Page 63 of Shy Girl
The hotel room door closed behind me.
Dagny cluttered my thoughts as I strode into Grady's room.
Grady stood near a sideboard of drinks, pouring something into a glass of ice cubes. I clapped a hand on his shoulder and smiled wide as I passed.
“How are you, brother?”
Grady's expression didn't waver. Behind him waited a storm cloud. Bastian and Vik sat on a couch near an open set of double doors that overlooked the sand. Vik had a hot glower on his face. Bastian looked out the French doors, where bright sunshine spilled into the room with blinding force.
“What’s up?” I asked.
Bastian drew a finger across his neck, then motioned to Vik with a tilt of his head. Vik scowled at me.
“Shut up, Hernadez,” he muttered.
“I didn't say anything.”
His frown deepened. “But you're about to, I can tell.”
“You're not wrong.” I grabbed Grady's shoulder, then shoved him into the couch. “Have a seat, groom.” Then I tossed a remote to Bastian. “Pull up the TV, will you? Turn on the DVD player. I have something for you to see.”
Grady groaned. “Please tell me it'snotsomething that you're going to use to blackmail me later during the Best Man's speech?”
I grinned as the TV bounced to life.
“You bet I will.”
A stormy Vikram and quiet Bastian lurked on the couch as I pulled the DVD up and started the tape. Whatever had happened before I arrived clearly hadn't been good, but this tape would erase all that. The reminder of what we had as friends was all they needed. Besides, this was just a continuation of the tempest that exploded between all of us at the bungalow after we all first arrived.
No more of that mess.
Time to get real.
Seconds later, the initial footage of the C-Tape flickered across the scene. A familiar, although more high-pitched version, of Vikram's voice filled the room. I lowered onto the couch near Grady with a wide smile.
Here. We. Go, I thought.
“Hey!” Vik cried from the television. “Are you ready or what?”
In the present, Grady cursed. Bastian's eyes grew wide. Vik's expression lost the animosity and went slack. He looked at me and pointed to the TV screen wordlessly. I grinned.
“You bet it is,” I said. “Now shut up and watch.”
On the screen, a small figure lingered at the top of a church steeple three or four stories high. The steeple plummeted down a straight drop, then moved into a gradual curve at the end. The figure on top was me.
I sat there on a rug that I'd turned upside down. Even now, I could feel the pit in my stomach as I stared at that initial free-fall drop before it curved. There were divots to avoid, and it was dusk out. Light enough the video would come through, but not full day in case a cop strolled by.
“No way,” Bastian whispered. He shook his head in a half-laugh. “No. Flipping. Way.” Vik leaned forward, fist pressed to his mouth. Grady glanced at me, one eyebrow raised in question, but I ignored him and kept my gaze locked forward.
A voice on the screen called out again. Bastian, this time.
“One . . . two . . . go, Hernandez!”
Seconds later, my body plummeted off the top of that church.
My heart did a double beat just recalling the way the rug felt under me as I slid down that metal rooftop. The sense of nothing but air and pain and death beneath my legs for a small eternity—only a few seconds—before I caught up with the part where the roof sloped into a curve. My teeth clenched as I watched it all happen again, without a helmet on.
The anticipated rush of pride didn't follow this video—which was one of my previous favorites. No sense of adventure, nor hope to do even better next time. To get bigger adventures. Top even that.
