RED NOTES AND KISSES-Chapter 117: FRIDA -

"Wanna go skydiving in our new underwear?" Laz asked suddenly, and Frida froze mid-step.

"What?" She stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

"It’s just something crazy to do before the year’s over," he said, smirking.

"No way. I’m not going skydiving in my underwear with you," she scoffed.

"It’s on a private island," he added in a sing-song tone.

Frida gasped, narrowing her eyes. "Laz, that’s the craziest idea I’ve ever heard... It’s winter!"

He chuckled, leaning closer. "Yeah, but it’s a tropical island. Snow doesn’t exactly fall there."

They locked eyes, both smiling. After a moment, Frida broke into a grin. "Fine. Let’s do it."

Just then, a helicopter flew overhead, towing a massive banner that read, "I’m taking my girlfriend on a wild ride. I love you, Frida."

Her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my God, Laz! Everyone’s going to see that!"

Laz laughed. "I’m not hiding it."

He led her to the car, holding her hand tightly. "See? We’re already trending." He gestured toward her phone, where TikTok notifications were popping up.

She sighed, scrolling absently. "Thank God people have nothing better to do than watch you flaunt your love for me."

"That’s because you’re worth flaunting." He grinned, then his expression shifted. "Are you still thinking about the engagement with Delancie?"

Frida hesitated, her gaze softening. "Are you really going to go through with it?"

His fists clenched on the steering wheel. "I don’t want to, and neither does she. We’ll find a way around it. We have to."

"Tonight at the ball..." she whispered.

Laz nodded quietly as he pulled up near the helicopter. "Yeah, they’ll all be there. Including her."

Frida reached for his hand, her touch gentle. "You haven’t seen your mom in years. Are you ready?"

He kissed her hand. "I’ll be fine. Don’t worry."

They walked to the waiting helicopter, boarding with nervous excitement. Frida sat by the window, staring at the vast expanse of trees below. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

"You look terrified," Laz teased.

She shot him a glare. "Gee, thanks for noticing."

He smiled, drawing the curtains so the pilot couldn’t see them. Leaning in, he whispered, "Take off your clothes."

Frida blinked, but there was no hesitation. She trusted him completely. As she slipped out of her outfit, Laz did the same, revealing the matching set of luxurious underwear they’d bought earlier.

"You look amazing," he said, his voice low and sincere.

She smirked. "You’re not so bad yourself."

After strapping her into her parachute harness, Laz noticed her trembling. He placed both hands on her shoulders, steadying her. "Hey, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. We can stop now if you want. I love you, Frida. This doesn’t change that."

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she smiled through them. "I want to do this, Laz. I really do. I’m just... excited. That’s all."

His gaze softened. "Okay, then. Let’s do it."

The helicopter doors opened, and Laz guided her to the edge. The tropical island stretched out below them like a vibrant painting—lush greenery, crystal-clear waters, and patches of white sand glinting in the sun.

"Where is this?" she asked breathlessly.

"Florida Keys," he replied, holding her hand tightly. "Ready?"

She nodded, exhaling shakily. "Yes."

Together, they jumped. The wind roared around them, and Frida’s heart pounded as they free-fell. Laz held her close, his arms wrapped securely around her.

"Are you breathing, love?" he asked, his voice calm despite the chaos.

She nodded into his chest, gripping him tightly.

"I’m going to release your parachute now, okay?" he said softly.

Frida nodded again, and the next moment, she felt herself being pulled upward as the parachute deployed. The descent slowed, and Laz’s hand remained in hers.

"Open your eyes, babe," he urged.

She hesitated, then peeled her eyes open. Her breath hitched as she took in the breathtaking view—birds gliding alongside them, dolphins leaping in the ocean, and a dense jungle spread out like a living tapestry below.

"This is incredible," she whispered.

Laz chuckled. "Not so scary after all, huh?"

She grinned. "I didn’t know you were into extreme sports."

"I dabble," he said with a wink.

But then, the moment shifted. The world tilted, the wind screamed louder, and time seemed to slow.

Frida turned her head, her smile fading. Laz was bleeding.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The bullet tore through his chest, blood spilling from his mouth.

"Laaaaaaz!" Frida’s scream tore through the air, her vision spinning as they crashed headfirst into the icy water.

Panic surged through her veins. She couldn’t swim. Bubbles escaped her mouth as she thrashed against the pull of the waves, the deafening sound of the currents filling her ears.

Just as the darkness began to creep in, a heavy arm wrapped around her, dragging her upward. She gasped as her head broke the surface, coughing and choking on the bitter air.

Laz’s voice, frantic and desperate, echoed through her foggy mind. "Frida! Come on, breathe! Breathe! Please, breathe!"

Her lungs burned, her nostrils stung, and water streamed from her mouth as she coughed violently. Her vision blurred, but she blinked furiously, focusing on him.

Then she saw it—his shoulder, drenched in blood.

"Oh my God, Laz! You’re bleeding!" she cried, her hands trembling as she tried to press against the wound.

"Calm down, Frida," he said weakly, his voice strained but still steady. "I’m fine. You almost drowned. Are you okay?"

"No, I’m not okay! You’re bleeding!" Her voice cracked, panic threatening to overwhelm her.

Her mind raced. She had nothing—no cloth, no supplies—just a parachute and the sand beneath them. She had to act fast; he was losing too much blood.

She tore at the parachute material, her fingers trembling. "This is going to hurt," she warned, her voice trembling.

Laz gave her a faint smile. "This isn’t my first rodeo," he muttered, but his words faded into a groan as she pressed her hand into the wound and pulled out the bullet.

He gasped in pain, his body jerking, but she held firm. "I’m sorry," she whispered, her heart breaking at his agony.

She pressed the parachute cloth against the wound, holding it tightly until the bleeding subsided. Then, with quick, shaky movements, she wrapped the fabric around his shoulder to stem the flow of blood.

"We need to get you to a hospital, Laz, or this will get infected," she said, her voice trembling with urgency.

She grabbed her phone, relieved to find it still functional. "Hello? 911? I have an emergency!"

The operator’s voice was calm but not comforting. "It may take a while for us to reach you. Do you have access to a first aid kit?"

Frida froze for a moment, then remembered. "The helicopter! Laz, your phone—"

Her voice faltered. He was unconscious, his pulse faint but steady. Fighting back tears, she searched his pockets, pulling out his phone.

She found a speed-dial contact and quickly pressed it. "Hello? Please, help me! My boyfriend has been shot!"