The Mistake

Nope, we’re on another dirt road now, driving away from town. Another five minutes, and we reach a large clearing. There’s a water tower in the distance, with the town name etched on its side, and it seems to glow in the moonlight, a stark white beacon standing out amidst the dark landscape.

Logan parks fifty yards from the tower, and my pulse speeds up when I realize that’s where we’re going. My hands shake as I follow him toward a steel ladder that starts at the base of the tower and extends upward, so high I can’t see where it ends.

“Are we going up there?” I blurt out. “If so…no thank you. I’m terrified of heights.”

“Ah, shit. I forgot.” He bites his lip for a second, before giving me an earnest look. “Face your fear for me? I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

I stare at the ladder, and I can feel all the color draining from my face. “Uh…”

“Come on,” he coaxes. “You can climb up first. I’ll stand down here the whole time and catch you if you fall. Scout’s honor.”

“Fall?” I screech. “I wasn’t even thinking about falling. Oh my God, what if I fall?”

He chuckles softly. “You won’t. But like I said, I’ll be here to catch you on the off, off chance it happens.” He flexes both arms as if he’s a bodybuilder who just won the crown. “Look at these guns, gorgeous. You really think I can’t catch all ninety pounds of you?”

“One hundred and twenty pounds, thank you very much.”

“Ha. I lift that in my sleep.”

My gaze drifts back to the ladder. Some of the rungs are covered with rust, but when I step closer and curl my fingers around one, it seems sturdy enough. I take a calming breath. Okay. It’s a water tower, not the Empire State Building. And I had promised myself I’d try new things before my freshman year was over.

“Fine,” I mutter. “But God help me, if I fall and you don’t catch me, and by some miracle I survive and still have the use of my arms? I will beat you to death.”

His lips twitch. “Deal.”

I inhale another wobbly breath, and then I start to climb. One foot after the other. One foot after the other. I can totally do this. It’s just a teeny little water tower. Just a—my stomach drops when I make the mistake of peering down when I near the halfway mark. Logan waits patiently below. A shard of moonlight emphasizes the encouragement gleaming in his blue eyes.

“You’ve got this, Grace. You’re doing great.”

I keep going. One foot after the other, one foot after the other. When I reach the platform, relief sweeps through me. Holy shit. I’m still alive.

“You good?” he shouts from the ground.

“Yeah,” I shout back.

Unlike me, Logan scales the ladder in a matter of seconds. He joins me on the platform, then takes my hand and leads me farther down to where the metal walkway widens, offering a nice—and safe. Safe!—place to sit. He flops down and lets his legs dangle over the edge, grinning at my very obvious reluctance to do the same.

“Aw, don’t chicken out now. You’ve already come this far…”

Ignoring the queasy churning of my stomach, I sit beside him and gingerly position my legs like his. As he slings an arm around my shoulder, I desperately nestle closer to him, trying not to look down. Or up. Or anywhere, for that matter.

“You okay?”

“Mmm-hmmm. As long as I keep staring at my hands then I don’t have to think about plummeting two hundred feet to my death.”

“This tower definitely isn’t two hundred feet tall.”

“Well, it’s tall enough that my head will crack like a watermelon when it hits the ground.”

“Jeez. You really need to work on your romance technique.”

I gape at him. “This is supposed to be romantic? Wait, do you have a fetish for girls throwing up on you?”

He bursts out laughing. “You’re not going to throw up.” But much to my relief, he tightens his grip around my shoulder.

The warmth of his body is a nice distraction from my current predicament. So is his aftershave. Or is it cologne? His natural scent? Holy Moses, if it’s his natural scent, then he needs to bottle that spicy fragrance up, call it Orgasm, and sell it to the masses.

“See that pond over there?” he asks.

“No.” I’ve squeezed my eyes shut, so all I can see is the inside of my eyelids.

He pokes me in the ribs. “It would help if you opened your eyes. Come on, look.”

I pry my eyes open and follow the tip of his finger to where he’s pointing. “That’s a pond? It looks like a mud swamp.”

“Yeah, it gets muddy in the spring. But in the summer, there’s actually water in there. And in the winter, it freezes over and everyone comes here to skate on it.” He pauses. “My friends and I played hockey there when I was a kid.”

“Was it safe to skate on?”

“Oh yeah, the ice is solid. Nobody’s ever fallen through it, as far as I know.” There’s another pause, longer, and fraught with tension. “I loved coming here. It’s weird, though. It seemed so much bigger when I was a kid. Like I was skating on an ocean. Then when I got older, I realized how fucking small it actually is. I can skate from one end to the other in five seconds. I timed it.”