Page 81 of The Love Lie
“Because I’m afraid,” she finishes softly, teetering.
“Because you’re afraid,” he agrees and brushes his thumb across her cheekbone.
“I’m not just afraid, Cooper. I’m terrified.”
“I know.” He presses a soft kiss to her forehead. She’s not sure if they’re still talking about the helicopter or something else, something deeper. “Don’t make me double-dog dare you again, Cuj. Get your pretty little ass in the copilot’s chair. Now.”
She snorts. “Order me around again, cowboy, and you’ll be kissing my pretty little ass instead.”
“You say that like it’s a threat.”
“Isn’t it?”
“How can it be when it’s all I’ve wanted to do for the past seven weeks?”
The hungry gleam in his eye makes her heart skip a beat. A flush creeps up her neck as she goes hot all over. “Twenty minutes you said?”
“Twenty minutes.”
She squeezes her eyes shut, utterly torn.
This is insane.
It’s a death trap.
You’re not doing this.
You’re not actually thinking about doing this.
No.
No.
No.
A flashback to their last night in the Maldives permeates her denial, all stars and sighs and feeling.
Screw it.
She can survive anything for twenty minutes.
Sam squares her shoulders and marches toward the helicopter. Cooper seems to sense this is his one shot because he throws her suitcase into the back seat and then hops in without a word. Buttons are pushed. Seat belts are secured. He flicks switches, spins knobs, and says something into the comms that her anxiety-ridden mind isn’t able to process. A heavy set of headphones slides over her ears, canceling out the roar of the blades spinning faster and faster overhead. The sense of weightlessness grows, until suddenly, the ground slips away and they’re floating. It all feels surprisingly peaceful as they rise higher and higher, like a balloon cast adrift.
Then the wind shifts.
They drop.
And the brutal reality of being hundreds of feet in the air without a safety net comes careening back into focus.
Sam screams.
Cooper laughs.
Bastard.
Another gust of wind slams into them from the side and the helicopter tilts left. She presses her palm against the window as if that might do anything and searches desperately for a handhold while all her organs shove themselves up her throat.
And now I’m coughing. Great.
