Crashing Down

by Samantha Conley

  “Hey,” I say, a flirty smile aimed straight toward him. He glances up and flashes me a grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

  “I just texted you. Did you get it?”

  “Yes, but it would’ve taken me longer to answer than it was to walk over here to you. You ready to see this movie?” Nodding, he grabs my hand, and we head up to the concession area. I order popcorn and a drink, then turn toward Todd again.

  “Do you want anything? My treat,” I say, offering him a sweet smile. His brow furrows before he raises one, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. Feeling a bit unsettled, I wring my hands together, and add, “Since you bought the tickets, I figured I could get the—”

  “I’m the man. I’m supposed to pay. Not you.” My eyes widen at his tone, and I step back, letting him “be the man.” A little old fashioned, but we are in the south, where you mind the manners your mama taught you.

  “Just thought I would offer,” I mutter as he pulls out his wallet and adds a drink to what I ordered. Snacks in tow, we head into the theater and find some seats near the back. I move to head in first, but a hold on my bicep pulls me back. I furrow my brow as he steps in front of me, taking the seat next to a burly looking guy. I try to figure out the motivation behind his actions, and a small smile touches my lips, figuring he just didn’t want me to be uncomfortable. I scoot down the aisle and settle in beside him, my elbow bumping his as I adjust myself in the seat.

  He smiles over at me, and I smile back, settling in. As the previews roll, we joke about the stupid sounding plots and awe over the ones that sound interesting. When the movie starts, we both become quiet as we watch. One point in his favor. One of my biggest pet peeves is people who talk during movies.

  After the movie is over, we walk to a little Mexican restaurant right around the corner. They have the most amazing street tacos.

  Todd looks down at me, and asks, “What are you having?”

  “Hmmm…a pulled pork, fried avocado, and the Mexican corn on the cob. I can never say the word right. And a bottle of water.” He quirks a blond eyebrow at me. “What?” I ask innocently.

  “That’s a lot of food for a little girl. Just wondering where you’re going to put it all. Do you have a hollow leg?”

  “You’ll just have to wait and see.” Throwing him a wink, we move forward in the line to place our order. I’ve always had a fast metabolism and can eat pretty much whatever I want. I work out, but I don’t have to watch my calories. Grabbing our food, Todd leads us to seats out on the patio, and I immediately dive in, going straight for the corn. At my first bite, I moan, the flavor bursting over my tongue.

  “Should I be jealous of that corn right now?” he chuckles, drawing my attention away from the glorious explosion in my mouth. Nodding, I take a sip of my water.

  “It’s delicious,” I say, deciding I could be a bit more lady-like.

  “Where are you from originally?” I ask between bites.

  “The accent gives it away, huh?”

  “Just a little.” I chuckle.

  “I grew up in Colorado.”

  “What brought you down here?”

  “I got a baseball scholarship to play at UNT. Full ride. Too good to pass up.”

  “What’s your major?”

  “Business. You?”

  “Nursing. Just finished this last semester.”

  “Me too. Just waiting on that diploma now. Which school?’

  “Texas Women’s University.”

  “You have to do some kind of testing before you can actually start nursing, though, right?

  “Yes, I have to pass a test administered by the Texas Board of Nurse examiners before I can add RN after my name.”

  “Do you know when you’re taking it?”

  “The first available date is in a couple months. Fortunately, I can still work as a graduate nurse until then.”

  “Have you always lived in Texas?”

  “Born and raised. I can’t imagine living anywhere else. My dad’s here.”

  “I eventually want to move back to Colorado. I miss having four seasons. I miss my family.”

  “Are y’all close?”

  “Very. I talk with my parents at least twice a week and try to get home as much as I can. And you? What about your family?

  “It’s just me and my dad. My mom passed away a few years ago with cancer. I’m an only child, so we depend on each other,” I answer, clearing my throat. Talking about my mom always chokes me up.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t know what I would do without my mom.” He reaches over and grasps my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

  “Thanks. I still miss her. It’s made my dad a tad overprotective at times.”

  “I can understand that. I’m sure your dad doesn’t want to lose you, too.” His thumb sweeps back and forth across the back of my hand in a comforting way.

  Sitting around, we talk about this and that for around an hour before we get up and throw away our trash. Heading out toward the parking lot, Todd grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers. The warmth of his hand in mine feels good, comforting. Stopping at the back of my car, he pulls me toward him, and gives me a soft kiss on the forehead.

  “I had a nice time tonight. Can we do it again tomorrow?”

  “I can’t. Dinner plans with my dad. But I’d like to go out again. Can we work something out later this weekend?”

  He nods before leaning down and softly brushing his lips against mine.

  “Drive safe and let me know when you get home. Please.”

  Getting in my car, I pull the door closed, start it up, and back out of the spot with a small wave goodbye. Pulling out onto the road, I drive back to my apartment.

  Going back into my bedroom, the notification light from my phone catches my eye. I pick it up, sighing. I forgot to let Todd know I got home. I click open the messages and furrow my brows at three texts. That’s a little excessive.

  Todd: Made it home yet?

  Todd: Mallory? Answer me please.

  Todd: I’m worried. You need to answer!

  I text him back.

  Me: Sorry. Not used to having to check in. I made it home fine.

  A few seconds later, he responds.

  Todd: Glad to hear.

  Todd: Too many crazies out on the road. I had a great time tonight. Sweet dreams.

  I toss my phone on the bed and climb in, grabbing the remote. Turning on the TV, I yawn and cuddle up with my pillow, settling in for an episode of Diners, Drives, and Dives.

  Down On My Knees

  Camryn - December

  “Camryn, it’s just not working. We both know that. I care about you, but I’m not in love with you.”

  Watching Adam pace across the living room, footsteps muffled by the thick carpet, I numbly absorb his words.

  “You want to break up?” I ask, my disbelief apparent.

  Pausing in front of me, he runs his hands through his hair, making the inky strands stand up in disarray, bicep stretching his shirt to the limit. Normally that sight would have me licking my lips knowing that those strong arms would be wrapped around me, but now I’ll never feel the warmth of his embrace

  “Are you happy, Cam? Really happy? ‘Cause I’m not,” he says, the tone of his voice telling me he already knows the answer.

  “I am…I think.”

  “You think?” he asks, incredulous. “If you only think you are, you’re not. I want you to be happy. You deserve that, and so do I.”

  “You want to break up?” Jeez, I sound like a damn parrot.

  Kneeling on the carpet in front of me, Adam grips my cold hands in his and rests his forehead against them before looking up at me with sad gray eyes.

  “Cam, I love you, but I’m not in love with you. And I think we are better off apart.” His eyes search my face before he continues. “I want to fall in love with someone and spend the rest of my life with her. Have babies and grow old together.”

  “Is there someone else?” I try to co
ntrol the tremble in my voice as I ask the question that has been plaguing me for months. The insecurity in the back of my mind is unrelenting.

  “There’s no one else, Cam,” he breathes out.

  “Has there been?”

  “No, I haven’t cheated on you.” He hesitates before he continues, guilt written on his face. “I’ve been tempted, and I’ve come damn close, but I couldn’t do that to you. That’s not the kind of man I am.”

  Reaching up, he wipes tears I hadn’t even realized had fallen from my cheek.

  “This for the best, Camryn. You deserve to be loved like you are the air he breathes, the beat of his heart, the warmth of his soul. That’s not me. And you’re not for me. If we don’t let each other go, we’ll never find the piece of our heart that’s missing.”

  Leaning forward, he places a soft kiss on my forehead before standing up.

  “I’ll always be here if you need me, Camryn. Always.”

  Turning, he strides to the door and picks up the black duffle bag I never saw sitting beside it. With one last look over his shoulder, he walks out of the door and out of my life, leaving me sitting there alone—again.

  The ringing of the phone wakes me from an exhausted sleep. Blinking, I reach for the phone, my hand patting the table until I touch the device and grab it before it vibrates off the edge.

  “He—” I croak before clearing my throat to try again. “Hello?”

  “Camryn? Hey, it’s Sarah. I’ll be there to pick you up a six tonight. That okay?”

  “Huh? What’s tonight?” I rack my brain, trying to remember, but my thoughts are fuzzy from my night of drowning my sorrows.

  “We’re going to see my boyfriend’s band play, remember?” she asks, exasperated.

  “That’s tonight?” I push back the long, red strands of hair covering my face.

  “Yes, silly. It’s New Year’s Eve. Is Adam going to meet us there?”

  “Uh…no, he’s not.” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “We…um, broke up last night.”

  “Oh, shit. Really?” Shock bleeds into concern as she speaks.

  “Yeah, and I’m not sure I feel like going out tonight.”

  “Bullshit. You need to get out tonight and get him off your mind. Even if it’s just for a little while. You can drink and dance and have a good time. I’ll be the designated driver so you won’t have to worry about drinking too much,” she orders like a drill sergeant.

  “Sarah, I’m not sure,” I waver.

  “I’ll be there in three hours, and I’m dragging your ass out whether you want to go or not.”

  “Sarah…Sarah?” The silence on the other end of the line assures me she hung up.

  Son of a bitch.

  Pushing down the covers, I swing my legs off the side of the bed. With the movement, my stomach rolls and whatever’s left in there threatens to make a reappearance. Ugh, how much did I drink last night? I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck, and my pulse pounds like a jackhammer in my head.

  Glancing at the clock, I groan. It’s two in the afternoon. I’ve slept the day away. I make my way to the bathroom and flip on the light, blinding myself in the process. Blinking, my eyes adjust to the brightness of the room, and what I see in the mirror would scare small children. I am not a pretty crier. My eyes are red and puffy. I look like someone punched me. My face is splotchy, nose raw, hair tangled and matted to my head…

  There’s no way I’m going to be presentable for tonight.

  Turning on the hot water in the shower, I take off Adam’s Calloway Construction t-shirt and aim toward the hamper. Pausing, I take one last smell of the cologne clinging to the material, then drop it into the trash instead. I don’t need constant reminders of him lingering.

  Steam billows from the shower as I open the curtain. Nothing in the world is better than a hot shower. The longer I stand under the spray, the better I feel, until the water starts to cool off. Before collapsing back on my bed, I down four ibuprofens and lay a cool, wet washcloth over my eyes.

  Loud knocking jars me from sleep, and the now warm washcloth slides off my face, landing on the floor with a soft, wet plop. I stand up, waiting to see if my stomach is going to rebel as my towel drifts to the bed. I reach for my robe and wrap it around me while walking into the living room. Looking through the peephole, Sarah’s standing there with a big pink bag hanging from her shoulder, impatience written on her face. I lean my head softly against the door, contemplating whether to open it.

  “I’m not leaving, Camryn. You might as well open this door.”

  Flipping the lock, I open the door and step back as she barrels through.

  “Well, you look like shit,” she blurts out. “But no excuses, you’re coming out with me tonight. Move it, sister.”

  “Hi to you, too,” I mumble to her back as she walks into the living room.

  “Sorry, hon. I know this is a tough time for you. Let’s get you dolled up, and we’ll paint this town tonight.”

  “I don’t get dolled up.”

  “Tonight, you sure as hell are. I’m gonna raid your closet, but I brought back-ups if we need them. You’ll be smoking hot by the time I’m through.”

  I seriously have my doubts, but I can’t deny Sarah knows her stuff. I’m a bigger girl, so I always try to make myself as plain as possible to avoid drawing attention—dark clothes, sensible shoes, and a simple French braid to keep my curly hair tamed. Sarah, on the other hand, flaunts her goods. She may be a couple inches shorter than my five-nine, but she’s curvier than I am. She skirts the line between professional and club wear when at work. Cleavage should be her middle name. The length of her skirts could be considered scandalous for an office. And the four-inch heels she wears would cause me to break my neck. She never lacks attention from the opposite sex, though, and revels in the adoration. I can’t help but be a little jealous of her confidence.

  “Okay, hair and makeup first, or outfit?” she asks, looking me over with a critical eye.

  “Um...”

  “Outfit first, then I can decide how to do your makeup.”

  Throwing open my closet door, she begins rummaging through my clothes while clucking her tongue. All my sensible work clothes are in the front, but she quickly pushes them out of the way and reaches into the back of the closet.

  “Eureka!” she yells as she backs out holding an emerald dress. “This is going to be gorgeous on you.” Spying the tags still attached to the garment, she asks, “Why haven’t you worn this before?”

  “Uh, I’ve never had a chance to, I guess. Kristen talked me into buying it, but I didn’t have the guts to wear something that low cut.”

  “Tonight, you are gonna rock this dress.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be comfortable in it.” My upper arms will look horrible with all their extra flab, I think in disgust while imagining the jiggle with every motion.

  “Okay.” Moving back to the closet to hang it up, she pauses. “Wait, don’t you have that short denim jacket?”

  “It’s somewhere in there, I think. I’ve only worn it once.” Laying the dress on the bed, she goes back to digging through the clothes. After a couple minutes, she pulls the jacket out.

  “Now, shoes. Do you have cowboy boots?”

  “Actually, I do. They’re in the hall closet.”

  “Perfect. Time for the hair. Get in the bathroom, sister.” Her tone brooks no argument.

  “Let me grab a chair to sit on while you work your magic.”

  Half an hour of her applying goop and spray, my hair is shaped in perfect ringlets, the likes of which I’ve never seen before. Usually when I leave my hair down, my curls just look like a big frizz ball.

  “How the hell did you do that? I can never make it look like this,” I ask, running a finger over one of the tendrils.

  “The right products help, and from what I can see, you don’t have them. Don’t worry, I’m leaving the ones I brought for you.”

  “Sarah…” My eyes catch hers in the
mirror.

  “I insist. I’m tired of you hiding your light under a bushel. You are a beautiful, smart woman. It’s time to shine, Camryn.”

  Tears pool in my eyes as her words make me feel pretty for the first time.

  “None of that. Let’s get this makeup done.”

  “I’m not sure…”

  “Trust me. I won’t do anything you won’t like. I’m not going to turn you into a Kardashian.”

  Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly and steel my resolve. “Okay. Go for it,” I say, and she turns me, so I can’t see what she’s doing.

  Twenty minutes and a “Ta-da” later, I turn to see the damage, and my mouth gapes open. It’s me, only better. I was afraid she was going to contour and highlight until none of me was left, but she didn’t. It’s…well, perfect. My eyes look amazing, and the colors she used make them pop. My lips are full and pouty. Just a touch of color on my cheekbones add a little definition.

  “You like it?” she asks, tentative for the first time.

  “It’s…amazing.”

  The smile she bestows upon me would light up a room. “It’s all you, girl. I just added a little polish. You look gorgeous.”

  “Thank you. For everything.” I clasp her hand resting on my shoulder as our eyes meet in the mirror.

  “You’re more than welcome. Time to get dressed so we can head out and have a fun time tonight. I’m going to get changed and do some touch-ups to my hair and makeup,” she says while grabbing her bag and heading toward the bathroom. “Oh, and, Camryn,” she calls out, “sexy underwear.” She winks.

  “Why? Not like anyone’s going to see it.”

  “But you’ll know it’s there, and it’ll make you feel sexy. And when you feel sexy, that’s what radiates from you.”