Page 53 of My Fearless Fake Fling

Fifteen:

“Where are we going now?” I asked. My girl parts finally got a Lennon reprieve at about 3:30 this morning. Of course, I didn’t complain. Len loved me and he showed me in every position he knew. I think he made up a few on the fly.

We’d been driving for about twenty minutes.

That was when he turned to make the drive off the highway. Up ahead of us I could see a tall, unfinished bridge. Tall and unfinished. I got a bad feeling. A booth which looked like a toll booth sat to the driver’s side. Len eased to a stop and rolled down his window.

“Welcome to Jump,” the girl in the booth said in greeting. “Will you be jumping or observing today?”

“Jumping, naturally.” Len winked at her, that flirty, sexy wink that made all the girls’ panties wet.

“Up the drive, you’ll turn to the left,” she said. “Have fun, and be safe.”

It wasn’t until he started driving again that what he’d said sunk in. “Jumping? What do you mean, jumping? Who’s jumping and from where?”

“We are, baby. From that bridge.”

My mouth hung open and all I could manage was a few squeaks as he turned the truck to the left and drove into parking lot.

“You still trust me?” he asked.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. “Yes.” Because I did. Even more now.

“You’ll be hooked to bungees and fall over water. You’ll be perfectly safe. My friend owns this place. You want to leap from an airplane, this is the next step.”

Yes, I had to jump from an airplane before we left for the open sea. Crazy Kami wouldn’t step foot on that vessel. I nodded my head in defiance of the old me. “Let’s do this, then.” And I hopped out of the pickup.

My stomach began that nauseous cramping bit when Len sat me down to sign the stack of wavers and consent forms. He signed his no problem. My hand didn’t want to write my signature. Mentally, I yelled at my hand, told it we had to do this and to grow up.

My hand called me a series of mean names, tried to tell me I wasn’t the boss of it and I needed my head examined. I never had this issue with my hand when I went to jump out of a plane. I wonder if that was because deep down, I knew I wouldn’t back out today.

Finally, in sync with my hand, I scribbled my name or initials where appropriate and handed the forms off.

A tall man with a prominent scar cutting through his eyebrow approached us. “Len, buddy. It’s been a while.” The man had a broad, white smile.

“Sure has,” said Len. “I’ve been busy. Setting sail end of next week.”

Then, as if the man had just noticed me, he said, “Hello. And who might you be?”

“I’m Kami,” I said, holding my hand out to him.

As the man shook it, Len moved in close to press his front to my back. “This is my girlfriend, Jake. She’s sailing out with me.”

“Kami—the girl—the one?”

Len punched Jake in the gut, and it looked pretty hard. Jake made anoomphnoise and stepped back on one foot.

“Got it,” he coughed out. “Nice to meet you, Kami.”

What was that about?

“Rude much?” I asked Len.

Len simply shrugged. “Now we have an understanding.”

“You couldn’t have used your words?”

“For some guys, words aren’t enough.”

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