North & West

Twelve

“Are you sure you want to do this?” West asked when we were halfway up the cliff, our feet digging into the side of the rock and hoping that we didn't topple down and break our necks.

I rolled my eyes. “You ask that when we've already climbed half of the way up.” I pointed out, glancing over at him.

“It's kind of dangerous.”

“I got this,” I gave him a small smile, “Danger is my middle name.”

We continued climbing in silence then, my legs beginning to ache. We were trying to get to the top of the cliff, and it was proving to be harder to climb than I'd originally thought. Granted, it wasn't much of a hill, nothing as steep as a mountain would be, but it certainly wasn't a cakewalk.

When we made it to the top of the cliff where we wanted to be, West and I stopped for a moment to catch our breath.

I wasn't entirely sure what had caused the urge, but I'd suddenly decided around four in the morning to call West and tell him that we were going cliff diving early in the morning. He'd, of course, told me that I had completely lost my mind, before he agreed.

It was a nice summer day, the sun shining but not hot enough to make me feel as though I could physically sweat my skin off, and the breeze was just strong enough to be pleasant but not overbearing.

Cliff diving was dangerous – anyone who had any measure of common sense knew that – but I felt the need to do it. Maybe it was the whole teenage need to be reckless and daring, or maybe it was just the fact that I wanted to experience it and West just happened to be the only person I could see myself jumping off of a rather high cliff into moving water with.

West and I stripped down to our swimsuits, mine an old bikini that I'd bought more than two years back and I made a mental note to invest in some new swimwear whenever I got my next paycheck. West turned towards me and I pretended not to notice the way his eyes seemed to linger a bit longer on me than they should have.

I took a deep breath, stepping towards the edge where the cliff ended and dipped off, and where West and I would be jumping off of. “On the count of three, okay?” I asked, beginning the countdown when he simply gave me a curt nod. “1. . . 2. . .” I paused, turning to look at him with my hands on my hips when he called my name.

“Don't get hurt, okay? Just be careful.” He urged me, the tension in his bare shoulders making it obvious that he was definitely feeling the nerves but trying to act as though he wasn't nervous.

I was nervous, there was no denying it, but I happened to not care all that much about how wrong my whole idea could go.

“I will,” I promised. “But you too, okay? I don't want to be responsible for you hurting yourself because you can't jump straight.” I teased, attempting to lighten the mood a bit.

He rolled his eyes, grabbing my hand. “Just start counting, North.”

I hadn't known we were going to be jumping together, but I decided against pulling away from him. “Okay. 1. . .2. . . 3!”

On the count of three, West and I propelled forward, our hands still clasped even when we felt nothing but air beneath our feet.

We were in the air for only a few seconds, but it felt at least twice as long. The wind was rushing through my hair, and combined with the downward force of gravity, I almost felt weightless. I hazarded a glance at West at one moment, but he was already looking at me, almost as if he'd turned to look at me as soon as we jumped.

When we hit the water merely seconds after the jump, our hands were still knotted together in a tight embrace and judging by the way my cheeks were beginning to ache, not only did West have a huge grin on his face, but I did, too.