The Hardest Fall

by Ella Maise

  “Of course you’d doubt it, because you’re paper bag ugly,” Jared repeated again, slowly shaking his head to emphasize his disappointment in me.

  “Annnyway,” I drew out the word then, ignoring Jared, continued. “We’ll be staying in the same apartment for crying out loud, and there is no way Mark wouldn’t find out about it.”

  “So it all comes back to Mark.”

  Frowning, I lowered my voice and leaned forward. “No, it doesn’t, Jared. I said he is hot, and yeah, he does sound like a good person, but just because he is those two things doesn’t mean I’m gonna fall at his feet and confess my love—or lust, for that matter. I’m only acting all weird around him because of what happened freshman year and because…okay, yeah, I think he is good-looking, but that’s about it. You know that’s not a good combo for me. Don’t you remember how I was when you first talked to me in that art history class? Was I in love with you? No. That’s just who I am, how I am until I warm up to people, and what I also am is embarrassed around him. First I ask him if I can kiss him like some kindergarten kid, and then the next time he sees me, I knock over some guys’ model building and get yelled at right in front of him and his friends, including Chris, as if things couldn’t get any worse. If all that’s not enough, another year passes and here I am dropping my towel and showing my tits and plastering myself to him. I’m not mentioning the part where I attacked him because I was right to do so.”

  “So, being his friend is the best idea here—we all agree on that, yes?” Kayla looked at Jared and then me. “You’ll get used to having him around. If I know you as well as I think I do, there’ll be a lot of nervous laughing and hiding out in your room in your future if you don’t do something about it. So, actually try to be his friend since you’re so adamant about not having a crush on him. Jared is good-looking and you’re not a blubbering mess around him anymore,” Kayla offered, gesturing at our friend.

  “If I was interested in girls, this one would be all over me by now, so I’m not sure if I’m a good example in this situation, KayKay,” Jared chimed in.

  I snorted. “Oh, please. As if. That’s all I’m saying to you: as if. Also, you wish…and last but not least, in your dreams.”

  So, instead of acting casual—as Kayla had so nicely suggested—and hiding in my room whenever I could, I was going to become friends with Dylan Reed. Sounded easy enough.

  It was around five in the evening when I managed to make it back to the apartment after spending several long hours in the photography lab. Before I got to turn my key and step inside, the door at the end of the hall opened and Ms. Hilda peeked out from behind the cracked door.

  “Miss Clarke, is that you?”

  She was eighty-five years old and her eyes worked better than mine—she knew perfectly well that it was me.

  “Yes, Ms. Hilda, it’s just me,” I yelled over my shoulder, my movements urgent.

  I turned the key and opened the door, hoping she wouldn’t ask me anything else and I would get to throw myself face first on the couch for a few minutes and then maybe force myself to get up and make a quick sandwich for dinner afterward before Dyl—

  “Could you be a lamb and—”

  Oh, not the lamb. I never wanted to be a lamb.

  Please don’t say hang the curtains. Please don’t say hang the curtains.

  “—hang the curtains back up?”

  Hanging my head in despair, I closed the door, cursing myself for completely forgetting about her and making enough noise to wake up the dead while walking up the stairs. I walked back to stand in front of her now fully open door. “Did you wash your curtains again, Ms. Hilda?”

  She grunted and raised a brow at me as if to say, What’s your point?

  “I’m only asking because you’ve already washed them five times this month.” I had been chosen as the worker bee who hung the clean curtains back up because she just couldn’t manage to do it herself. It was fine, because she really couldn’t, and it only took me ten minutes to hang them all back up anyway, but I always wondered who else she cornered to take them down every other day.

  “I like a clean house, Miss Clarke.”

  Of course she liked a clean house. She roped me into vacuuming her apartment almost weekly, not to mention her never-ending list of other small tasks. If you weren’t quiet enough and that door of hers opened, she had chores she wanted you to handle. If she had been one of those sweet old grandmas who gave you warm chocolate chip cookies for helping her, or maybe sometimes offered you a home-cooked meal because you were a student who missed having home-cooked meals, she would be so lovable. But, no. She was…I had no idea how to be polite about my choice of word, but she was basically a witch. As I said, if she caught you, she always roped you into helping her out with something, and on top of that she basically sucked all the energy right out of you while she was at it. That was why I always tiptoed when I reached our floor.

  “I’m really tired and I haven’t had anything to eat since this morning. I’ll come after—”

  “You young people… You should never leave today’s work for tomorrow.” The door opened all the way and she stood back. I would’ve agreed with her if it had been my own work I had to handle without leaving it for tomorrow. I hadn’t even said I’d do it the next day. All I wanted to do was sit my ass down and eat something before I had to tackle her. Holding back a frustrated scream and gritting my teeth, I gave her a toothless smile and walked in.

  Before I was even four steps into her apartment, she closed her door and started in on me. “Was that a young man I saw leaving the apartment this morning, Miss Clarke? Back in my time, we wouldn’t get near boys. These things were frowned upon, but I guess times have changed. At least this one is closer to your age. Did you know the girl in 5B cheated on her boyfriend? I heard them arguing just this afternoon—”

  I wasn’t even sure who lived in 5B. Tuning her completely out, I did what she’d asked me to do and as soon as it was done, I almost ran back out before she could ask me to take Billy out for a walk. Billy was the cat from hell who hid every time someone other than Ms. Hilda was in the house, and when he was thrust into someone’s hands (i.e., mine), his go-to course of action was to scratch the hell out of your arms for even daring to touch him.

  As I practically jogged toward the door that would take me to safety, I could hear Ms. Hilda’s quick footsteps following me. For an eighty-five-year-old woman, she moved surprisingly fast when she wanted to and caught up to me just as I opened her door.

  “You have a nice evening now, Miss Clarke, and I’ll let you know if I learn more about the girl in 5B. I bet we’ll see her new boo—”

  I took a step out and collided with the hard body of a wide receiver in my haste to escape. Dylan had apparently just walked up the last step of the stairs, and he grunted in surprise. I gasped and he went back down a step. Grabbing me right above the elbow, he steadied us both before I could fall on him and quite possibly break his neck on the way down the stairs.

  “Zoe?”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I apologized quickly as he let go of my arm.

  This guy would forever remember me as ‘the klutz I had to live with that one year and had seen around campus twice before that’.

  Before I could explain anything to Dylan or warn him telepathically, Ms. Hilda cleared her throat behind me and I barely held back a groan. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. If I didn’t wrap this up quickly, she would hold us hostage for who knew how long.

  Here we go.

  “Ah, Dylan, here you are,” I exclaimed a little louder than necessary so Ms. Hilda would have no trouble hearing—though when it came to the old woman’s hearing, it was always a crapshoot. I plastered the biggest smile on my face and tried to come up with something in the two seconds it took me to right myself and face my nosy neighbor. “We were just talking about you, weren’t we Ms. Hilda?” Before the poor guy could understand what was happening, I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up to stand nex
t to me—or more accurately, I urged him to stand next to me, because with the way those muscles felt under my hand, I couldn’t imagine anything my size could move him even an inch if he didn’t want to be moved.

  My next brilliant move was to pat his arm and discreetly squeeze it as a warning, but then I felt his muscles flex under my touch and I forgot what I was going to say.

  Holy shit…

  I looked up at Dylan and our gazes met. I had no freaking idea what he was thinking, but I quickly looked away and pried my fingers off of his arm.

  If we both wanted to get away from Ms. Hilda’s endless chatter, I had to focus on one thing at a time. I thought telling a little white lie wouldn’t hurt anybody if it meant we’d get back to the apartment and I’d get to my dinner sooner.

  “This is who you must’ve seen leaving this morning, Ms. Hilda. His name is Dylan Reed and he’s my new roommate.”

  Both Dylan and I watched Ms. Hilda take him in from head to toe. Shamelessly, I did the same. He was wearing black and gray Nike shoes, light gray sweatpants—which killed me, because gray sweatpants on a guy was heaven on earth, especially when they wore them in the morning—and a white t-shirt that stretched across his impressive chest, the sleeves hugging those arms I had touched only seconds before. He was also toting a big-ass bag that hung low on his hip, the strap crossed over his chest.

  Ms. Hilda must not have been impressed because she released another grunt. Excluding our old Hilda, if any living, breathing female wasn’t impressed when they clapped eyes on Dylan Reed, I was ready to give up pizza—for a week—and that was the biggest commitment one could make.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ms…” Dylan trailed off.

  “Hilda,” I jumped in before he got her started. “I forgot to mention her to you, didn’t I? This is Ms. Hilda. I was just helping her out with something and she mentioned how she had seen a young man leave the apartment and was confused about who you were.”

  “Oh?” Dylan asked politely, glancing between me and our neighbor.

  “I wasn’t confused, Miss Clarke. I gave you my exact thoughts on how I felt about another boy living with you. This one”—she turned to look at Dylan as she pointed her thumb at me—“should’ve been a juggler in a circus instead of fiddling away with that camera she can’t seem to part ways with.”

  “Oh, but, Ms. Hilda, you didn’t hear the best part yet.” I put my arm through Dylan’s, stood a little bit closer to him, basically plastering my front to his side, and had to forcefully suppress the involuntary shiver caused by standing too close to him. I leaned toward Ms. Hilda as if I was about to give her the world’s biggest secret. She leaned forward too—she lived for gossip. “I’m afraid he’s not into us girls,” I whispered loud enough that she could hear, which meant Dylan could hear me perfectly clearly, too. Ms. Hilda’s eyebrows furrowed and she gave Dylan another long look.

  “Uh, excuse me?” Dylan spoke up after a few seconds of silence.

  I angled my body toward him and this time patted his chest area, completely ignoring his lined forehead and questioning gaze. I had no idea where I was going with the whole petting thing, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

  “Nothing to be sorry about,” the old woman answered, mistaking Dylan’s question as an apology.

  “Yes, nothing to be sorry about, Dylan,” I repeated.

  Dylan’s eyes jumped from me to Ms. Hilda. “I don’t—”

  Before Dylan could finish his sentence, I discreetly stepped on his foot with my heel and applied as much pressure as I could. Points to him for not even letting out a grunt. Slowly he turned his head toward me and raised an eyebrow. I gave him the sweetest smile I could come up with and pulled my foot away.

  “Ms. Hilda is a very open-minded woman,” I explained, gesturing toward her with my head. “Nothing like her peers, right Ms. Hilda?”

  She stood a little taller. “Yes, yes, that I am. Those old farts are nothing like me. Keep your head high, young man. There is nothing wrong about love. Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “Uh…”

  “You can tell me.”

  “Come on, Dylan,” I urged, lightly shaking his arm. The sooner he went along with it and appeased her, the sooner we could get away. “Don’t be shy.”

  He turned his head toward me yet again and gave me a long look that melted the smile right off my face, not because his expression promised a violent retribution, but the opposite, actually. He looked amused, a little confused maybe, but still amused, which was weird and unexpected. I frowned up at him and his lips twitched.

  Still keeping his eyes on me, he finally said, “Actually, I do have a boyfriend.”

  “Is he a nice boy?”

  With an easy smile, he broke our eye contact and turned back to her. “He’s really nice. I’m lucky to have him.”

  The old woman slightly tilted her head and gave him her signature narrow-eyed look, where one of her eyes always narrowed more than the other one, making her look anything but serious. “How long have you two been together?”

  Dylan seemed to ignore the wonky-eyed expression; again, points for him. The first time I’d seen her do it, I’d barely kept in my snort.

  “It’s been two years.”

  “See, Miss Clarke. See? Maybe you can learn something from your roommate.”

  I let out a long breath through my nose and managed to keep the smile on my face. “I know. I’ll make sure to ask him for tips. Have a good even—”

  “Mr. Reed, your roommate has the worst taste in men. Please teach her a thing or two, ‘cause it looks like nothing I’m saying is getting through to her.”

  You can’t close the door on her face, Zoe. You absolutely cannot close the door on an old lady’s face.

  “Please call me Dylan, and I will definitely try my best to teach her a few things. I agree with you—she should be with someone better. I’ll make her see reason, don’t worry.”

  “Good.” She gave me one last glance and started to close the door, only to stop halfway. “You know what Dylan? I like you. It’s a shame you like boys, as Miss Clarke could’ve used a nice strong boy like yourself.”

  Anyone up there? God? You can kill me now.

  Turning to me, she continued, “I like him. Be nice to this one.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Okay then.” Remembering my arm was still wrapped up with Dylan’s, I untangled myself as we finally turned toward our own apartment.

  “Mr. Reed?”

  Ah…just when we were so close to freedom.

  I felt Dylan pause and turn back, but I just kept going. I already knew she was gonna bestow a chore on him, and I had no interest whatsoever in letting her pull me into it, too.

  Unlocking the door, I went inside. After making sure to leave it ajar for Dylan, I walked into the living room and just collapsed on the couch. Pulling my crossbody bag away, I flung it somewhere over my shoulder. The door closed with a quiet click in time with me covering my face with my hands.

  There was a loud thud followed by footsteps and then nothing. I could already feel him standing over me so I shouldn’t have felt the urge to look up to see the expression on his face, but just to make sure, I peeked through my fingers and…yup, he was right there, those big strong arms crossed over his chest, an eyebrow raised…waiting. I should’ve gone straight to my room.

  “Hello to you, too, Zoe,” he said when he realized nothing was coming out of my mouth.

  I groaned and hid my face again.

  “Care to tell me what just happened?”

  I sort of snorted and then couldn’t keep it in any longer. First, my shoulders started shaking, then my quiet, private laughter grew louder. When I had it under control and my laughs had pretty much died down to snickers, I chanced another look at him.

  Thank God he had a big grin on his face; it helped me feel like less of a fool.

  I dropped my head back and stared at the ceiling. “You’re not angry at me, are you? I’m really hoping that smile on your fac
e means you’re amused and not psychotic.”

  Feeling big hands curl around my ankles made me sit straight up with the unexpectedness of it. Not affected by my little jump, Dylan gently set my feet down and sat right next to me, in the middle of the couch. I scooted back a few inches more until my back hit the armrest and there was a little more space between us, more room to breathe—hopefully.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll decide after you tell me what happened back there.”

  “I know you said you hate liars last night, but this doesn’t count, okay? You shouldn’t hate your roommate.” Clearing my throat, I gave him something between a smile and a grimace. “She is the landlord and the only person over twenty-five living in this building. She is nosy as hell. I swear to you she knows everything that goes on. She’d already talked my ear off before I bumped into you, which is why I bumped into you, really, because I was trying to get away, and she thought I was being a slut and was basically trying to save me from myself. It’s not that I care, but again, she is nosy as hell, and once she gets going, it turns into an interrogation, but what am I supposed to do? She’s old, so I can’t snap at her. I had to tell her something.”

  Dylan stretched his arm across the back of the couch and leaned just a little bit forward, causing me to lean back—just in case.

  “So the best thing you could come up with was telling her I was gay?”

  Another snort escaped me and I blushed. “No harm, no foul, right? It seemed like the best idea at the time. At least this way she won’t camp out in front of our door.”

  “You couldn’t tell her we were just friends?”

  Right, I was gonna be friends with him.

  “Her mind doesn’t work like that. Boys and girls can’t be friends. She thinks boys are after one thing and one thing only, and since you’re a boy…she’d think you’re after my…”

  “After your…” He trailed off, waiting for me to fill the silence. I wasn’t going to do that.