The Moment We Fell

by Kelli Warner

  With arched eyebrows, Paige watches them go. When she shifts her attention back to me, the smile I missed out on the first time lazily returns to her mouth. “Your band sounds great.”

  “Thanks. Jared was a little off on that last song,” I say, raising my voice just enough that he is sure to hear me. He flashes me the middle finger, and I laugh. “You look nice,” I say.

  “Thanks.” Paige’s shoulders relax, but she nibbles on her lip. “So, what are you supposed to be?”

  “What?”

  “Your costume?” She waves a hand over the length of my torso. “No offense, but this is a Halloween party.”

  I lift the bottom of my sweatshirt up above my chest to reveal my Captain America T-shirt. “Superheroes are always undercover.”

  She laughs. “All right, I’ll give you that one. So, how long have you all been playing together?”

  “One year, two months and nineteen days,” Ash says, slipping a hand between us and extending it to Paige. Surprise fills her eyes, but she shakes his hand as he says, “But who’s counting, right? Cade’s awful at introductions, so let me help him out. I’m Ash. That’s Jared, and over there is Zeke.” Jared nods and Zeke throws her a two-fingered salute from behind his drum kit.

  “Nice to meet you,” Paige says.

  A loud whistle shoots through the crowd, and a girl calls out, “Can I have everyone’s attention?”

  I pull my eyes from Paige to see that Trina, Miranda’s sister, has climbed up on a chair. With two hands cupped around her mouth, she yells, “Helloooo? Everyone, listen up!” It takes a few seconds, but conversations begin to settle around us as the brunette, who looks a little shaky from her perch, waves her hands at the crowd. “In just a few minutes, we’re going to head down to the beach for a game of capture the tag.”

  “You mean capture the flag!” yells a guy.

  “Noooo, Ethan,” she drawls. “I mean just what I said. Capture the tag. I need everyone to pick a partner, then each team gets a flashlight and a colored flag.” Trina reaches into her back pocket and pulls out what looks like a red handkerchief. She waves it in the air. “You must protect your flag while you avoid being tagged.”

  “How do you win?” the same guy shouts.

  “You don’t!” another dude shouts back, and his response is met by laughter from the crowd.

  “The last team standing has to single-handedly steal the flag from the team that’s it, without getting tagged. If you can do that, you win!” Trina declares.

  “Who’s it?” a girl shouts from the doorway of the house.

  A tall guy with dark hair swoops Trina off the chair and into his arms as he announces, “Trina and I will be it. And the rest of you—prepare to go down!” He spins her around as another barrage of whoops and cheers bursts from the amped-up crowd.

  “Now, pick your partner and come get your flag!” Trina instructs. The guy sets her back on her feet as people rush in around them.

  From my peripheral vision, I see movement and immediately zero in on Sloane, who’s making a beeline for Paige. Oh, hell no.

  “How about it?” I ask. “Want to be partners?” My words are just loud enough that Dane slows his approach when he hears them.

  “Are you sure?” Paige asks. “I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it.”

  Dane’s eyes meet mine for the briefest of seconds, and I’ll admit, it feels pretty damn good when the realization that I just shut him down registers in angry lines across his face. Jaw tight, he turns and heads back toward Quinn and her friends.

  Without hesitation, I reach back and tug the neck of my sweatshirt, pulling it over my head. I offer it to Paige. “Here. Put this on. It’s nice and warm.”

  She wraps her sweater tighter around herself. “No, thanks, I’m fine.”

  “You won’t be in about ten minutes. The wind on the beach is harsh.” I shake the sweatshirt at her.

  “But then you’ll be cold,” she protests, glancing at my long-sleeved T-shirt.

  “Just put it on. I’ve got a jacket over there.” She glances over my shoulder, then does as I instruct, slipping the sweatshirt carefully over her head and readjusting her cat ears. She releases a relieved breath the instant the warmth surrounds her. The sweatshirt is at least two sizes too big, and she’s practically swimming in it, but she looks cute as hell. I retrieve my jacket and slip it on. “All right. Let’s do this.”

  “Wait.” Paige grabs my forearm and glances around at the couples gathering up their coats and flashlights and whispering to one another, no doubt strategizing, as they head for the stairs that lead down to the beach. She lowers her voice. “Shouldn’t we have a game plan?”

  “Trust me, you’re in good hands. I’m undefeated at beach tag and capture the flag,” I say proudly.

  She narrows her eyes. “What’s your secret?”

  “Don’t get caught.”

  She shoots me a bland look. “Obviously, Einstein, but how do we avoid that?”

  I take her hand in mine. She stares at our entwined fingers, then her questioning gaze lifts. I wink. “Stick with me, and I’ll show you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Paige

  “Where exactly are we going?” I whisper, stumbling over a ridge in the sand but managing to regain my balance. With a white-knuckled grip on the hem of Cade’s jacket, I can barely see anything in the surrounding darkness. Cade has a flashlight, but he refuses to use it because he says it will give away our position, or some boyish nonsense like that. At this rate, I’m going to break my ankle or possibly my neck. “I think we’re going the wrong way. Shouldn’t we be going toward the beach?”

  “Trust me,” he whispers over his shoulder.

  Because I don’t really have a choice, I tighten my hold on him, and after another near fall, Cade finally slows his steps. When we reach the top of a small bluff, he tugs me down so that we’re perched behind a low ridge, giving us a hiding place as well as a bird’s-eye view of the beach below. Beneath the pale silvery moon, half-shrouded by clouds, I can just make out the scattering of dark forms darting about on the sand. High-pitched squeals and laughter from the girls invade the peaceful night, along with occasional swear words shouted by their partners. The gameplay echoes against the crashing waves as the couple who’s “it” picks off the competition, one by one.

  “Okay, so now what?” I ask, gulping in the cold, salty air as I try to catch my breath from our blind hike up the sand dune.

  “We wait,” Cade says.

  “For how long?”

  “Until there’s only one team left. Then we take them down, steal their flag and claim our victory.”

  “Isn’t this technically cheating?” I ask.

  “You really suck at this,” he says, which might have ticked me off if it wasn’t for his amused tone. “Tag and capture the flag are both games of calculation. The best way to win is to let everyone do the work for you, and then you swoop in and seal the deal.”

  I roll my eyes, even though I know he can’t see me, but I consider his words. Cade’s strategy for winning is a foreign concept to me because I’ve always played by the rules. Whether it was a silly game of tag or checkers or whatever, I was raised to respect the process and put in the effort to achieve my goals. But then, where did that get me? It couldn’t save my mom when everything went wrong. In the end, all those years I’d spent diligently training to be the best dancer I could be, soldiering through the blisters, the pain and the fatigue, all in the slim hope of achieving a future I’d dreamed about since I was six years old, hadn’t matter one bit. So, maybe Cade is on to something. Maybe following the rules is pointless when you can still lose everything.

  Cries of surprise and more peals of laughter swirl up from the beach as rogue flashlight beams arc and swirl like fireflies below us. I pull my borrowed sweatshirt tighter around myself. “So, Captain, what exactly do we do until it’s time to ‘swoop in and seal the deal’?”

  “We could make out.”

 
If my surprised horror had a sound, it would be in the octave range of a lighthouse’s foghorn. What I actually hear is Cade’s soft laughter.

  “Classy,” I mutter, shifting my legs beneath me and sending thanks skyward that it’s too dim for him to see me blush.

  “I’m kidding, Bryant. Let’s just talk,” he says.

  I’m not entirely sure why, but talking with this guy makes me more nervous than the thought of a make-out session in the dark. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Well, for starters—” Even in the obscured light, I can feel his eyes on me. “Where in the world did you come from?”

  “California.” A shower of something hits my side. Did he just throw sand at me? “Hey!” I protest. “Not cool.”

  “Why do you take everything so literally?” Cade asks.

  “How was I supposed to take that? That’s where I came from. And by the way, you’re a jerk for throwing sand,” I say, brushing at my side.

  “What I meant was—how does Principal Chapman’s daughter suddenly appear out of nowhere?”

  I knew what he meant. It’s the million-dollar question. “I guess you could say he won the genetic lottery. Only he didn’t know he was playing.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I cough, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat. “Why did you tell me not to believe everything I hear?”

  “What?” Cade asks.

  “That day outside Jay’s office, after the fight,” I remind him. “You told me not to believe everything I hear.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Cade counters.

  “Ohhh, sorry, times up. It’s my turn now,” I announce.

  “Says who?”

  “Says me.”

  Cade’s silhouette shifts, and I can see that he’s shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “That’s not an answer,” I say. “Anytime you’re ready, lay it on me.”

  Just when I think he’s not going to answer, he says, “If you haven’t already figured it out, I’m not exactly part of the popular crowd.”

  “So?”

  “So, how many people have already warned you to stay away from me?” Several beats of silence pass between us. “That’s what I’m talking about. But just so you know, those people know nothing about me.”

  “Well, for your information, I don’t listen to gossip. If I judge people, I do it based on my own information,” I say. “Not the opinions of people I barely know.”

  “You’re judging me?” Disappointment colors Cade’s words.

  “Haven’t you already judged me on some level? It’s human nature.”

  Cade’s quiet for a few moments. “So, what have you decided?”

  I cock my head and study his profile. “I think you’re a gentleman.” Cade snorts. “I’m sorry, do you have some commentary you’d like to share?”

  He shakes his head. “I can’t figure you out.”

  “I’m not that complicated.”

  “Since we met, I’ve managed to get into a fight and land in detention, and you have to know by now that I’m not on Principal Chapman’s list of favorite students. What could possibly make you think I’m a gentleman?” He says it like it’s a dirty word.

  I turn my face up to the night sky, feeling the bite of the cold wind on my cheeks. “Because you helped me with my suitcase at the airport, even after I nearly tackled you because I thought you were trying to steal it.” I cringe at the humiliating memory. “You must have thought I was a complete whack job. But despite that, you came back to help me.”

  “I just wanted to make sure you found your bag. I mean, I didn’t want you to end up assaulting some other unsuspecting passenger.”

  I smile. “That’s what I’m talking about. It’s the things you do when you think no one is paying attention that matter the most. So, whether you like it or not, buddy—” I nudge his shoulder with mine. “You’re a gentleman.”

  “You’re crazy,” he murmurs, but I can hear the smile in his voice. I tug down the sleeves of Cade’s sweatshirt until my hands are safely tucked inside and shiver. “Are you warm enough?” Cade asks, inching closer to me. I could use another sweatshirt, but because that’s not an option, I nod. “There aren’t a lot of beach parties on Halloween. The weather isn’t usually this mild.”

  “This is mild?” I ask. “You mean for the North Pole?”

  He laughs softly. “Are you gonna tell me anything about yourself?”

  “On top of being uncomplicated, I’m also not that interesting.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. The whole school is practically chomping at the bit to know more about you. The principal’s mystery daughter,” he says in a low, ominous voice. “There are a lot of people trying to figure you out.”

  “You’re one to talk.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Is that a serious question?” I ask. “You’re a total mystery to most of the kids at school. And you’re either oblivious to that fact or you just don’t care. Which is it?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I think maybe you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have warned me not to listen to the rumors.” Cade doesn’t respond. “If you want to set the record straight, do it.”

  “What are you talking about?” He sounds annoyed.

  “I’m right here. Tell me the truth.” I can feel his eyes on me.

  “Fine. What have you heard?”

  Okay, I guess we’re really doing this. Honestly, I didn’t think Cade would be so willing to take me up on my offer. “Well—” I draw a deep breath. “Did your dad really kill someone?”

  Cade exhales a bitter laugh. “No.”

  “But he’s in jail?”

  “Yup.”

  “What did he do? I’m sorry, is it okay to ask that?”

  “Ask me anything you want.” The context of his words seems genuine, but his tone is guarded, like he’s not entirely ready for all the questions I might ask. Interrogating him was never my intention. I turn my focus once more toward the gameplay unfolding below us.

  “My dad was convicted of embezzlement,” Cade finally says. “He took a lot of money from a lot of people. They wanted it back.” More shrieks and laughter rise up from the beach. “Next question?”

  I stare at his profile in the darkness. “Okay. Do you sell drugs? Or hang out with people who do?”

  “No.” His answer is immediate and firm, and I feel as if I’ve put him on trial. He interprets my silence as doubt. “Do you not believe me?”

  “No, it’s not that.”

  “Come on, Bryant, spill it. You’re holding out on me.”

  “It’s just—a couple of weeks ago, at lunch, I saw you by the fence in the courtyard.”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “You passed something to a guy on the other side. It looked, well, suspicious, I guess.”

  “That was Ash. I passed him a flash drive with some new songs I’d written on it. We played two of them earlier tonight.”

  A combination of relief and embarrassment washes over me. Why did I jump to conclusions? And why did I listen to Quinn? Cade’s right; believing the rumors makes me just as bad as the people spreading them. “So, you didn’t spend time in juvenile detention?” I ask, preparing to apologize for being so ridiculous.

  “Uh, yeah. That one’s true.”

  “Oh.” The relief I’d felt moments ago oozes away from my body at warp speed. His sigh is audible, heavy with annoyance, and I don’t know whether to blabber an apology or keep talking.

  “Ask me why.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” I say, convinced that if there were an award for being a complete idiot, I would be a mighty strong contender.

  Cade’s breathing deepens. He reaches down and scoops up a handful of sand, letting it slide through his fingers. “I went through a tough time after my dad went to prison. I guess you could say I didn’t handle it very well.”

  Despite the pile of questions that pulse on th
e tip of my tongue, I press my lips tightly together, waiting for him to volunteer more information.

  “I got mixed up with the wrong crowd. We did some stupid stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, let’s see.” Cade tips back his head, looking skyward, as if the list is so long it has to be gathered from the clouds above.

  “Please tell me you didn’t kill anyone,” I whisper.

  “Is that what you heard?” he asks incredulously, then mutters, “Bastards!”

  “No, no one said that.” I’m at a loss for my next words when he takes my hand in his, single-handedly bringing my swirling thoughts to an abrupt halt. Did I just stop breathing? The warm tingling radiating across my chest most definitely confirms that my lungs are in perfect working order.

  “I stole a car. Spray-painted a few things I shouldn’t have. Nothing as serious as murder, I swear.”

  “Sorry,” I blurt out.

  “It’s okay. I knew it was wrong, but I didn’t care.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I was angry. And—because I was lost,” Cade confesses. “Acting out was easier than accepting what had happened.”

  Bravely, I scoot closer to him. Without hesitation, he puts his arm around me and pulls me into the shelter of his body. I rest my head in the crook of his neck. A soft whisper of musk tantalizes my senses and—oh my gosh, it feels like I just downed an energy drink.

  “What finally changed?” I manage.

  “I realized that wasn’t who I was. I was trying so hard to rebel, and where did it get me? I wanted to hurt my dad. The last thing in this world I want is to be like him. I figured out that being reckless and stupid wasn’t the answer. And I didn’t want to hurt Macy anymore. I saw what it did to her when I started messing up.”

  “And the bad feelings you had toward your dad—did they just go away?”

  He dips his head. “No. I hated him for what he did.”

  “How did you get over it?” I have to know how someone that angry can move on; how such deep emotions can just vanish, or at least soften. Feelings like that, the kind that take root in your center, don’t just go away. In my experience, they not only take hold, but they also grow, intertwining with the very depths of your soul until you’re consumed.