Page 64 of Ice To Meet You

Both Matteo and I looked up. A menacing dark cloud loomed over us and his demeanour changed in an instant.

“We need to get down off the line. A storm’s coming in.”

As if to confirm his guess, a rumble of thunder echoed through the surrounding trees.

“Now,” he said, his brows drawn.

I scowled at the heavens. So much for the weather report. Storms had definitely not been mentioned when I made theterrible decision to wear the world's smallest shorts. I looked at the zip wire.

“Erm, aren’t we hanging on a giant metal rope attached to a very tall tree? Isn’t that essentially a lightning conductor?”

He avoided my gaze, instead running his eyes around our surroundings.

“Matteo?”

Finally, he sent me a tight smile. “It’s okay.”

I’m gladhethought things were hunky dory.

“But how are we going to get down?”

He formed a line with his lips, furrowing his brow. “Look, we’re close. We’re going to have to pull ourselves in.”

“Pullourselvesin?”

“Yes. There’s no instructor with us …”

I rolled my eyes. “Because you had to be all gung-ho, Mister I’ve-done-this-before-with-no-wires-and-no-commonsense.”

He stared at me, the corner of his mouth peaking. “You know, you’re beautiful when you’re terrified.”

“I’m not terrified—I’m furious.”

“Channel that energy and pull yourself in.”

I looked at the platform temptingly close, then back at Matteo.

He nodded. “You can do this. It’s going to be an effort, but we’re going to try. Together.”

I bit back a bitter laugh. I wasn't sure I liked Matteo’s idea of “together.” I clamped my jaw and spun my harness around, the rain falling heavier now. I reached up to grab the wire, my gloves slipping as the first giant drops of icy rain fell on us.

With my first pull, I moved about three centimetres before coming to a stop. The swing of the harness sent another flash of pain into my right buttock.

I let out a shriek. “I can’t move. The pulley won’t budge.”

Matteo pushed away heavy drops of rain from his eyes. “I’m sorry for what I’m about to do.”

“Sorry?”

With a shake of his head, Matteo placed one hand on each of my buttocks. “Pull!” he shouted above the sound of the now deluge.

I froze. What the hell was he doing?

“Pull, Esmé. Pull yourself along.”

“Okay,” I shouted, my voice competing with a crack of thunder. With his push and my pull, I advanced about ten centimetres along the wire, but Matteo only sent himself further away from me, back onto the course.

The rain fell down his cheeks in rivulets and he wiped the water from his face before gripping his bottom lip in his teeth and swinging his legs high. With a marathon effort, he wrapped his feet around the wire.

---