Page 51 of The Ground Beneath Our Feet
She looked confused. “What’s that?”
“Freestyle street gymnastics.”
Almost involuntarily, she took a step towards my bed. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I winced as I tried to get up. “I fell tonight.”
“You did this to yourself,” she said, gesturing to my entire body. Her fingers were so close, she almost touched my abs. Then she withdrew her hand. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just so relieved that you didn’t get mugged or something.”
“No. It was my own stupidity. My mental game was not on it tonight. I’ve been training but still make mistakes. And a mistake in parkour can be really bad.”
“I’ll say.” She paused. “You’re an adrenaline junkie.”
“You found me out.” A look flickered over her face. It seemed like relief, mixed with concern.
“Can I see you do it sometime, or is this going to make you stop?”
“I’m not going to stop. I’ve been hurt plenty. You just have to have the memory of a football player who’s just been tackled. Forget it immediately. Just get back in there. And yes, I’ll take you.”
She looked at me gratefully. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I managed.
Her eyes met mine. For a moment, I didn’t know what she was going to do. Then her soft, plump lips met my forehead. “Feel better.”
“Thanks.”
She turned to go, walked toward the door, then paused and looked over her shoulder at me. “I can’t believe you’re the man I chose to get my body in shape.”
“Why?”
“You fling yourself from buildings.”
I smiled at that. “Yeah.”
“You’re dangerous for me, Mikey.”
“Yeah. Maybe so.”
I didn’t want to ever wash my forehead again after she kissed me.
