Page 146 of Revv

My eyes narrow because this bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.

“No.”

“I don’t know, you sound a little scared.”

“Fuck you.”

“I mean, if you’re too scared, we can leave. I’ll understand.”

I climb off the back of the bike and pull my helmet off.

His laugh follows me across the parking lot.

I spend the next hour pretending I don’t regret every decision I’ve ever made.

The waiver alone is enough to make me reconsider. There are entirely too many mentions of injury and death for something people, apparently, do recreationally, and Revel signs his like he’s accepting a package.

The harness doesn’t help.

I tug at one of the straps around my thigh for the third time while the instructor is talking.

Revel catches me doing it.

“You good?”

“Fantastic. I love having my survival dependent on fucking buckles.”

He smiles, but when I reach for the strap again, the amusement fades. He steps closer and checks it, then motions the instructor back over and asks her to go through everything one more time.

I watch him give another strap a firm tug after she leaves.

“You do know you’re not actually qualified to inspect this shit, right?”

“Obviously.” He checks the buckle anyway. “But I’ve jumped enough times to know what it’s supposed to look like.”

“And you suddenly don’t trust the woman whose literal job it is?”

“Trust her just fine.” He gives the strap one last pull, then looks up at me. “Still checking the shit that’s keeping my girl attached to me fourteen thousand feet in the air.”

My stomach does something stupid at my girl.

“Not your girl.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mama.”

His eyes lift to mine, and something warm twists beneath my ribs before I can stop it.

He gives the strap one last check. “You’re good.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t sound so shocked.”

“I’m adjusting to you occasionally being useful.”

He laughs, hooks an arm around my shoulders, and walks me toward the plane.

The second we’re strapped in and the engine kicks harder, some of my attitude starts leaking out.