Chapter Twelve
Blake was going to jump.
70 stories, 764 feet, and nothing but a rope to keep him from sailing into the afterlife at the tender young age of twenty-one.
r /> It was a helluva bet.
Courtney’s birthday weekend could very well turn into Blake’s death weekend, but fuck it, what was life without some risks?
Beside him, Farrah clutched the railing with one hand and her necklace with the other, eyes wide and face deathly white. Terror emanated from her in waves.
“I can’t do this.” She tugged at her harness like it was too tight. “Take this off me. I can’t do it. I’m going to die.”
“It’ll be ok,” the bungee jump operator said soothingly. “We’ve done thousands of these jumps; we know what we’re doing. Our safety equipment is top of the line.”
“Pass.” Farrah backed away and tugged at her harness again. Her breath came out in short, panicked puffs.
The operator looked at Blake, the only person in their group who had yet to jump besides Farrah.
“I’ll talk to her,” Blake said. “Give us a minute.”
He walked over to Farrah and placed his hands on her shoulders. She trembled beneath his hold. “Take a deep breath. In one, two, out one, two. That’s it. How are you feeling?”
“Not good. I hate heights.” Farrah gulped in another breath. “I don’t know why I agreed to this. Tell Court I’m sorry, and that I’ll refund Kris her money. Wait, no. I’ll tell them myself when I go down.” She raised her hand to beckon the operator once.
Blake grabbed her wrist and eased it down. “Whoa. Before you leave, hear me out.”
“Don’t waste your time. I’m not changing my mind. Do your jump, and I’ll meet—”
“7,000 miles.”
Farrah’s brow knit in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“That’s how many miles you flew to get from the US to China. 7,000 miles.”
“Um, ok?”
“Did you spend all that time and money to get here so you can stand on the sidelines and watch other people live their lives?”
Farrah’s jaw dropped. The words sounded harsh to Blake’s own ears, but they needed to be said.
“That’s not living.” Farrah jabbed her finger at the jumping platform. “That’s dying. If I jump off that platform, I’ll die.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit!”
“Farrah, think of everyone that’s jumped tonight and survived. Fuck, even Luke did it, and he weighs three times more than you do. If he can’t break that rope, no one can.” Blake’s eyes twinkled. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not that special.”
“Ha ha.” Farrah’s expression lightened before it tensed again. “I’m still not doing it. Even if the rope doesn’t break, I’ll have a heart attack in midair.”
“Ok.” Blake released her. “We’re not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do. If you’re really uncomfortable with the idea, you can leave, and no one will judge you for it. But before you do, look around and tell me what you see.”
She did. Blake followed her gaze and took in their surroundings. They stood atop the Macau Tower, home to the world’s highest bungee jump. Beneath them, the city’s lights and sprawling casino hotels glittered like a carpet of fallen stars.
“I see Macau?”
“You see Macau, I see a choice.” Six months ago, Blake would’ve punched himself in the face if he heard these words coming out of his mouth. He sounded like a damn self-help book. But this wasn’t about him; this was about Farrah. “You can either stay in your comfort zone or do something that makes your heart goddamn race. One’s safe. The other is scary as hell. You know where the safe path takes you—but it only takes you that far. The scary path? No one knows. It could be awful. Or it could be the best decision you’ll ever make.”