Page 73 of Malaise
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I deadpan.
He huffs out a short laugh. “Babe, you’re doing a fine job of ruining your badass image all on your own.” He pats my right leg through the fence. “Shuffle this over the top. I’ll make sure you don’t lose your balance.”
I nod and walk my right foot up the chain until it touches the top. He watches with an amused smirk as I do a little hop/shuffle to get my left foot high enough that I can shift my body onto the top of the fence. Carver’s firm grip captures my calf as I get my right leg over to his side, skirt hiked up my thighs so far it’s almost a damn belt by now. True to his word, he guides my weight by moving his hand up to my hip.
“Still okay there?” he asks.
I press my lips together and take a long, slow breath. “Yep. Let’s get this finished. No getting distracted by my arse hanging out, okay?”
He chuckles, slipping his hand quickly down to give my arse a squeeze. “Covered or not, it’s distracting, babe.” He returns his grip to my hip, and his expression returns to serious concentration. “Now, shift the rest of your body over so you can get your left foot down here by your right.”
“Easy as, huh?”
“Just try it.”
“I’m scared I’m going to fall.”
“I won’t let you.”
“I bet that’s what every hero said before the heroine fell to her death.”
He sighs. “Maybe you should have just said you didn’t want to do this if it’s so damn difficult.” His tone is curt and I can’t pick if it’s from frustration or anger. Maybe both?
“Look,” I grate out as I shuffle my body over to his side, ignoring the tingles breaking out in patches where his hand helps me. “I thought I could, okay? I’m not trying to prove anything. I honestly thought I could do this on my own. It doesn’t look so bad from down there.” Carver’s arm wraps around my waist, strong and sure, as we move in unison until I’m close enough to the ground to let go and drop to my feet. “Clearly I was wrong,” I finish. “Maybe I’m not as good at anything as I seem. Maybe I’m just an eternal fucking optimist.” Hot tears break over my cheeks, and I turn away, ashamed of my weak girly constitution.
I can’t even say what exactly it is that upsets me so much about making a fool of myself on a fence. It’s just a damn barrier I couldn’t climb. At least I tried, right? Isn’t that the whole fucking point of an obstacle, that you try to get past it?
“What’s the real issue?”
I soften as Carver’s arm wraps around my shoulders, same as he did when I fell apart at the bonfire. Only this time he doesn’t complete the circle and pull me close, yet that’s exactly what I wish for.
“I don’t know. I think….” My words dissipate into the night as I ponder what exactly it is that I think. Why my parents seem to be taking out their frustrations on aspects of my personality that previously didn’t bother them? Why the hell I’m about to enter the world feeling more alone than I ever have in my whole life? Or perhaps, just maybe, it’s the big one? Why the fuck my brother was killed by a goddamn bus and I now have this cold shadow called grief in my life, following me around, waiting for the most random of moments to rear its ugly head?
“This way.” Carver slips his hand off my shoulder, probably aware he’s not going to get a coherent answer anytime soon, and runs it down my arm to my hand, linking his fingers through mine.
We walk through a short stand of trees, our shoes crunching the dead leaves left behind from winter’s fall. The moon is non-existent under the cover of the tree canopy, and visibility is next to nothing. I grip Carver’s hand tight, following in his wake as we weave through skinny trunks and over uneven ground toward the field behind.
The space opens out as we step out of the trees, stealing my breath and bringing me to a stop. I’ve been here plenty on school camps and summer holiday programs, but never stood out here at night. The trees line a huge rectangular field on three sides, totally clear between save for the pièce de résistance on the far side—the flying fox. Moonlight catches the zip line strung between the tower and the landing pad, giving the whole structure an eerie feel. Yet, what really steals my breath is the grey, glassy look the moonlit river has behind it.
“Feel like a go?” Carver gives my hand a tug to get me started over the grassy area.
“Don’t they lock it at night so it doesn’t work?”
“They used to lock it at night,” he corrects, “but they haven’t bothered for a few years since people stopped coming out here so often.”
“Sounds like you come here a bit though.” I hunch my shoulders to ward off the chilly air.
“It’s a good place to get some alone time.” He lets go of my hand and points toward the tower. “Start climbing.” Carver jogs several steps toward the far end before he turns and jogs backwards, a cheeky grin in place. “You’re okay with ladders, right?”
“Ha-de-fucking-ha.”
I make short work of the timber rungs that scale the outside of the platform, stealing a look every so often at Carver as he grabs the zip line and jogs it back toward the tower. His muscles flex as he moves, his arm extended behind him. Every part of him is as appealing and easy on the eye as always. The chains that hang from the belt hoops of his jeans to the pocket swing with his movement, catching flashes of moonlight. His heavy boots echo a thud around us with each footfall, his breathing audible as he reaches the base of the tower.
I settle on the edge of the platform, my legs hanging over the side, while he climbs the ladder. An inked hand slaps over the top rung, down on the platform, and his head soon follows as he pushes himself up, a huge grin from ear to ear. “I’m not as fit as I used to be.”
“I’d love to see what fit looks like if your current form is out of shape.”
He quirks an eyebrow as he crosses to where I sit, guiding the zip line around the corner of the tower. “What you saying, Meg?”