Fall Into Love

by Melody Anne

  “Not yet. I have my American Lit exam in a couple hours, so I need to focus on that first, but I’m going to fix this once I’m done. I haven’t quite figured out how, but I think it involves an insane amount of text messages and awkward groveling.”

  “That sounds like heaps of fun.”

  “Hopefully it’ll be worth it.” I walked to the closet and began pulling sweaters from the hangers. “Now, help me figure out what to wear.”

  The Intro to American Lit exam took place in one of the larger halls, and I secured a spot on the aisle so I could leave the moment I was done. I glanced at the clock. I’d texted Gavin and asked him to meet me in the parking lot in two hours. He hadn’t replied yet, so I could only hope he was busy and hadn’t seen the message, as opposed to outright ignoring me. I said a little prayer to whoever watched over hot actors and begged them to get him there by the time the exam ended.

  I tapped my pen against my leg as we waited for the TA to hand out the papers. Much to Duncan’s pleasure, I’d nailed my last essay, and my success or failure in the course wouldn’t be determined by this exam, but anxiousness still chewed away at my stomach like ants on a rotten apple. The students around me shifted and pointed at something and I followed their gazes to the back of the room.

  A one-handed cowboy occupied most of the doorway.

  Duncan had exempted Clint from the final exam, but I wasn’t surprised to see him here. The cowboy wasn’t one to take the easy way out.

  I shifted one seat over and waved for him to join me. His stump was still bandaged, but his face was now fully visible. Angry pink and white scars surrounded his right eye and cheek. He moved slowly, as though every step took a staggering amount of energy. He leaned on a cane with his good hand.

  Clint settled into the seat beside me and grinned. “Well, darlin’, looks like we made it to the end.”

  “Looks like,” I said. “I can’t believe you came. Do you need a lift somewhere after?”

  He shook his head. His hat sat crooked, angled above his scars. “Naw, Regina’s gotten real good at drivin’ my truck. She’s comin’ to get me and we’re headin’ to the diner. I can’t tell ya how happy I am to be out of the hospital. One more day of mushy peas and hamburger disguised as steak, and I was gonna jump out the window. I’m lookin’ forward to some good ol’ greasy eats.”

  I laughed as a pile of papers landed on my desk. The TA gave me a stern look and I ducked my head.

  Clint waved his hand over my exam.

  “What?” I hissed. “Now that you’re here, we both still have to write this.”

  “Oh, I know,” he said. “But would you by any chance have a pen?”

  “That sounds like a horrible pickup line to me.”

  “It is.” He grinned. “I tried it on this girl once and it didn’t work. Thank goodness. I think we were both destined for other people.”

  “Me too,” I said. I lowered my chin onto my upturned palm. Well, Clint certainly belonged with someone else. My future in that area remained to be seen.

  “So, the pen?”

  “Right.”

  I tossed him one of my extra pens and he flipped over his exam, resting the stump of his hand on the table.

  I risked a look around the classroom. Not a single person stared or gave Clint a second glance. Perhaps he was right.

  It really wasn’t his problem.

  • • •

  I finished the exam in record time and waved good-bye to Clint, who still bent over his paper. As I left the room, I fished out my cell phone and my heart sank when I saw I had zero messages.

  Someone grabbed my arm as I was about to exit the building. I grinned when I saw who it was. “Duncan!”

  “You got my name right for once. It only took the whole semester.”

  I laughed. “Yeah. It still feels weird to say, but I guess I’ll get used to it. After all, I signed up for your class again next semester. American Lit: The Second Coming. Love the course title, by the way.”

  “Wonderful. I can’t wait to read more of your writing. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that, while I don’t think I’m your target audience, I thoroughly enjoyed the Viking Moon series.”

  Heat radiated up my body and I took a step back. “You read them?”

  “Every single one. When can we expect the next one?”

  I thought back to the e-mail I’d sent that morning. “It’s been written, but whether they’ll still want to release it will be up to the publisher. I came clean to my agent this morning.” I was actually shocked I hadn’t heard from her already with one of her usual long-winded text messages or e-mails. I wasn’t sure whether that was a good or a bad thing.

  “Good for you. And, like I told you before, a good book is a good book. Who knows, perhaps we’ll be side by side on the new release shelf.” He winked.

  “Does this mean you finished your new book?”

  “Sent it off a few days ago,” he said. “I actually want to thank you, Elise. You’ve been a great source of inspiration.”

  I took a step back. “Me? Inspire you?”

  “Yes.” He reached into his briefcase. “In fact, I have a favor to ask. When I visited my daughter over Thanksgiving, I mentioned you to her. As it turns out, she’s a big fan of your books. She asked if I might get you to sign this. What do you say?”

  Duncan handed me a battered copy of the first Viking Moon. The cover was slightly torn, and the corners were ridged where they had been bent to mark pages over the years. I opened it to the title page, and grinned when I saw the girly script of a teenager in the top corner. Property of Carolyn Creed. Duncan held a pen out to me.

  I bent over the book and placed the pen to the page. Then I stopped. Duncan tapped my wrist and I glanced up. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. “I just realized this is the first time I’ve ever signed a copy of my own book. For so long, I pretended someone else wrote them. I’m not even sure what my signature should look like.”

  He beamed. “My daughter will be ecstatic to know she has the first signed copy in history. Take your time. This is an important moment.”

  I inhaled deeply, then began to write:

  Dear Carolyn,

  Thank you for being a fan and for believing in me. Your father is an inspiration. Without him and his work, this book would not exist. He taught me I could follow my dreams. Let him teach you the same.

  Much love,

  Aubrey Lynch

  I handed the book back to Duncan, and he scanned the note. His eyes misted behind his glasses, and he dabbed at his face with his sleeve.

  “Too much?” I asked. “I’ve never done that before.”

  “It’s perfect,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you. For everything. Your daughter is lucky to have you.” I glanced at my phone. “I have to go, though. There’s someone I hope to be meeting in a few minutes.”

  “Of course.” He pulled me into a gentle hug before stepping back and looking into my eyes. “Have a good Christmas break, Elise. I hope you get everything you ask for. You deserve it.”

  I nodded and left the warmth of him and the building, giving one last glance at my phone. Still no messages from Gavin. Crap. He wasn’t coming. Dragging my feet through the snow, I wrapped my arms around myself and wandered to the parking lot, just in case.

  I almost slipped on a patch of ice when I spotted a familiar Porsche near the exit. Gavin lounged against the car, hands shoved in a dark coat, a gray scarf slung around his neck. Students stopped in their tracks when they saw him. A few girls pointed. One looked green and close to barfing or fainting or both. I knew how she felt.

  Gavin hadn’t seen me yet. He was firmly engrossed in his phone, brows furrowed in the way that made my heart stagger around my chest like a drunken old woman.

  “You came,” I said.

  He looked up from his phone and the corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. A group of students loaded down with books and back
packs halted and ogled us.

  “I wanted to know what happened,” he said. “I at least deserve that.”

  A few girls added themselves to the onlookers and I shifted from one foot to the other.

  I’m an idiot is what happened. I signed instead of speaking to give us some semblance of privacy in the crowding parking lot.

  What do you mean? he signed back.

  There was a photo of you and Leila kissing. I panicked.

  That meant nothing.

  I know, I signed. She explained. I was just scared.

  Scared of what?

  You.

  Me?

  Yes, I signed. But mostly the attention you get. And the attention I would get if I was with you.

  I understand. He let out a breath and a cloud of white fluffed around his head.

  There was a horde of students around us now, their faces scrunched as they analyzed our silent exchange. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a girl taking pictures with her phone. So it looked like I was doing this in front of the whole world. Perfect.

  And now? Gavin signed. Are you still scared?

  Yes, I admitted. But sometimes you have to do what scares you to learn it’s not so scary after all.

  What do you plan to do?

  I stepped toward him, closing the gap between us, and pulled his hands around my waist.

  “This,” I said out loud.

  Standing on my tiptoes, I inclined my head and brushed his lips with mine.

  He started and eyed the onlookers circled around us, some already excitedly tapping into their phones. “Everyone is watching.”

  “So what?” I asked, pulling him closer. “Let them.”

  • • •

  We didn’t leave Gavin’s hotel room for three days, getting dressed only to receive room service. The giant bed became our refuge, and we snuggled under the covers, laughing, sleeping, and exploring each other.

  I lay on Gavin’s chest, my fingers examining his torso as he slept, still trying to convince myself he was real and he was with me.

  I’d seen the proof online. The one time we’d broken from our activities to check our e-mail, I’d almost dropped my phone when I saw I had hundreds of Facebook notifications. Everyone wanted to know about the photos of us kissing in the school parking lot. People who’d barely given me a second glance in high school had sent me messages asking if I wanted to go for coffee and “catch up.” I’d deleted them all without replying and returned to Gavin’s arms and mouth.

  My phone blinked again on the end table and I sighed. I shifted over his sleeping form and reached to turn off the thing once and for all. But before I did, I eyed the VIP e-mail notification. My agent. She’d finally replied to me regarding my new book and confession. My finger trembled as I touched the screen to open her message.

  Hi Elise!

  So good to finally hear from you! I was getting worried. Thank you for the draft of the new VM! I’ve already finished it. I couldn’t put it down! It really is a wonderful end to the series. I have to admit, I was surprised at your decision to have Dag lose his hand, but then I understood. The only way Thora would forgive him for the death of her brother was if he also lost something precious. The scene where she teaches him to fight with his other hand is stunning. Funny and sweet. I wasn’t sure if you’d give these books a happy ending. You once told me you weren’t sure love existed. I can’t help but wonder what has happened to change your mind, because the ending made me positively giddy!

  I grinned and shimmied up against Gavin, letting his body warm me as I continued to read.

  As for the other part of your e-mail . . . I have to say I’m a little flummoxed you felt the need to lie to me all these years. We could’ve protected your identity if it was so important to you. I’m happy you want to reveal the truth for this last book. I talked to your editor, and she feels the same way. We shall have to have a meeting or two with your publicist and come to some sort of solution. Is there any way you can get to New York over your school’s winter break?

  Whatever happens, you’ve written a great series with a fantastic ending. In the end, I think your fans can forgive a crisis of image. Let me know when we can chat further.

  Best,

  Steph

  I exhaled and sagged against Gavin. He shifted beneath me and opened his eyes. His fingers were soft and warm as he touched my cheek.

  Studying me for a moment, he began to sign, Everything okay, E-l—

  I covered his hand with my own, stopping him from finger-spelling my name. Forming my right hand into an e, I traced down my scar, no longer feeling shame at the sign name I’d been given so many years ago. I knew now it was a symbol of my strength, not my weakness. It proved I had survived the impossible, and I could do it again.

  Getting there, I signed. I’m hoping it will be. What do you think about a trip to New York after you’re done filming?

  New York? His eyes gleamed. You sure you’re ready for the big city?

  I pressed my chin into his chest and nuzzled him in the way I knew drove him crazy. He shuddered and I gave him my most innocent smile and propped myself up enough to sign, If I’m not ready now, when will I ever be? Besides, I can finally introduce you to my best friend, Jin. But be warned, he might attack you.

  Nothing I haven’t endured before.

  I clucked my tongue and began to trail kisses down his chest. “Oh, really? Well, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to be the only one mauling you from now on, okay?”

  Running my tongue over the rise and fall of his phenomenal abs, I warmed as his stomach muscles contracted with the sharp hitch of his breath. He gripped my shoulders and slid me higher so our chests met.

  “That promise works both ways.”

  “You know,” I said, winding my fingers through his hair and pulling his face close to mine, “if you’re going to be the only man I let maul me from now on, I’m going to need a demonstration to prove it’s worth it.”

  His tongue slid out of his mouth and licked his bottom lip. My body buzzed at the sight and I squirmed above him. “Is that a challenge, Elise Jameson?”

  “Only if you think you’re up for it, Gavin Hartley.”

  He didn’t answer. His mouth became too distracted as it crashed into mine. He rolled me onto my back and pressed his lips against my collarbone. Then he moved lower and I whimpered, digging my fingernails into his back.

  He grinned at me over my stomach; a wicked smirk that made my insides somersault as he signed, Challenge accepted.

  “Holy crap, Reg, I’m nervous. What if I barf on everyone?”

  “Well, that would certainly make a statement, but I’m pretty sure no one would come to another one of your book signings.”

  “Right. So, no barfing, then.”

  “No barfing.”

  I peeked around the door of the staff room in the back of Bookworm and swallowed. People of all ages packed the metal chairs placed in rows among the young adult books. Others sat cross-legged on the carpet in the front, or leaned against the bookshelves wherever they could find a space. Some familiar faces mingled with the strangers. Jin and Zach sat with my parents in the second row. Duncan Creed stood by a rack of popular vampire novels, surveying the crowd and pressing his glasses up his nose. Clint’s unmistakable signature hat might as well have been a blinking arrow to him in the middle of the back row. Sweat trickled behind my head and down my neck, and I took a shallow breath.

  It was hard to believe it had been a little more than a year since I’d last come to this store, lining up with Jin for a book I’d written but refused to take credit for. So much had happened. I’d come clean about who I was to the world. Reggie and I had moved to a basement apartment off-campus. Gavin had finished filming the first season of the show, and we’d actually been managing the long-distance thing okay. He couldn’t be here today, because he was off in China doing promos for the show, which would air in September—exactly one month away. But we’d spoken that morning (his night), a
nd he’d told me he was proud of me.

  So, basically, my life had done a complete 180 in 365.

  And now, I was about to make my first real public appearance since revealing my identity to the world. In a few minutes, I’d stand in front of all these people and read an excerpt from the final Viking Moon book before signing copies. Well, assuming I didn’t barf on them first.

  Reggie touched my arm, jolting my gaze away from the crowd. “Elise, you got this. Remember, they’re here for you.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” I said, shutting the door and leaning my shoulders against the cool metal. “What if they’re mad? What if they hate me for deceiving them all these years?”

  “If they were angry, you’d already know.” Reggie led me to a plastic chair and I eased down on shaking legs. She sat in the padded desk chair across from me. “Your readers have nothing to be angry with you for. Besides, you’re giving them an amazing book.”

  She placed a hardback in my lap and I ran my fingers over the cover. The final Viking Moon book had the same theme on the cover as the rest of the series. Dag and Thora, drawn almost to life. She stood in front of him, her sword at the ready. He had both feet apart and a hand on her shoulder. He held no weapon and didn’t look at the reader. He looked only at her.

  My hands trembled as I flipped to the back page.

  Reggie touched my wrist to get my attention. “You look beautiful.”

  The author photo was one Gavin had taken when we were out walking by the lake one day. My focus lay on him behind the camera, laughter playing in my eyes, mouth lifting into the smallest of smiles. A breeze captured my hair and pulled it behind my head, like one of those models in the reality shows.

  The picture was a favorite of mine and I’d asked Gavin if I could use it. I’d purposely picked one where no part of my face lay hidden and my confidence gleamed through the lens, even as the white of my scar sliced down my cheek.

  My belly flip-flopped harder at the memory of the last time I’d seen Gavin in person. It had been at least two months since he’d been able to visit. I sighed, my body aching for his warmth and hands to soothe my nerves.