Page 74 of Faking It
“Trust me.”
“Famous last words.”
I look back to the computer screen and groan at the company’s mission statement: Life is full of challenges. Relationships are full of challenges, too. Challenges can be opportunities for personal growth, for trust building, for learning when to lead and when to follow, and for realizing you can lean on your partner when they are weak and vice versa. We, here at Test Your Limits, offer numerous opportunities to build your trust, improve your communication, and push you to prove to yourself that yes, you can, all the while focusing on building your bond as a couple.
Such a crock of shit.
It takes everything I have not to call Robert up and tell him to go to hell. That there’s no way I’m doing this.
I’m used to bucking protocol for the sake of keeping control . . . but fuck if Robert hasn’t been spot on in every move he’s made. This is his forte, not mine. None of my other businesses—mostly investment companies and hedge funds—need marketing on the scale that this venture does . . . and I’m hell bent on winning.
Especially after the little visit from Kostas the other day.
“YOU DOING OKAY?”
I glance over at Zane where he sits beside me. His cheeks are pale, his knee is jogging up and down, and his knuckles are white with tension where he grips the edge of the bench we’re sitting on.
“I’m fucking great,” he snaps at me. “This is such bullshit. Such an overreach of anything I told Robert he could do.”
“I think it looks fun.” I look up to the dizzying array of ropes in the trees overhead. Each of them set to test us in one way or another.
“That’s one way to put it.” He glances up and stares at me. “Remind me why we’re doing this again?
“Because we want to test that bond of yours,” our instructor Tucker—tall, dark, rugged, and handsome—explains. His smile is as bright as the sun and when his eyes meet mine, there’s interest there that I have done nothing to foster.
“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Zane mutters under his breath.
“The number one cause of fights in a relationship is stress. It’s our job to put stress on you, put you in unfamiliar situations and then help coach you in how to communicate and help the other.”
“So in other words, cause the break-up prematurely so you can swoop in and steal the girl?” Zane mutters under his breath with an edge of sarcasm.
If Tucker heard him, he doesn’t show it with the big, cheesy grin he gives us. He looks over to his far left where another employee is talking to the person with the camera and gives them a thumbs up. “Shall we get started? It seems everyone is set.”
This time Zane grumbles something that I don’t quite catch.
And he continues to through the safety lesson, the quick class in proper technique, and the explanation of each of the obstacles that definitely look challenging.
We ascend a set of steps to a platform of sorts built around a tree trunk. We’re now a good thirty feet off the ground, if not more. As much as heights don’t bug me, I get a little overwhelmed when I look down and notice how small the crew looks standing below angling their cameras up at us. “Shit that’s far,” I mutter, more than thankful they decided not to wire us with microphones and instead dub sound in later.
“This is called The Mirror,” Tucker says, looking at Zane and then me. “The purpose is for you to learn to trust each other.”
“Fucking perfect,” Zane grumbles and I ignore him. I get that he’s pissed at Robert—hell, even I was surprised by this new marketing tactic, but when you step back and look at the whole, it’s smart.
Plus we’ve been so busy travelling all over the country—most places I doubt I’ll ever visit again—so it will be nice for me to make some kind of memories other than how pretty the hotel or country club lobbies are.
“These two ropes here,” Tucker says, pointing to a set of ropes that are about three feet apart. There is another set of ropes parallel and about seven feet directly above them, so if you drew an imaginary line, it could make a rectangle. The ropes span from the tree we’re currently in across open air to another tree and platform a good fifty feet away. “We’ll hook you in on the top rope so you have a safety line to catch you when you fall—”
“When?” Zane snorts like an arrogant asshole.
“The two of you will stand on opposing ropes and face each other,” Tucker continues without even flinching. “You’ll use each other for balance to help one another get across the distance.”
“What do you mean we’ll use each other for balance?” Zane asks.
“That’s for you to figure out.”
“Seriously? That’s all you’re going to give me?” Zane again, and I’m irritated at how he’s treating Tucker for simply doing his job.
If this is how the privileged act—taking out your frustrations with one person on another—then count me out. I’d rather be poor and have kindness.
