“What steps?”
“Well,” I tell him, “we’ve never lived together. We’ve never talked about whether we each want to have kids or anything. We’ve never sat down and planned anything except to defraud your hospital and the clinical trial. Jace, we’ve never said ‘I love you.’”
“Well,” he says, “I lov-”
“Oh, don’t say it now,” I interrupt. “It just makes it seem like you’re trying to prove a point, not that you actually mean it.”
He’s looking at me, the ring still in his outstretched hand.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?” I ask with a laugh.
“Yeah,” he says. “I really do.”
“I love you for it,” I tell him.
“I love you, too,” he says. “Does that mean-”
“Oh, hell no,” I tell him. “I’m nowhere near prepared to get married, but I have another idea.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you remember what I was planning on doing with you up here before you started flailing like a moron?” I ask.
“I take exception to most of that question, and no,” he says. “What were you going to do with me up here?”
“Put the ring back in your pocket,” I tell him. “You don’t want to lose it.”
He puts the ring back in his pocket, and I kiss him on the lips. With that restraint in place, we’re not going to be able to be too creative, but I think I’ve got a few ideas for getting around that.
Our arms are around each other, and I can feel that Jace, despite his generally calm demeanor, is shaking. Whether it’s from the height or from the breeze or from the adrenaline of the moment, I have no idea.
He’s pulling me close.
“Exactly how far were you planning to go?” he asks.
“Far enough,” I tell him.
“Yeah, I have no idea what that means,” he says. “I’m just thinking that with the bar there, we can’t, you know, and if we unlatch the bar, I don’t think we should.”
I pull away from him and move as far as I can to the other side of the car, which granted, is only about a foot from where I was before. I lift my feet until they’re above the footrest and I straighten my legs only to bend them as if I were going to cross my legs. That way, I’m able to get my legs out from under the restraint and cross them in front of me on the seat.
“Now you,” I tell him.
“Yeah, I get what you did there, but at what point while my legs are hanging over the footrest does gravity decide it’s time I was back on the ground?”
“Quit being such a pussy and just do it,” I tell him.
“You know,” he says, “you’re really going to have to stop calling me that one of these days.”
“You’d think so, but no. Just do it.”
It takes him a while and a fairly impressive string of curses, but he finally manages to pull his legs up and set his feet on the seat, mirroring me.
“Now what? There’s still a lot of-”
“Take your pants off,” I instruct.
He gives me a look as if to say, “How the fuck am I supposed to do that?” so I turn and put my legs over the restraint. I unbutton my pants and slip them down over my knees. Once I get them that far, I pull my legs back toward me and pull them the rest of the way down.