Take It - Part Two by DJ Stone, B.E. Raj

every once in a while. It’s fun."
    Pierce has no clue that just last night in a dream Harrison taunted me with those words. He lured me in and then evaporated into thin air. But that isn’t Pierce’s fault, and his idea of living dangerously reminds me he is not Harrison. While that comparison usually leaves me cold and lonely, in this instance I’m happy he’s not the man who broke me. I’m happy he takes joy in the excitement of a flying toy.
    I do fly his seaplane, and you know what? It is fun. I love the way it dips and dives, the brilliant sunlight dancing off the silver on its sides and pontoons. With Pierce's coaching I'm able to make the plane dance through the skies, unable to keep my delighted smile from beaming. Maybe this isn’t the excitement I felt every second I was with Harrison, but it’s still something. Right?
    But it’s short lived. It happens as I'm coming out of a dive and starting into a steep climb. The plane does fine as it whizzes upward through the first fifty feet or so. I feel elated; I'm really getting the hang of sending this little beauty winging through the air. Pierce notices first.
    "Give it a little more throttle."
    It all looks fine so I ignore him, afraid of what would happen if it has too much throttle.
    "Don't forget your elevators—use them to give you lift. Jenny—throttle up."
    Immersed in finally having some control in my life again, I fail to hear Pierce's commands or the nervous rise in his voice.
    "Jenny—more throttle. You're going to stall!"
    As if by saying it he made it happen, the plane does stall. I can't hear the electric engine die; the seaplane ceases to climb for a second. A few seconds more and I stare in panicked horror as Pierce's plane begins an uncontrolled dive toward the ground.
    I'm not exactly sure what he's saying to me, I just know he's telling me what to do, and I don't like it. In angered frustration, I thrust the controller at him seconds before his seaplane slams into the ground with a horrible crunching smack.
    I can't look at Pierce, so I whirl around to look at his plane. Maybe it won't be too bad. The twisted, splintered heap of bent and broken airplane parts screams the obvious at me. This crash is fatal. Destroyed.
    Besides useless apologies, I don't know what to say. Pierce gathers up his wreckage, chairs, and table and hurls them all in the back of his truck; it's pretty clear he's at a loss for words as well. When he hops in his pickup and slams the door, I just stand there, hot tears flying down my cheeks.
    "Well, are you coming?” Pierce asks, and I slink my way into the truck.
    We drive for the first few miles in silence until he finally draws in a deep breath. “Jenny, I know you didn’t mean it. This stuff, it’s more than just a bunch of toys to me though. These hobbies, they keep me grounded. I know I told you I don’t drink, watching my dad screw up for so long made it unappealing, but the truth is I had a time where I did drink, and it wasn’t pretty. I got into these planes, some Civil War re-enactment stuff, and even a trapeze class. Keeping my hands busy, it’s always helped me stay focused. The guys at the station, they screw around and call me a geek, and I can understand if you feel that way too. Being a nice guy with a couple hobbies doesn’t tend to have the same appeal as the bad boys who break hearts.”
    “I’m not looking for a guy to break my heart. I don’t need a bad boy. I like that you have hobbies, and I’m really sorry that I broke your plane. You’ve done so much for me, and I should have listened more closely when you were telling me how to fly it. I don’t think you’re a geek. You’re a hot firefighter who’s saved my life twice. How could I not be attracted to you?”
    “You think us waiting is a mistake though, don’t you? I’ll be honest, there are plenty of moments I just want to forget what’s right and do what feels good. I’m trying to be strong so that we might have a