When there are others around, I can steal those little moments-a slight touch or a low whisper-that make my heart and my breath malfunction, and store them in my little glass box. If I’m alone with him, I’m afraid those moments will steal me instead.
“So what, then? Will you stay here on shore or come with us? It’s your call.”
I stare behind him, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. The entire group is climbing into the half-dozen or so bright orange rafts that appeared on shore out of nowhere. Everyone is now dressed in the same blue wetsuit as James, and also wearing lifejackets and helmets, both as bright orange as the rafts.
“You fell in love with me,” he says. “I assure you rafting is far less dangerous.”
“I’ll do it.”
When I climb into one of the rafts fifteen minutes later, I am positive I have never been so frightened in my life, despite being equipped with a lifejacket and helmet. There are four people on each side of the raft. I sit behind Parker and in front of James. Dani sits opposite me, pointedly ignoring James. I’m wearing a bathing suit (James ordered new ones to be bought for everyone, especially for today) underneath my wetsuit, and all my clothes are now in the waterproof bag that I clutch for dear life. Parker takes the bag away from me, securing it at the back of the raft, and gives me a paddle instead.
I grip the paddle firmly and do my best to mimic Parker’s smooth strokes, as the raft starts moving. Before I know it, we’re speeding among the humongous gray rocks, and I pray we don’t bump into one of them because the raft looks like it might not make it. My stomach tightens painfully when I look in front of us because the river seems to be entirely made out of darned rocks. I grit my teeth when the inevitable collision nears, and close my eyes, expecting to be thrown out of the raft and possibly experience a healthy dose of pain.
But a wave of fresh water splashing all over us and a violent shake-up are the only calamities that follow. Everyone on the raft is cheering. I pretend to be cheering along with them and tighten my grip on the paddle.
“Your hands are going to get numb if you keep them like that,” James whispers in my ear, sending an electrifying impulse through me that shakes me harder than any wave could. He puts his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. “Relax a bit and enjoy the scenery. It’s beautiful out here.”
I could do that, I just have to first convince myself that the giant rocks are made out of marshmallows. But as I feel James breathing on the back of my neck, my stomach loosens up a bit. Just a bit.
And then someone-Ralph, by the sound of his voice-shouts from the front of the raft.
“Okay, everybody, prepare yourselves. The first fall is coming.”
“The first what?” I shout.
But as James abruptly withdraws his arm, I very well feel the what. It starts in my stomach-a sensation of emptiness, not unlike that of diving on a roller coaster, except there’s no seat belt, and no rails to keep us on a safe path. I give up any pretense of paddling and just hold on tight to whatever I can, my eyes closed. The emptiness transforms into lightness, surging to my chest in the free fall. Suddenly, all my senses are alert. The sound of water falling drums in my ears, the air-fresh and striking-fills my lungs, my chest, all of me, and I become aware for the first time of the life serum it is. I wonder how the world looks when you’re suddenly awake. But I’m still too afraid to open my eyes.
The bump announcing the fall is over slams me into James. I open my eyes and find myself cheering along with everyone else. For real this time.
“What’s the verdict? Fun or terrifying?” James asks.
I turn to him, grinning. “Terrifyingly fun?”
He leans into me, a little too close. “You’d be up for it again?”
I hesitate just for a fraction of a second. “Absolutely.”
“Good. Because a bigger fall will come farther down the river.”
“Oh.” I get up a bit, inspecting the water ahead of us, but the next fall must be much farther away because I can’t see anything. The river has changed. There are very few rocks as far as I can see, and the water itself is much calmer. I use this opportunity to take in the surroundings. James was right; this place is beautiful. On the shore to the left lies a sea of green: oak trees and pines. To the right, the steep canyon wall towers over us, reflecting in the clear water.
“This is the base where we’ll camp afterward,” James says, showing me a point on the shore farther down. “But we’ll go past it. We’ll be going lower down the river and then we’ll climb back to the base on foot.”
“How long exactly is this trip going to last?” Parker asks. “I have a flight to catch.”
My throat tightens at his words. I don’t want to think about flights right now.
“You’ll make it to London all right, Parker” James answers flatly. He pulls aside my hair and leans forward, whispering, “But I’ll be more than happy if you don’t make it to New York.” I’m sure he meant it to sound seductive, but it came out as a plea. I tighten my grip on the paddle and pretend I don’t hear him. I think I preferred the river the way it was before, restless and full of rocks. Paddling took much more effort, and there wasn’t so much time for conversation. I regret my wish within minutes when the first rocks appear in sight; they’re not like the ones before. They’re sharper. More massive. And the water flows furiously among them.
“Ready?” James shouts.
“For what?”
“The next fall. It’ll be in about four minutes.”
I twist the paddle in my hands, looking ahead of us. A knot starts forming in my stomach as the water
r propels us forward in savage swirls, the rocks threatening us from both sides of the raft. But the knot isn’t one of terror. It’s one of anticipation and something else that I don’t recognize. Yet as the raft swings us to the very edge and the fall stretches before me, the knot morphs into the light feeling I experienced before, during the last fall. And also, I realized, when I stepped out of that plane. Adrenaline, that’s what this is.
And right now, I don’t fear it. Not in the slightest. I welcome it. I want it. How is it that it is always around James that I change? What is it about him that makes me forget my fears and inhibitions, and become reckless?
I do manage to keep my eyes open this time when we dive into the free fall. The seconds that follow seem to take place in slow motion. The raft going downward. The water sprinkled in every direction, the drops scattering in a million pieces as they pierce the air, only to meld their way back into the river. I stretch out my hand to catch a few drops before they reach the surface of the river again, the lightning-quick beats of my heart-the only things playing out in real time it seems-drumming in my ears.
I stretch out more, rising just a few inches from my seat, and hear James cry, “Don’t get up,” before the raft gives its most violent jerk yet. I slip and desperately try to grasp something-anything, to secure myself. I dig my nails into the edges of the raft. Another jolt follows and I slip again.
And fall right into the water.
A sharp pain tears through my right thigh, and I open my mouth to scream but instead swallow a mouthful of water. My eyes are blurry and I have lost any sense of direction. I can’t see the orange raft. Everywhere I look, sharp rocks point at me, and, as the stream pulls me in its midst with vengeance, my only thought is, that I must not hit my head.
I know I have a helmet, but I’m pretty sure the mere shock of colliding with a rock will be enough to make me pass out. I hold my arms around my head to protect it, and then something pulls at my arm, and I think, that’s it, I’m a goner. But then the bright orange raft appears in front of me and I realize someone is pulling me back inside it.
All my limbs turn to rubber when I thump inside the raft. James holds me tight against his chest, and I cling to him, shaking, tears and water streaming down my face.
I close my eyes and rest my head against him as the raft comes to a halt and James lifts me in his arms. He steps on the shore and then sets me down on a wooden bench, taking off my helmet and putting it on the wooden picnic table behind me, next to his helmet and two waterproof bags. I recognize one of them as mine. I hope to God the bags are waterproof because I am soaked. And so is James.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, sitting on one knee in front of me. I can’t tell if his voice is trembling or the nauseating throbbing inside my skull makes it seem that way. I look for the others, but there’s no one in sight. It’s only when I look at the river, and notice the orange raft sailing away, that I realize it’s just the two of us here on shore.
“Where are the others going?” I mumble.
“Carrying on with the trip. I told them to drop us off here at the base. They’ll arrive later.”
I look around me, wondering what exactly he calls the base, since, except for the wooden bench and table, there’s nothing but pines everywhere. A pathway stretches between the trees, and I wonder if the base is at the end of it and if there’s anyone there. I can’t allow myself to stay alone for too long with James.
“Serena, are you hurt?” he repeats.
“No, I don’t think so.” But as I say the words, a spasm runs through my right thigh and I gasp.
“Let me take a look at it.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Don’t be silly. Let’s get you out of this wetsuit.”
And though I know there’s no way he and I can check my thigh without me taking off my suit, I still consider that option for a few seconds. Grudgingly, I stand up and peel the suit off me, until I’m all but naked in front of him; my cheeks feel so warm I’m pretty sure they’re the same bright red as the tiny bikini I’m wearing.
“I always hated these crappy suits.” He takes off his suit as well, standing before me in a pair of green shorts. I look away, my breath quickening. If I could just pretend we’re sunbathing on a beach, maybe I wouldn’t feel this naked. The sun most certainly burns hot enough for me to uphold the illusion.
“I’m so sorry about this,” James says, eyeing my thigh as I slump back on the bench. One long scratch runs to my knee.
“I’m an idiot, I should’ve held on tighter to the raft.”
“It’s my fault for pressuring you to come with us.”
“I decided to come, James. It was my choice.”
“At least you’re not bleeding,” he says with a shudder.
“You’re afraid of blood?” I ask, biting my lip to keep from laughing.
“Not exactly afraid,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting in half a smile. “I just don’t like it much.”
He trails his fingers along the scratch, my skin prickling, goose bumps forming on my thigh, and then on my entire body. James bites his lower lip.
“I guess you won’t be able to wear any short skirts while searching for an apartment in New York.”
“No problem. I’m not going to New York to seduce the real estate agent, but to find a decent place to live.”
“Really? I was under the impression you were going to New York to run away from me.”
I prepare to contradict him most categorically, but then he blinks up at me with wide, expectant eyes. Saddened eyes. “Why are you doing this?”
The truth rolls out of my mouth before I can stop myself. “Because I can’t stand the thought of being apart from you, knowing you’re just a few miles away.”