Skydiving For Kisses

A Short Story

Photo by Otra ruta on Pexels.com

I wanted to feel her lips pressed against mine in the worse way. I knew she loved adrenaline driven activities. So, I chose to show my adornment for her by extending an invitation to go skydiving. She threw her hair back, as she laughed, happily accepting my offer with a bellow that delighted both my ears and groin.

I tried to forget that I would probably puke while tied to the parachute and complete stranger who would guide me. I didn’t focus on my fear of heights. I couldn’t look beyond her beauty. As we sat in the plane, she peered over her shoulder at me, smiling bigger than the sky seemed to extend. Someone told me when you are skydiving, your breath stops. I could only hope that wasn’t a myth.

I watched as she and her partner jumped from the plane first. Now, it was my turn. I acted like a cat, as I dug what was left of my nails into the frames. My partner didn’t even coax me into the jump. Away we went, hurling downward. My breath was lost, so I guess the myth was true. I felt so confident when we landed in the field. My date was waiting for me, beautiful as ever. I walked up to her, courage protruding from my pores. As I leaned in to kiss her, I realized I was going to puke after all, and I did; all over her. I should stick to romantic dinners.

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