Page 42 of The Christmas Dash

Beth’s eyes are wide. “Now that you mention it, I guess you’re right. I didn’t ever put that together.” She frowns. “You also never climbed the rope to the ceiling in gym class.”

“I’d exhausted all my excuses by senior year, so I stayed home sick. I feel like such a coward even thinking about it.”

Beth squeezes my arm, drawing my gaze back to hers. “You’re not a coward.”

“It’s just that I’ve had people give me a hard time . . .” I trail off.

“Who? I’ll fight them.”

This makes me laugh. Five-foot-three Beth would go to battle for me. Gosh, it’s nice being her friend again.

“You don’t think I could?” She holds up her fists and gives a shadow punch.

“I wouldn’t bet against you.” I turn serious. “It was actually my ex.”

“Viola Rose?”

I cock my head to the side and watch as Beth’s face turns bright red.

“I mean,” she says quickly, “your mom mentioned you were dating her. But maybe you’ve dated someone else since then? Or before you dated her? I’m sure you’ve dated lots of people. A regular serial dater. Like Cap’n Crunch. Or Tony the Tiger. Or Count Chocula.” She pulls in a deep breath. “I’m going to stop now.”

I crack a grin. “You forgot the Lucky Charms leprechaun.”

She covers her face with her hands. “Ignore me. You were saying?”

“Yeah. Well, it was Viola’s turn to plan date night, and she decided it would be fun to go tandem bungee jumping.”

Beth sucks in a breath. “No.”

“Yep.” I feel hot and cold at once just remembering it. Not only the feeling of helplessness at knowing I wasn’t going to be able to jump, but the total lack of support Viola gave me.

“I made it all the way up to the platform, but I couldn’t do it. V was so annoyed, and when we got down, after I couldn’t go through with it, she kept making these snide comments, reminding me that I sing in front of thousands of people for a living, so how could I possibly be afraid of something as harmless as bungee jumping.”

“Bungee jumping is not harmless.” Beth defends, outrage on my behalf sparkling in her eyes.

“You’re tellin’ me.” I sigh. “Anyway, she’s not wrong. I have to be fearless to do my job. Or at least set aside any anxieties I have to get up there and perform. But the thought of heights is enough to send me into a complete spiral of panic. It’s pathetic.”

Beth frowns. “Being a public-facing musician has nothing to do with anything. You’re a human being. You’re allowed to have legitimate fears. Yours happens to be of heights.”

“But it’s weird. I can fly in planes no problem. Elevators and tall buildings are fine. It’s just certain things, and it makes me feel silly and small.”

“Don’t. Viola is the silly one, if you ask me. I could think of another word for her, but I won’t stoop to her level.” Beth narrows her gaze before pinning me with an arresting look. “No one should make you feel less about yourself because of your fears. If they’re not going to support you through them, then they’re not worth your time.”

She’s so matter-of-fact about it. I don’t know why I expected her to make fun of me. This is Beth I’m talking to. Sweet, kind Beth.

“Besides,” she goes on, picking up steam. I love when Beth gets on a roll and speaks her mind. It’s one of my favorite things about her. “I think acknowledging our fears and being willing to voice them is a sign of strength. Sure, there’s a time and a place to power through, but sometimes I feel like the world we live in doesn’t allow people—men and women, both—the grace to admit they’re uncomfortable.”

We stand in silence. I’m mulling over her words, marveling at the truth of them.

“You still give the best pep talks,” I say after a minute. I flick my gaze to the gondola orbs. She follows my line of sight.

“I’m happy to go up by myself,” she says. “You could just wait in the car. Listen to music or a podcast or something. Or you could hang out down here with Winnie. She’s excellent company. It’ll be totally fine. I’ll be quick, and then I can—”

I hold up my hands to stop her. She’s cute when she rambles. “I’ll come up with you. I can do it.”

Beth shakes her head. “I don’t want you to be miserable or uncomfortable.”

“Nah. I want to. I can handle it”—I gulp—“I think.” I study the poles and lines of the structure. “M-may need you to rattle off some more cereal characters to distract me.”