins. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
I sigh and roll my eyes. “Thank you, Knox.” It’s getting pretty old, actually, always having to thank this guy who seems to live to prove me wrong. In this case, though, he deserves a more sincere expression of gratitude than I just gave him. Today was one of the best days I’ve had in a long time. “No,” I say, shaking my head. “For real, Knox. Thank you. I would never have done something like this if you hadn’t basically railroaded me into it.”
“I know,” he nods. “You just needed a push. Literally, in this case,” he says, eyes twinkling.
I laugh, remembering how Stephanie did practically have to push me off the platform to get me to jump.
“So,” he continues. “You gonna be up for it the next time I suggest doing something you’ve never done before?”
My heart starts hammering in my chest as I take in his words. He wants to do more things with me. I try to tell myself that it’s just because we happen to live next door to each other, that it’s really nothing more than that. “Okay,” I manage, hoping my voice sounds casual. “I’ll at least try to be more open.”
“Good girl.”
“Um, you know calling me a girl is kind of sexist, right?” I tease.
“Sorry, cupcake.”
“Dammit!” I fire back, mock-angry.
He grins at me wickedly. “I could call you daredevil instead.”
“I’m hardly a daredevil,” I demur, but secretly I’m proud that someone like Knox could even think that about me for a second. Even if he’s mostly kidding. It feels good that he would see me in a way that literally no one else in my life ever would. Like he knew something about me that I didn’t even know about myself.
We pull up in front of the condos, and Knox throws the car into park. I take a deep breath and let it out, sorry the date (it’s not a date, Ivy, I tell myself furiously) is over. I’m about to open the door and thank Knox again when he says:
“So, you up for some dinner? I thought we could take Zeus out quick and go grab some pizza or something.”
“Sure,” I say casually, feeling almost faint with relief and happiness. “I could go for some food.”
Knox takes me to a popular pizza place downtown, where we order beers and argue over wh
at kind of pizza to get. In the end, we agree to do half and half: pepperoni and mushroom (him) and Canadian bacon/pineapple (me). I’m ravenous by the time the food arrives, which I think might be the aftermath of the adrenaline. Knox is funny and even sweet as we eat. He doesn’t even seem to notice how many women, and even a few men, are casting glances toward our table.
“You do realize that people are staring at us, right?” I finally say, nodding toward one particularly obvious group of twenty-something women who keep giggling and looking our way.
Knox merely shrugs. “Yeah. Whatever. It comes with the territory of being a pro football player. Honestly, it’s been nice being in a new town and having less of that, but it was bound to start eventually.”
I look back over at the women, feeling kind of conspicuous despite Knox’s casual attitude. I wonder if they’re talking about us — about how weird it is that someone as hot and famous as he is is with someone as average as I am.
“You seem kind of popular with the ladies,” I can’t help but say, and instantly regret it. I know I sound jealous. Hell, I am jealous, to be truthful.
“Ivy,” Knox says in a low voice, his eyes uncharacteristically serious. He takes one of my hands in his enormous one. “Yes. I’ll be honest with you. NFL players get a lot of tail.” I flinch at the word, and his eyes flicker. “Sorry. But it’s the truth. Teams are always surrounded by jersey chasers. But I’m here with you, okay?”
He stares at me until I’m forced to return his gaze. My face is flaming. I feel ridiculous. I didn’t mean to have this conversation.
“Knox, I… I’m sorry.” God, I am so freaking mortified right now. “Look, I was just making an observation. It’s not a big deal. I mean, it’s not like we’re dating or anything right?” My voice goes up at the end in a little squeak. I meant it to sound lighthearted, but I’m afraid I just sound slightly demented.
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