Page 140 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
Dove shook her head. “No, I did it last night before we got back on the tram. Anyway, I doubt the people who captain the balloon would be cool with me doing that.”
“Bummer,” Liv pouted. “Imagine showering Albuquerque with remains.”
“You have some issues,” I said, tapping the table. “Come on, we have to get ready for this thing. It’s going to set us behind a day, just so you know.”
Dove shrugged and slid out of the booth, stretching before lazily flinging an arm around my waist and tugging me into her side.
“Another extra day with you, then?” she said into my ear, before pressing a kiss to the outer shell.
I flushed, glancing around. The café was mostly empty. No one was watching us.
“Ugh,” Liv groaned behind us. “Get a room.”
“We can’t,” Dove said sweetly, as my stomach somersaulted at Liv’s words. “You’re always in it.”
I wasn’tsure what was more off-brand for me, that I was standing inside the basket of a balloon, willingly putting my life in danger, or that I hadn’t googled the accident statistics yet. I’d been tempted—my fingers twitching ever so slightly toward my phone at least half a dozen times as we made our way to the launch site.
It was muscle memory. A dusty compulsion, really—born from that desperate need to feel in control of something far outside it. I had resisted, distracting myself by watching how good Dove looked behind the wheel of my car—the way her arm lazily rested on the window, her other hand loosely grasping the wheel. The sun cast a warm, golden glow across her skin, and her sunglasses perched low on the bridge of her nose.
It had helped.
Living carefully had always been my baseline. I followed instructions to a T. I colored inside the lines. I planned things down to the pill. But the past two weeks had slowly loosened that grip. And now, this balloon ride… it felt like the ultimate surrender. I wondered what Dr. Mathers would make of it all.
I wasn’t sure what I even made of it.
“Okay,” said a bright voice, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts. “My name is Gia, and I’ll be your pilot today.”
I turned to her, taking in her strong frame and impressive height, sun-kissed skin, and the messy braid that dangled down her back. Freckles were scattered across her cheeks, and she wore a casual kind of confidence that almost had me trusting her—while simultaneously making me want to demand her credentials on the spot.
She leaned against the wicker basket as the balloon rippled above us like a sleeping beast, the burner flaring occasionally with a deep hiss.
I swallowed.
“Now, there are just a few things we have to cover before liftoff,” Gia continued, her hands gesturing animatedly as she spoke. “Number one, this basket does not have seatbelts, and if that makes you nervous, don’t worry. No one ever falls out. Well, only if they’re stupid. That being said, please hold onto the internal handles during takeoff and landing, okay? They’re here for a reason.”
My fingers curled tighter around the handle I was already holding, and I felt Dove laugh silently beside me.
“Number two, please do not lean over the edge when we’re in the sky. The view is going to be breathtaking, but trust me when I say you can take it all in without dangling your phone or limbs over the side.”
My eyes immediately flicked to Liv, who was sitting on the edge of the basket, her legs kicking through the open air like a carefree child on a swing. When she caught my eye, she winked—then feigned falling, leaning backward with a look of mock terror, her mouth open in an inaudible scream.
I tore my gaze back to Gia, not before shooting Liv a glare.
“Three, landing can be bumpy. That doesn’t mean we’re crashing,” Gia said, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I’ll let you know when we’re close. All we do is bend our knees slightly and brace. Do not lock your legs and try to avoid screaming if you can.”
Dove nodded beside me, a bright beam on her face, exuding that uninhibited joy that always seemed to radiate out of her. She was leaning casually against the basket now, her arm slung behind me, resting lightly on the wicker. I could feel her arm graze my back whenever she moved or swayed, and I could feel the heat of her.
The warmth of her presence seemed to bleed through the air between us. It was both steadying and terrifying.
I swallowed again and diverted my attention. We had already filmed a video outside the balloon for my channel, where I’d forced a grin that slowly became genuine as I told the audience I was about to do something wildly out of character and against every instinct I had. We’d even managed to capture a Polaroid in front of the balloon—Dove’s arm wrapped around my waist in a way that made my breath catch.
She moved with such ease, such naturalness. There was no fear in touching me, no hesitation. I wondered where the hell she got that kind of confidence, and where I could find some.
Gia had begun her final checks, chatting with her assistant in low tones as the burner roared again and the balloon began to fully inflate.
I took a shaky breath and swapped hands on the internal handle, turning on my heel to face Dove, whose eyes were already on me. She grinned, her cheeks flushing slightly as she realized she’d been caught.
“You good?” she asked, turning to face me fully, her arm still stretched along the basket’s edge.
