If I Fall

by Anna Cruise

  My pulse quickened at the memory, of her angry face as I opened the door that night after coming home from the hospital, of the anger morphing to shock and concern as I stepped back and helped Case through the front door, his face bandaged and stitched up. He'd stayed with us that night, and the next day, recuperating. And I'd told Sara everything—not just about that night but about the last few months. I'd spit it all out, every gory detail, desperate for someone else to know. Just like Case, she hadn't judged and she hadn't preached. She'd just gathered me in her arms and held me as we both cried. Together.

  “Are you going to graduation tomorrow?” Case asked.

  My response was quick. “No.”

  He nodded. “Good. No reason for you to be there. To see any of them.”

  I was in complete agreement. I hadn't spoken a word to Aidan since that night at the beach, nor to Scotty or Dez or any of the other people I'd once called my friends. The only one I had talked to was Lauren. She'd spent the night in the hospital but was back at school a few days later. Pale, a little shaken, but otherwise back to normal. I didn't talk to her at lunch—she was with Aidan and the others and I avoided them at all costs.

  But I saw her as I was leaving English. Standing in the hallway by her locker, fiddling with her backpack. I walked up behind her and cleared my throat.

  She turned and her eyes clouded with suspicion. “What?”

  I took a deep breath. “I just wanted to tell you that I'm glad you're OK.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Really? You expect me to believe that? After I fucked your boyfriend?”

  “He's not my boyfriend and I don't think he ever was,” I said. “So, yeah. I do. Because it's the truth.” I looked at her and smiled. “I'm glad you're OK.”

  She shook her head and lowered her sunglasses, covering her eyes. “Whatever.”

  I didn't need anything from her. I just wanted her to know. Because I was glad that she was alright. There was no feel good ending where everyone apologized and we all ended up being friends. Aidan still sneered at Case when he saw us and Case just laughed at him, shaking his head. While he was always aware of him, Case didn't spend a second worrying about him. He wasn't afraid of him and if Aidan ever tried anything again, I was pretty sure Case would be ready for him.

  So things weren't tied up with a ribbon.

  Because that's not real life.

  “Hey.” Case's voice interrupted my thoughts and I looked up from the table. “You don't need to be there.”

  “I know,” I said, a smile finding its way to my lips. “I really do know that.”

  He covered his hand with mine and squeezed and I felt the butterflies in my stomach. He didn't touch me often—he was taking his time, being careful, not asking for too much—but every time he did, I felt my body—and heart—respond.

  “Good,” he half-whispered. “They're in the past, Meg. Remember that.”

  I nodded. Aidan and Lauren and all of the things they represented were part of my past. A past I was more than happy to leave behind.

  Especially because I knew Case was part of my future.

  xoxo.

  ABOUT ANNA

  Anna Cruise has been writing and drooling over boys since middle school. Lots of years have passed but some things never change...

  IF I FALL is her second novel.

  You can find Anna on Twitter and Facebook and you can follow her blog.

  Keep reading for an excerpt of IT WAS YOU and her newest New Adult title, scheduled for a May 2013 release.

  IT WAS YOU (excerpt)

  ONE

  The music was too loud, the boys were too obnoxious and there was too much vodka coursing through my body.

  I leaned against the wooden railing that led upstairs, trying to both steady myself and focus my vision. The house, a two-story stucco perched on a cliff overlooking the Pacific, belonged to Adam Mularkey. Well, Adam Mularkey's parents. But with a pilot for a dad and a mom who liked to tag along on his trips around the world, they weren't around much to call it home. But my senior class did. It was the go-to party place and, more often than not, there were keggers two or three weekends a month.

  This party was different, though.

  It was the last week of summer.

  Last chance to get drunk, get stupid and hook up.

  Not my normal scene, but I was celebrating. I was moving out of the house, ready to start college. I was moving in to my dorm and away from sister.

  My twin sister who was somewhere in this house on the cliffs above the beach, doing who knew what. My twin sister who looked exactly like me, even down to the tiny mole above our breasts. My twin sister who I couldn’t stand the sight of.

  Annika.

  We might be headed to the same college, but at least I wouldn’t be sharing space with her.

  Good freaking riddance.

  Two girls stumbled past me, one holding up her bikini top as some guy trailed behind her, desperately trying to untie it. Her hair was slicked back and the smell of chlorine assaulted my nostrils as they maneuvered past me. I wondered if they'd been in the pool out back or the hot tub tucked closer to the house. Both girls giggled loudly as they rounded the corner and the guy turned around and winked at me as he followed them, filled with the drunken confidence he’d get that top off. And probably a hell of a lot more.

  I scanned the room in front of me. More drunk teenagers than I could count. Couples sprawled on couches and backed up against corners. A group of guys—half the basketball team, it looked like—at the dining room table, a half-full bottle of tequila being passed between them. A girl I didn't know standing on the walnut-stained coffee table, gyrating her hips, her thumbs hitched on the spaghetti straps of her white cami, looking like she was debating whether or not to strip it off. A couple of guys catcalled in her direction, urging her on and she smiled, lowering a strap.

  I closed my eyes briefly. I couldn’t remember the term from senior English. Hedonistic? That sounded right. That’s what was going on at Adam Mularkey’s beach house the last night of summer.

  My equilibrium settled and Tana waved at me from across the room, then wove her way through the crowd in my direction.

  “Have you seen him?” she asked, her brown eyes bloodshot. Her breath reeked of tequila and I wondered if she'd sat in with the basketball team for a couple of rounds.

  I looked away from her. “Seen who?”

  She frowned at me and linked her arm with mine. “Duh. Kevin.”

  When I didn't respond right away, she stepped in front of me and narrowed her eyes. “Kevin. Kevin Swigert. Have you had so much to drink that you've forgotten you totally have the hots for him?”

  I knew who she meant the first time. “Shut up,” I told her. “Besides, I don’t think he’s here.”

  “Oh, he’s here,” she said, grinning. “You need to find him, Abby.”

  My tongue felt thick and I was having a hard time forming words with multiple syllables. “He’s not interested.”

  She leaned into my ear and her blond tresses tickled my cheek. “Last night of summer. He’s leaving for school in Minnesota. You have nothing to lose.” She held her hand up and made a circle with her hands. “Zero.”

  I didn't want to smile but I did. I’d had a crush on Kevin Swigert for about a year. Tall. Blond hair. Green eyes. Lacrosse player. A chest to die for. We shared history class together. Tana had been hounding me for months to throw myself at him.

  But we were friends. Nothing more. I couldn’t flirt to save my life, especially with someone as deliciously hot as Kevin. That was one area where my twin and I were decidedly not identical. Annika was a professional where guys were concerned. Fortunately, she’d never shown any interest in Kevin or he probably would have tripped over himself, lining up for her like the rest of the guys in high school.

  All of whom she promptly ate up and spit out.

  I shook my head, erasing the image of my sister.

  “Abby, come on,” Tana said, leaning against
my shoulder, more to keep her balance than to be close to me. “If he says no, he says no.”

  “Says no to what?”

  She grinned devilishly. “To whatever you offer him.”

  “I’m not Annika, Tana,” I said. “I’m not gonna go do him in a closet.”

  Tana raised an eyebrow. “She’s done guys in closets?”

  I rolled my eyes. Annika was capable of nearly anything. I was pretty sure that sex in a closet was absolutely already on her been there, done that list.

  Not on mine, though.

  “Look,” Tana said, putting her hand on my shoulder. “It’s now or never. And if he shoots you down, he’s long gone and you’re off to bigger and better things. And if he doesn’t…”A tequila-fueled smile creased her face.

  I stood there for a minute, thinking. Or, trying to think. The vodka had made everything fuzzy, like I was looking—and thinking—with a soft filter in front of my eyes and firmly planted inside my brain.

  Maybe my best friend was right, I thought. I'd said something to her the day before about how I was going to be brave, that I wanted to take some risks. She'd pressed for details but I didn't have any to share. I'd been antsy about graduation, ready to move on to the next chapter in my life. I didn't have specific feats of bravery I wanted to attempt, like jumping out of a plane or training killer whales at Sea World. I was just ready for things to be different.

  And then, later, when we'd walked by Kevin in the hallway, I'd smirked and told her—for the millionth time—that I wanted to make out with him.

  Maybe a little more.

  “I’ll go find him,” I said.

  Tana squealed like a mouse and started jumping up and down. “I want a full report. FULL.”

  I was pretty sure the only thing I'd be able to report was a crash and burn but I nodded as I moved away from her. I straightened my shirt and ran my hand through my hair and then quickly, before I could change my mind, I trudged up the stairs, my hand gripping the banister like a tightrope walker clutched their pole.

  As I walked, I tried to pump myself up. I’d straightened my wavy brown hair, silky smooth locks greeting me in the bathroom mirror when I'd finished. I’d spent an extra few minutes on my make-up, rimming my eyes with black eyeliner, brushing on an extra coat of mascara. I’d fished my wickedly short denim mini from the back of my closet and pulled on a black lace cami, my hot pink bra straps playing a seductive game of peekaboo. My silver sandals matched the silver polish on my toes. I knew I looked good. Better than good.

  I stopped at the top of the stairs, the vodka catching up to me again and spinning me just a little. Tana and I had grabbed the first two drinks we’d seen when we’d walked in. They'd tasted like pineapple juice and something else mixed with vodka. Mine had gone down easily and I'd grabbed another. And another. I thought about the tequila I'd smelled on Tana's breath. Somewhere along the line, she must’ve switched to margaritas. I couldn’t do tequila. I’d learned that the previous summer after one long sweat-soaked, vomit-filled night down in Tijuana.

  I touched the wall, placed my hand against it for balance. People were lined up on both sides of the hallway, some talking, some kissing, some groping. They were familiar in the same way that you recognized faces in the halls at school. Knew the faces but couldn't always assign names to them.

  Lauren Belfast stumbled toward me, using me to break her fall. I caught her and propped her up.

  “Hey Annika,” she slurred through half-opened eyes. She pushed her bangs off her forehead. “What’s up?”

  “I’m Abby,” I said, bristling and wishing I’d let her fall. “And I’m looking for Kevin.”

  “Oh, I’m sooo sorry Abby!” she said, her face breaking into a sorrowful expression. “You guys look sooo much alike. I always get mixed up.”

  I just nodded. Everyone mixed us up.

  “But I did just see Kevin,” she said, a grin crossing her freckled face.

  My heart raced. “Yeah?”

  She turned awkwardly in my arms. “Down the hall. That last door.”

  I spun slowly and propped her up in a vacant space along the wall. “Cool. Thanks.”

  She nodded, slowly sliding down the wall until she was on her ass. “You’re welcome.” She closed her eyes and her blond head slumped forward.

  I shook my head. I was drunk but I wasn't obliterated like half the crowd there. I said a silent prayer that I wouldn't be stepping out into a vomit-soaked hallway when I'd finished with Kevin.

  I shivered. Finished what with Kevin? I knew what I wanted to do. Slip my hands into his blond hair and pull him close and kiss him until we were both breathless. Feel his hands on my skin, feel his fingers squeezing my ass, feel his hardness press into me as we pushed up against a wall or fell on to a bed. I wanted him. Every little bit I could get.

  I saw the door at the end of the hall. It was closed and I knew what might be waiting for me. All I had to do was take the steps to get me there. I took a deep breath, ran my hands down my skirt.

  Now or never.

  I slid between the people in the hall, navigating the maze of bodies until I was at the door. It wasn't completely closed. The door was propped open a quarter of an inch. I could see a light on. But I couldn't see Kevin. My skin prickled in anticipation and, before I had time to talk myself out of it, I pushed the door wide open.

  A massive bathroom, bigger than my bedroom. White marble tile floors, a sink with one of those fancy basins that looked more like a piece of art than a functional piece of plumbing. A free-standing towel rack loaded with plush gray towels. A candle on the countertop was lit, the flame flickering oddly, the scent of sandalwood permeating the air.

  And Kevin.

  Kevin Swigert sat on the edge of a tall Jacuzzi bathtub. His shirt was unbuttoned, exposing the smooth expanse of skin I’d dreamed about touching. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed, and I noticed how incredibly dark and long his eyelashes were. His mouth was curved in the shape of an O before giving way to a smile of satisfaction. He moaned softly. In slow motion, my eyes traveled downward. His navy blue basketball shorts were around his ankles and a girl was on her knees, between his legs, her head moving back and forth slowly.

  My sister.

  Kevin’s eyes opened and when he saw me, he didn’t seem altogether there. His mouth twisted into a half grin. “Don't tell me you want some, too?”

  I leaned against the doorframe, the vodka threatening to work its way back up my throat. I tried to shake my head no, but I was frozen in place. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I couldn't do anything but stare in horror.

  Annika turned around. Her white cami was pushed up, her bra unclasped in the middle. Her skirt, denim like mine, was hitched nearly all the way to her waist and her lipstick was smeared at the corners of her mouth. She had one hand on Kevin's bare thigh and the other wrapped around his cock. I tried to look away but I couldn't. I just fixated on her hand, the hand that was still moving slowly up and down as she held him.

  “Abby.” My sister's voice was sharp.

  My hand slipped off the doorknob and I had to catch myself before I crashed into the door.

  I blinked.

  She smiled at me and there was nothing friendly about it. “You’re gonna have to wait your turn, Abs. I got here first.”

  TWO

  The room was spinning.

  Fast.

  I closed my eyes and pulled the sheets over my head, waiting for the room to hit the brakes. I hated carnival rides and this one felt like the Tilt-A-Whirl. On steroids.

  “No more vodka,” I croaked, my throat raw.

  No more any alcohol. Ever.

  I rolled over in the bed, on to my side. My head felt like a bowling ball. A bowling ball on a dinghy being tossed among twenty-foot waves. I squeezed my eyes shut. It didn't help with the nausea and it didn't help with blocking out the events from the previous night. Images came flooding back to me, crystal clear.

  Sprinting down the stairs. Grabbing tw
o red cups off the kitchen counter, cups that ended up being full of straight vodka. I’d hesitated only a second before deciding that getting fall-down drunk was the best way to burn the image of my sister blowing Kevin out of my mind. I’d downed both cups and I was pretty sure I’d grabbed another. But that was where my memory grew hazy. I vaguely remembered leaning on Tana as we walked home, sobbing loudly and puking into the gutter every block or so.

  A stellar last night of summer.

  I forced my eyes open, hoping the blinding morning light would burn the images out of my head. It did nothing except punish me as the rays streamed through my bedroom window. I shifted in the sheets, realizing I was still in my tank top and skirt. I kicked them off of me and sat up, steadying myself with my hands as the vodka took a hammer to my skull.

  I could see myself in the mirror that was attached to the vanity across the room. My hair was a rat’s nest and my mascara looked like something I’d seen baseball players put under their eyes. Some sort of Medusa-like raccoon.

  Ugh.

  I laid back down in the bed, grabbed my pillow and hugged it to my chest. As bad as I felt from the alcohol, it was Annika that nearly made me sick.

  It wasn’t that I cared about Kevin. I didn’t. Sure, he was some hot guy that I’d spent way too much time drooling over. For whatever reason, I'd put him up on some sort of imaginary pedestal, had decided that he was the one guy I most wanted to get with. And, if my slut of a sister hadn’t been with him last night, I very much would’ve liked to mess around with him.

  But, as usual, Annika was there. Where I wanted to be. And where I didn’t want her to be. Where I could’ve strangled her for once again making me feel small and inferior.

  She loved to be the center of attention. She loved that guys loved to look at her. And she loved to make sure I knew that, even though we were identical twins, guys preferred her over me. Always.

  This was nothing new with Annika. She'd started in on me in first grade, sidling up to the kids I'd made friends with, making sure she was teacher's pet and not me. It had only gotten worse as we’d grown older. Trying to steal my friends in middle school. Tana had always been immune but my other friends hadn't been so lucky. I thought about Michael Stratton, the first boy I ever had a crush on. Fifth grade. He sat in front of me in homeroom and, after months of daydreaming about him, I'd finally worked up the nerve to pass him a note in class. As soon as I'd tossed the note in his direction, Annika had innocently raised her hand and told Mrs. Wilson what I'd done. She'd retrieved the folded up scrap of notebook paper and read it out loud to the class. And everyone in our fifth grade class suddenly knew that I liked Michael Stratton and wanted him to come over for Popsicles. I'd turned the color of a tomato and Annika had just smiled in satisfaction.