In the morning, we go down to have breakfast in the dining room with the rest of the Lodge’s guests. Gatsby doesn’t want to, but I insist. Both Wyatt and Atticus are already there, their plates overflowing with all sorts of delicious goodies from the buffet.

I am starving and pile spoonfuls of omelet onto my plate. The Belgian waffle, which is made before my very eyes, makes me salivate, and I pour a generous amount of maple syrup into each square.

Wyatt waves to me, and I head in his direction. They are sitting at a four-person table and move their trays to accommodate Gatsby and me. It’s is the first time that I see his brothers in the daylight.

They are even more beautiful than they were last night. They both have strong jaws, defined cheekbones, and large eyes. Wyatt’s eyelashes are so long that they give him a wide-open look, which I am sure he expertly uses to his advantage to woo girls. Atticus is more serious. He doesn’t smile much, and he looks as if he is holding up the world on his shoulders.

“So which one of you is the oldest?” I ask after we make pleasant chitchat about how everyone’s night was.

I suspect that Atticus is, but I’m not sure. Wyatt is definitely the youngest. He has this carefree attitude that suggests nothing bothers him and that everything’s going to be fine, which I know runs in youngest children.

“I am,” Gatsby says, sitting down next to me.

From the look on his face, I can tell that he’s not happy that I have decided to join his brothers for breakfast. But I am curious about them because they are part of him, and I want to know more.

“Gatsby’s the oldest, but Atticus won’t forgive him for it,” Wyatt jokes.

Atticus rolls his eyes, and Gatsby just looks away with a guilty look on his face. The tension between them can be cut with a knife, but Wyatt seems to just find the whole thing curious.

“So what are your plans today?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

Atticus ignores me, but Wyatt says, “We were actually planning on going sky diving.”

I feel my eyes open wide. Sky diving! He mentions sky diving as if the idea is as casual as going to get some coffee.

“Really?” I ask excitedly. I never told anyone this, but I have been wanting to go sky diving for sometime now. I am terrified at the thought, but that’s what draws me to it.

“Yeah.” Wyatt nods and looks at me. “Why? Do you want to go?”

The invitation is so informal that I am not sure if it’s real. But before I know it, I accept.

“It’s okay if we go, right?” I turn to Gatsby.

He nods, but the expression on his face says something else completely. He is not happy. At this moment, I don’t care.

I am suddenly filled with a strange mixture of adrenaline, anticipation, and fear. I don’t know what came over me, and I say yes before even coming to my senses. But a big part of me is glad. Sometimes coming to one’s senses is overrated.

“It’s just that I’ve never been,” I add, trying to explain myself. “You don’t have anything planned, do you?”

Gatsby opens his mouth to say something, but Wyatt cuts him off.

“Even if he does, there’s no way it’s as cool as sky diving.”

I smile. I know he’s right. But the expression on Gatsby’s face worries me.

“No,” he says reluctantly. I know he doesn’t want to go, but I feel an unexplainable urge to go. I am afraid and excited at the same time. And I can’t pay attention to how Gatsby feels.

“Great,” I say quickly, well aware of my self-involvement. “Then we’re in.”

After Wyatt and Atticus leave the room, Gatsby and I are left alone at the table. He looks at me with a disapproving expression on his face. His eyes are narrowed and his lips are turned downward.

I look away. I don’t care that he’s upset. No, that’s not entirely true. I don’t want to care. I want to go, and I don’t want him to take this away from me.

“Why did you do that?” he asks, finishing the rest of his mimosa.

I eat the rest of my Belgian waffle before answering.

“Because I really want to go. I’m scared shitless, but who isn’t, right? I’ve wanted to go sky diving for a long time, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. To go with you, I mean.”

“Yes, except that you didn’t ask me.”

“I thought you’d be down for it.”

He looks away from me. Now he doesn’t look so much disapproving as disappointed. “It’s not that I don’t want go to skydiving with you. It’s that I don’t want to go with them.”

“They seem perfectly fine,” I say naively. I realize how innocent I come off. It’s not that I’m trying to take their side, I’m just trying to make peace. At least for this weekend.

“You don’t know them,” Gatsby says.

“I think it’ll be fun,” I insist.

I need to make this a good decision. I basically hijacked the whole day, and I need for it to work out. Otherwise…otherwise, I’m not sure if we’re going to have another date.

“Skydiving will be fun, but my brothers aren’t fun.” Gatsby shakes his head. “I’m afraid that you’ll discover that soon enough.”

I don’t know what he means. I don’t want to.

---

We arrive at a small airport later that afternoon. The office where we fill out all the releases and pages and pages of paperwork smells of diesel and adrenaline. When we watch the introductory video, my heart starts to race, and I take deep breaths to calm it down. I’m starting to have second thoughts. But Gatsby takes my hand and flashes me a smile. I feel a little better.

The eighteen-year-old kid at the front desk has an infectious, upbeat personality that puts me at ease even more.

“Are you sure want to do this, Gatsby?” the kid asks.

Gatsby nods and shrugs. A familiar, mischievous smile appears on his face, confusing me.

“What’s going on?” I ask. Wyatt shakes his head and laughs.

“You’ll see,” Gatsby says. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

He leads me to the place in the back where Atticus is already paired up with an instructor.

Gatsby goes to the open closet and picks out a jumpsuit for me. He hands it to me.

“This should be a fit,” he says. When I step into it and zip it up, he hands me the helmet and the goggles and then tells me to step into the harness.

“Shouldn’t my partner be doing this?” I ask looking at Wyatt and Atticus, who are both getting strapped in by their partners.

“He is,” Gatsby says, tightening the straps.

I look around. Gatsby’s partner is also nowhere to be found. Finally, I get it.

“You’re…but how…?”

“I’ve done this a few times before,” he jokes. “Don’t worry.”

While adjusting his own straps and checking the other instructors’ straps, I learn that he’s been sky diving since he was eighteen. He’s been qualified to take other people on tandem jumps since he was twenty.

A big part of me is relieved that he’s the one that I’m jumping with. But not enough to make blood come back into my ice-cold hands and to stop my heart from beating out of my chest.

When we’re all ready to walk toward the plane, Gatsby gives me a quick peck on the cheek and whispers,

“Don’t worry, no one I’ve dove with has died yet.”

He’s joking, of course, trying to put me at ease. I laugh, but I don’t find it funny.