Page 62 of Tame Me

I nod, then realise he can’t see me but even in this darkness he’s sensed my rising nerves. I don’t want to think about how far we could fall. How we’d smash to smithereens. ‘Yeah,’ I lie. ‘Are you?’ I squeak.

‘I’m hanging in there.’

I smile weakly. ‘Tragic attempt at a pun.’

He turns his phone’s torch on, sits it between us and smiles at me. It’s a gorgeous smile and it humanises him and with him half hidden in the dark he feels more accessible.

‘I feel wobbly,’ I say. ‘Like the ground has vanished beneath my feet.’

My joke is even more feeble but it’s better to challenge my brain to come up with puns instead of staying fixated on his attractiveness. But my brain does that anyway. Relentlessly.

There’s another sudden jolt and the cabin sways in a way it isn’t supposed to. I draw a sharp breath. Dain’s phone slides off the seat and lands on the floor, lighting the corner instead of us. He doesn’t move to retrieve it. Instead he puts his hand on mine. I’m so unashamedly grateful I twist my fingers to grasp his and cover his wrist with my other hand. Just like that I’m clinging and I don’t care.

‘It might take some time for them to get power back online,’ I worry.

‘There isn’t a generator?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t usually work up there. I was just helping out a friend.’

‘You enjoy your work?’ he asks calmly.

‘I’ve been doing it a long time.’

‘Your latte art was pretty cool. I’ve seen some done before but your bird design for Simone was excellent.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You must have practised a lot.’

I know he’s distracting me. I welcome it. I drag in a breath and make myself focus. ‘Yeah, but mostly I do it to put online. I have a social media channel for it.’

‘You have an influencer side hustle?’

I swear I hear an element of judgement in his tone. ‘I’m hardly at influencer status but my ASMR videos are really popular. And my how-to-do-it-at-home tutorials are increasingly getting clicks.’

‘And that’s the dream—to be an Insta-recognisable influencer?’

Oh, there’s definitely judgement there.

‘Actually, I’m going to have my own roastery one day. My own coffee label. And my channel is absolutely going to help with that.’ I’m not trying to impress him. I’m just babbling. It’s helping but not as much as his hand-holding is.

‘You want to take on the big multinationals?’ he asks.

‘No, I just want a boutique label. I want to support coffee growers with ethical practices who provide a sustainable wage. There’s room in the market for that and the world needs to change.’

‘You’re an idealist.’

I shake my head. ‘A humanist.’

The light from the phone on the floor in the corner is just enough to let me see him, hopefully without him seeing how much I’m staring.He’sthe perfect distraction from the fear that I’m about to plummet hundreds of feet onto rocks. His eyes are stunning. A deep blue, they glitter with a vitality that makes me want to lean in to feel his energy. Okay, his muscles too. I want to test out the length and breadth of him for myself. It’s the weirdest thing. I avoid men. But this isn’t like anything else. This is like a lightning strike and, yes, I know that’s a cliché, but it’s the best my befuddled brain can come up with right now. I guess the storm outside is a prompt and all.

‘They should have shut down the gondola,’ I murmur. ‘We’d be safer up at the top even without power.’

‘We’ll be fine.’ His hand tightens on mine. ‘We’re more likely to be in a car accident.’

‘You know your facts.’ Who’s he trying to reassure? Me or himself?

‘Several.’

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