Page 47 of Ex Marks the Spot

His beachy eyes sparkle with amusement when he ticks off his thumb and index finger. “Your assignment is to paint you with your muse, which is a feeling that lives in your chest and feeds your inspiration. Hartley, this doesn’t have to be a self-portrait. That’s where you’re overthinking it. Don’t limit yourself to what the people in your group did. All you need to do is paint this feeling coming out of you.”

“Yes, I remember that night, but I’m not sure what it has to do with bungee jumping,” I say.

“You were ready to completely give up because you were overthinking it, and instead, you ended up creating a piece that your professor said was what?”

Despite the fear coursing through me, my lips relax enough to form a small smile. “He said it was among the best he’d seen in his tenure at Central Tennessee State.” How has Court remembered something I’d completely forgotten about?

“And that’s how it relates to bungee jumping. You’ve proven you’recapable of doing incredible things when you turn your brain off. I have no doubt this will be another one of those things. You got this.” Court squeezes my shoulders one last time and swaps places with Oliver.

“Okay, Hartley. You ready?”

I shake my head with an emphatic, “Absolutely not,” but somehow manage to shuffle forward anyway.

“Remember, don’t think, just do. Now let’s give you one more countdown.”

Don’t think, just do.

Don’t think, just do.

“Three . . .”

Don’t think, just?—

Ignoring Oliver, I push off the platform and swan dive down, down, down into the canyon, icy air whipping through my hair, heart slamming against my ribs, blood rushing to my head, throat running dry from screaming, still falling...but now I’m laughing and crying and embracing the unexpected peace that comes with this kind of freedom.

All too soon, the bungee tightens around my feet and waist, bringing me to one perfect second of stillness before slingshotting me back into the air like I’m on an upside-down roller coaster that’s gone off its track. Oliver was right—I didn’t die, and this is the best sixty seconds of my life.

It takes me a few tries to yank the ankle strap after the second bounce, but I finally manage and flip right-side up so I can enjoy the view while my circulation returns to normal.

I did it.

I fucking did it!

And to my surprise, I already want to do it again.

After my fourth bounce, my harness locks into a connector cable and I start the journey up.

Court double fist-pumps the air the second I’m back in the pod. “That’s what I’m talking about! You were awesome, Hart.”

“Thanks,” I say while trying to make sense of the weird fluttering in my chest. It’s not the surge of adrenaline I’ve been riding on—that’s still going strong—and it’s not the fear I felt earlier. This is more of a warm buzzing that’s oddly comforting. I don’t have much time to figure it out though, because Oliver makes quick work of unhooking me and then I’m on the receiving end of high fives from everyone in the pod.

Well, almost everyone.

In place of a high five, Court spreads his arms and legs and says, “I’m nothing if not a man of my word. Go ahead.”

I hear a few, “Oh shits,” and an under-the-breath, “You’re crazy,” from the cameraman, but Court doesn’t flinch.

In fact, he smiles. And it’s not a reverse psychology smile to make me feel bad so I don’t go through with it. This is his I’m-so-damn-proud-of-you smile, AKA: the one he gave me after I finished my muse painting. The warm buzzing grows extra warm and extra buzzy.

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but...” I step forward, snake my arms around Court’s waist, and lay my head on his chest. “Thank you.”

He remains frozen for several seconds, then clears his throat and returns my hug. “You’re welcome.”

“And you were right. I’m really glad I did it.”

He breathes out a soft laugh. “I’m glad you listened to me for once.”

I lean back and smile up at him. “Don’t go getting cocky. I don’t plan on making it a habit.”

---