AN: New week. Let's aim for the top 10 this week.
Today's goal: 400 PS> 1 extra chapter.
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[Sunday] [Skyline Air, 18,000 feet above the Hudson Valley]
The plane vibrated beneath their boots, the roar of wind pressing against the thin walls like a living thing trying to get in. Rachel sat beside Alex, both of them strapped into their jumpsuits, oxygen meters and altimeters blinking steadily against their chests. The cabin was cold but dry, the kind of cold that seeped into your neck and made you more aware of every breath you took.
Alex looked out the window. All he could see was cloud and the faint curve of earth beginning to fade into early evening light. The sky was clear above them, endless and open, and the Hudson River below carved its silver path through the mountains like a vein through skin.
Beside him, Rachel was double-checking the straps across her harness. Her hair was tied in a low braid, tucked under the soft dome of her helmet. Her eyes were calm, but there was something sharp behind them, something jittery. Not exactly fear. But the kind of electricity that comes when you know you're about to do something reckless and unforgettable.
"This still feels like a dumb idea," she said over the wind, voice raised to cut through the noise.
"You say that like all our best moments weren't born from dumb ideas," Alex replied, grinning.
Rachel smirked, but she didn't answer. She glanced at the red light near the door. Still on. They had a few minutes left.
He leaned back, stretching his fingers inside the gloves. His body felt alive in a way it hadn't in weeks. He had faced killers, stalkers, sabotage, threats from syndicates, and the constant hum of fame's pressure. But this? This was different. The air up here was pure. There were no phones, no emails, no fan questions, no logistics, no system tabs pinging for attention. Just the sky.
Rachel elbowed him lightly.
"You scared?" she asked.
Alex turned his head. "No. You?"
She shrugged once, but it was all show. "Maybe a little. Never jumped before. Closest I got was diving off a yacht in Santorini. That felt bold enough."
Alex looked at her hands. They weren't shaking. "You don't have to do this."
"I know," she said. "But I want to."
They sat in silence for a moment as the wind screamed louder and the jump guide gave them a ten-minute signal from across the cabin. A second instructor moved down the line of jumpers, checking harnesses and nodding once at each person.
Rachel pulled her goggles down and adjusted the strap. "I swear, if I puke, you're catching it midair."
Alex grinned. "Don't worry, it'll splatter your face first. Some will go into your nose and eyes and yeah... Don't puke. I plan to kiss you after reaching the ground. And I ain't into that puke fetish shits."
She stared at him for a second, then burst into laughter. It was sudden and loud and surprised even her. She slapped his shoulder and leaned back, her face flushed.
"I hate you," she said, still laughing.
"No, you don't," he said, reaching for her hand and gripping it tightly. "You love me. And after this, you'll love me even more."
The instructor tapped Alex's shoulder and gave him a thumbs-up. Five minutes.
The red light shifted to yellow.
Rachel leaned toward the open ramp as the back of the plane began to lower. Wind exploded into the cabin, flapping straps and pulling at their sleeves. Alex stood first. He turned to face her, then offered his hand.
"You ready?" he asked.
Rachel looked at the open sky ahead of her. She could see the world now. It was wide, bright, and just waiting for them. She took a breath and stepped forward, placing her hand in his.
"Yeah," she said. "Let's fall."
Together, they moved toward the edge, the roar of the wind now deafening. The instructor clipped them to their guides and gave the final nod.
The light turned green.
Alex looked at her one last time.
Then they jumped.
The world vanished for a moment. Just the rush of air tearing past their bodies and the scream of speed pressing against their skin. The clouds gave way, and the blue turned into gold, then orange, then nothing but motion.
Rachel screamed, but it wasn't fear. It was joy. Wild, reckless joy.
Alex twisted midair, facing her as they tumbled side by side. He couldn't hear her, but he could see her face. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open in a grin, and the fear had been replaced with something wild and rushed.
He opened his arms to the sky, feeling the air rush past like a river of lightning. The evening sun cast a golden glow across the clouds, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. All the weight of his struggles and expectations faded away.
He felt weightless. Not just in body, but in spirit. No voices in his head. No deadlines screaming for attention. Just Rachel falling beside him, her braid fluttering behind her like a banner. She reached out, and their fingers brushed. Even that small touch buzzed like static.
He turned his head, watching her. She looked beautiful, floating in the light. Her face had lost all the sharp lines of stress and exhaustion. Now there was only this wild, breathless version of her. Rachel was screaming something, but the wind swallowed the words. It didn't matter. He could see everything she meant in her eyes: Excitement, freedom, a little bit of madness, and love.
Rachel had never felt anything like this. Not the yacht in Santorini, not the midnight swims in Bali, not even the helicopter stunt during her mission days. The wind enveloped her, and the sky embraced her. She was flying. In that moment, she felt more alive than ever.
She turned her head and saw Alex drifting closer, his arms still wide, his face completely open. He looked at her like nothing else in the world existed. Just her.
She said something, but he couldn't hear it, but he knew. He didn't need to. Her lips formed the word with unmistakable clarity.
Love.
Soon, it was time for chute release. They pulled at the same time, and the jerk yanked them upward. The world slowed. Their bodies swung under the canopies, floating like paper lanterns caught in a breeze.
Rachel was still laughing. She looked up at her chute, then over at Alex. Her hand covered her mouth for a moment as if she were overwhelmed by everything, then dropped again as she shouted.
"I get it now!" she called through the air. "Why you wanted this!"
Alex cupped his hands to his mouth. "Worth it?"
She nodded so hard her helmet shifted. "Hell yes!"
They drifted lower, steering gently toward the marked drop zone in a wide open field framed by tall trees. From up here, it looked like a painting. The whole earth felt like it had opened up just for them.
As they came closer to the ground, the adrenaline started to wear off. But something stayed. A quiet thrill that didn't fade with the altitude.
When they landed, their feet hit with a jolt of grass and dirt. Their guides helped them unclip, and then stepped back, giving them space.
Rachel stood tall, pulling off her helmet and shaking her braid loose. She was still flushed, still glowing, still breathing like she had run through a lightning storm.
Alex dropped his helmet and walked over.
Rachel didn't wait for him to speak. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him in, kissing him hard.
No words. Just lips, breath, and everything unsaid.
When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against his.
"I've kissed you a hundred times," she said quietly. "But this one... this one was just freaking awesome."
Alex smiled, brushing her cheek with his fingers.
"Well, I guess, I'll just add a dash of altitude every now and then."
She laughed again, breathless and unfiltered.
...
[Rachel's Apartment | 7:28 PM]
The apartment smelled like garlic and thyme, with hints of butter sizzling low in a pan. The kitchen lights were dimmed just enough to feel warm and intimate. Jazz played low from the speaker in the corner, something slow and smoky that made the entire space feel like a secret being told between two people.
Alex stood behind Rachel, arms around her waist, his chin brushing her shoulder as he guided her hands with his. They were stirring a thick cream sauce together, the spoon heavy and warm in their grip. The pasta was already boiling on the back burner, the scent of roasted tomatoes coming from the oven.
"Clockwise," he murmured against her ear. "Nice and slow. Let it breathe."
Rachel rolled her eyes and laughed softly. "You sound like the sauce is alive."
"It kind of is," he said. "You just don't want to piss it off. Stir it wrong, and it'll split."
"I swear to God, if it splits, I'm blaming you," she whispered, leaning her weight into him.
"Then I'll kiss it better," he replied, and he turned her head to catch her mouth with his.
The kiss was slow, warm, and tasted faintly of wine. Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt. She broke away just long enough to whisper, "You're distracting the chef."
"I'm motivating the chef," he said, his voice low and amused.
She spun around in his arms, poking him in the chest with her finger. "You're lucky I like your stupid metaphors. Now grab the wine."
Alex reached for the bottle on the counter and poured her a glass, then topped off his own. Rachel dipped a spoon into the sauce and brought it to her lips. She closed her eyes, humming.
"That's good," she said. "Like... scary good."
"Because we made it together," he said, watching her lips as she licked the edge of the spoon.
Rachel took another sip of wine, her eyes on him the whole time. "We're gonna end up making out on this counter before the pasta finishes."
Alex took a slow step forward. "Promise?"
She set the glass down, grabbed him by the collar, and kissed him again. This time longer. Deeper. Her hands slid under his shirt, finding the heat of his back. His fingers went to her hips, pulling her closer. The timer on the oven dinged.
Neither of them moved.
The kiss went on for a few more seconds before Rachel broke away with a breathless laugh. "Alright. Oven. Focus. Food now, sex later."
Alex grinned and moved past her to open the oven. The roasted tomatoes were perfect: soft, blistered, just caramelized enough around the edges. He set the tray on the stove and turned back toward her.
Rachel was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching him like he was a fantasy come to life. Her braid had started to come undone, a few strands framing her face.
"You know," she said, "I used to come home from work, microwave whatever I had, and collapse in front of a spreadsheet."
He stepped closer, holding one of the small roasted tomatoes on a spoon. "Open up."
She raised an eyebrow, but parted her lips. The tomato was hot, sweet, and tangy. She moaned softly.
"You've ruined me," she said with her mouth half full. "Now I'm gonna expect roasted tomatoes and kisses every time I turn on a stove. Most girls expect cherry and kisses or chocolate and kisses. Me? Tomatoes and kisses. Huh? That's something unique."
Alex leaned in and kissed her again, tasting the warmth on her lips. "I can live with that."
They finished cooking together, brushing against each other every time they passed. He grated the cheese while she stirred the pasta. She set the table while he plated the food. Every task was a rhythm, and every pause between them was filled with a kiss, a whisper, or a touch that lingered just a little longer than necessary.
By the time they sat down to eat, the candles were lit and the city lights outside had turned the windows into mirrors. Rachel twirled a bite of pasta around her fork and looked at him across the table.
"This," she said, "feels unfair. We jump out of a plane, land like superheroes, and now we're eating pasta like a couple in a rom-com."
Alex smiled and reached for her hand. "Then let's be unfair. Let's be ridiculous and lucky and stupidly happy."
Rachel looked at their joined hands. Then she looked at him. "Yeah," she said. "Let's do that."
They raised their glasses and clinked them gently.
...
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