by Fall, Lucy
It’s going to be fine. I can be an adult. Because I love him far too much to hurt him.
As I think the word “love,” there’s a prickling sensation in my chest. It’s only friendly love, I tell myself over and over again. That’s all.
* * *
“You’re glowing,” I tell Emme over lunch. “What’s going on? Did I miss your birthday or something?”
She beams with pride. “I just got my spring semester grades in yesterday. I aced all my classes. And I’m going to take a couple this summer and probably finish my degree in the fall.”
I give her a high five. “Holy shit, congrats! You’re on a roll.” I dig into my pasta salad. “We should go out tonight to celebrate. Margaritas at One Tequila?”
Her beaming smile turns to a low flush on her cheeks. Her mouth quirks. “Dane and I are going to dinner tonight, but maybe next week?” She pauses and sucks in a breath, dropping her hands to her lap. “We talked last night. He told me he thinks we should move in together at the end of the month.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
Her eyes brighten. “Excited. I mean, I spend most nights over there anyway. And when I’m not there, I just lie in bed missing him.” Her soft sigh makes my heart melt…and simultaneously pinch in envy. God, I want that.
A pair of warm, familiar dark eyes flash in my mind, and I blink away that thought. Nope. This is about her, not about me and Cole. “Sounds wonderful,” I say. “I’d love to have that too.”
She reaches over and strokes my forearm, her brow furrowing. “Hey, you okay? You seem…off lately. I keep meaning to ask you but I don’t want to pry. But I’m not being a good friend if I don’t let you know I’m concerned—and that I’m here for you.”
My throat tightens. Good friend. That’s the crux of my issue, isn’t it? How to go back to being a good friend when every single square inch of me, from my skin to my lungs to my stupid heart, wants more.
I exhale. Then I spill it all out—about the incidents with Cole, about my sister (glossing over our disastrous past; that’s still too hard to confess to anyone), about my confusing feelings. The whole time, she stays quiet, letting me blab on.
When I’m done, the silence stretches between us for a moment. At the tables around us in the lunchroom, people are laughing and talking and eating. I, on the other hand, feel like I just puked my guts up on our table.
Emme finally says in an even tone, “Wow. That’s a lot of stuff to happen in a week.”
I blow out a laugh. “Yeah, tell me about it. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know the right thing to tell Christina so she doesn’t hate me forever for what’s happened. Even if I tell her we’re just friends now, it’s gonna weigh between us, regardless if nothing happens with her and Cole.”
She leans forward. “Do you want to be just friends with him?”
I pause, swallow. Shake my head. It’s the truth, and I need to tell it to someone. Need to admit it to myself. I’m spending all this energy telling myself we should be just friends, but deep down I know I want more. I have to stop lying to myself about it. It’s probably crazy, and it might be suicide for our friendship, but the more time passes, the more I want to give it a shot. I don’t know how Cole feels, but I have a suspicion he might want the same thing. That this isn’t just physical for him.
Her face softens in sympathy. “What a hard spot for you. I’m sorry. Can I offer a bit of advice?”
“God, please. Yes.”
“It sounds like you really care about your sister and don’t want her to get hurt. But if you can’t help the way you feel about Cole, then you can’t help it. Christina’s happiness is important, of course, but it shouldn’t come before yours. And I think she’d expect that, especially if she cares about you too. It would probably hurt her to know you’re struggling this hard over the situation.”
“Yeah, probably,” I say. It’s too uncomfortable for me to face the reason why she still has justification to hang on to her bitterness toward me. The fact that she let it go and has worked on rebuilding a relationship with me…well, I don’t deserve it, but I’m grateful for it anyway. “I’m just scared that I’m going to screw things up with her.” And push her away for good.
“You’re not doing this to be cruel. Christina might be upset at first, but I think after she mulls it over, she’ll realize you care about her. That your feelings for him have nothing to do with her. It will all work out,” Emme adds quietly. “I promise.”
During this conversation, my stomach has tightened into a knot a sailor would envy. God, I hope she’s right. But only Sunday will tell.
Cole
“You have met me before, right?” Lauren’s face has gone ghostly pale, and she’s staring at the old wooden sign outside of the brick building. “You do remember I’m petrified of heights. I didn’t think that was a big mystery or anything.” A breeze catches her hair and sends a few errant strands that came out of her braid across her face. She brushes them back.
“It’ll be fun. You’re completely strapped in, and we have two guides working with us to ensure our safety. They check the equipment and lines every morning, without fail.” I keep my voice low and soothing as I cup her elbow and lead her inside. “Trust me.”
“I trust you,” she mutters. “But I also don’t like falling to certain death.”
I roll my eyes. “Stop being a chicken. It’s going to be great. You’ll see.”
The zipline tour we’re about to do starts soon, and we’re supposed to get safety lessons before we even ride up to the first zipline station. I’ve done ziplining a few times now; it’s exhilarating, a way to get that adrenaline rush without doing something fucking stupid. I have a feeling once she gets up there and goes flying across the canopy, she’s going to love it.
Lauren, however, seems to disagree with me. But to her credit, she’s slogging along at my side, though her mouth is pinched so thin I doubt a sheet of paper could slip through. That’s my girl, stubborn as hell even in the face of fear.
I called in a favor with a friend of a friend to get us a semi-private ziplining session. Three hours of soaring over trees, rappelling, and hiking. So fucking awesome. It’s me and Lauren, two of the employees, and another couple who just got married and are on their honeymoon. That’s not going to be awkward or anything. But beggars can’t be choosers, and they’re doing me a favor. Hopefully Lauren will relax and enjoy the experience. I suspect underneath that façade of hers is a heart that aches to try something a little more dangerous.
I check us in. The other couple is already there, a husky light-skinned black man and slender dark woman who haven’t stopped holding hands since I spotted them. The smiles on their faces are big as they sneak glances at each other, like they still can’t believe they’re married. Their wedding rings glint in the fluorescent light.
Fuck. I want that. So much. I want Lauren to wear my ring, to hold my hand. Maybe this wasn’t my best idea after all. I know we’re strictly here in friendship mode, and while it makes me want to take a header off a cliff, I also know I can’t push her too fast or she’ll run from me again.
We line up by the harnesses, which are stretched out on the floor, ready for us to step in. Our instructors can’t be older than twenty-one; the black-haired girl, Veronica, has a nose ring, and the blond guy, Dexter, has artfully mussed hair.
They do the introductions and ask our names. The other couple is Martin and Sharon. Lauren keeps glancing over at them, an unreadable expression on her face.
“You’re going to have so much fun out there,” Veronica starts. She goes into her spiel about how the safety equipment works. We pick out gloves, get into our harnesses, and don hats. Then we head to a minivan with three rows of seats and are driven through the woods up a winding path.
It’s a beautiful spring afternoon. I breathe the air from my rolled-down window in deeply and reach over to cup Lauren’s knee. Her hand flies out to grip mine.
“You’re sure this wil
l be safe?” she whispers by my ear.
“I won’t let you fall,” I vow. I tuck a lock of red hair behind her ear.
Her gaze flicks to my mouth, then back up, a look so fast I almost miss it. I see the curves of her cheeks turn pink, and she pastes on a big, tremulous smile. But the pulse at the base of her throat throbs in an erratic beat.
Nervousness? Or desire? Or maybe both? I can’t tell. I should stop looking, because it’s clear she wants space. Her first text to me when I asked her to come with me today made it clear she was initially torn. But something made her say yes, with enthusiasm. I don’t know why, but I hope she holds on to that excitement.
Because I’ve been aching for her for days. Dad’s house is so fucking quiet, and I’ve been spending extra time at the bar just so I’m not sitting there alone. Crawling around in my own skull, thinking about things I don’t want to.
Our ride turns and wends along the path. As we dart back and forth, Lauren slides closer and closer to me until our thighs are pressed together. The couple behind us is murmuring to each other, and our tour guides are talking among themselves too.
“How was your week?” I ask Lauren to help get her mind off her fear.
“Not bad. I think we’re picking up a new client—small, but they have a lot of connections that could lead to future projects for us.” Enthusiasm bleeds into her voice; the distraction is working. “Dane put me on lead to pursue them, and I’ve been coming in early to get initial specs drafted.”
“That’s great.” I grin at her and fight the urge to stroke her knee. I keep my hand warm and friendly. But her skin is so damn soft, so tempting. Ugh.
“Are you going to keep working at the bar?” she asks me. “Or are you going to find something else to do? Like more construction work?”
“I’ll probably work at the bar for a while.” We bank right and she leans into me, and I close my eyes for a moment and let myself smell the fruity scent of her perfume. “After that, I’m going to go to school.”
“Really?” Lauren perks up. “What do you want to study?”
My cheeks burn. I wasn’t expecting to discuss this with her right now. But she’s not freaking out about our pending adventure, so I push myself out of my comfort zone too. “Kinda interested in automobile engineering. Got to tinker around with the trucks when I was deployed and really enjoyed it.”
“You are very handy,” she says. “You’d do great at it.” The sheer warmth and support in her voice makes me want to hug her and kiss her and fuck her all at the same time. God, this woman brings out everything in me, and sometimes it’s scarier than I even acknowledge to myself.
She holds the power to hurt me more than anyone else in this world. Not even sure she knows she does. Which just makes her hold over me even stronger. Lauren has no idea how amazing she is, how much deeper I fall in love with her every fucking day.
Her hand slides over to rest on top of mine, and she squeezes. A blissful warmth spreads from my fingers up my arm, right to my chest.
The minivan pulls into a spot and stops. There’s a stretch of rope line for us to practice on to get used to the movements. We take turns, with Veronica attaching our harness to the rope and Dexter at the other end to show us how to move forward and backward. I’ve done it before, so it’s no biggie.
Lauren’s hands only shake a little. It takes some coaxing to get her to step off the stump and glide, but once she does, she grins, moves back and forth along the zipline with her hands.
After the guides deem us ready to go, we hike to our first spot. Martin keeps his hand on Sharon’s back.
Lauren leans toward me. “They’re cute, aren’t they?”
I nod. “Fun way to spend your honeymoon.”
“I can think of more fun ways,” she says in a droll tone, and I bark a laugh.
“Bad girl.” I reach down and squeeze her hand on impulse.
She grins and presses a kiss to my cheek. It’s fast and far too fleeting, but I savor the feeling. “I’m so nervous I might throw up,” she confesses to me quietly.
I tug her close and hug her to me, kiss her forehead. Something I’ve been doing for a long time as her friend. “It’s going to be great. One of the guides will be at the other end of the line to make sure you get there okay.”
Martin goes first, after Dexter. The line isn’t that long, a quickie to get the newbies acclimated to the feeling of ziplining. Still, he gives a hearty whoop, and Sharon laughs as he soars across the line to the other side to meet Dexter. Sharon follows.
“Want me to go next?” I ask her.
She lifts her chin. “No, I’ll do it.”
I stroke her cheek then drop my hand before I do something stupid like kiss her. “Kick ass, kitten. You got this.”
Veronica gets Lauren’s harness strapped in. Lauren takes a long moment to stare across the canopy. We’re not that high up, with trees thrusting all around us, but high enough that a fall would hurt like a motherfucker and end in broken bones, if not worse. I know she’s thinking about that. But she sucks in a loud breath and pushes off the edge, and her scream of initial panic fills the entire woods.
My stomach lurches, and I take an instinctive step toward her.
Then I hear Lauren erupt into a wild laugh. “Oh my God!” she cries out. “This is crazy!” Her feet hit the other side, and even from here I can see her shaking all over and cackling like a crazy woman as Dexter unstraps her from the line. She pumps her fists in the air and turns back to look at me. “Hurry up, pokey!” she calls out.
The broad smile on my face as I soar to the other side isn’t from elation at the zipline.
* * *
The three hours of our tour go by way too fast. Once Lauren gets over her initial fright of ziplining, she’s into it like a boss. She even leans back and planks on one of the lines, squealing with glee as she stares straight up at the sky. However, she isn’t a fan of rappelling, clutching her rope and squinting her eyes closed the entire time. At least she gives it a try, though.
Martin and Sharon also have fun—in between numerous moments of making out. The two are constantly touching each other, the way newlyweds do like they’re trying to convince themselves that their life is real and not a dream, to the point where even our tour guides are teasing them about being inseparable. I’m happy for the couple, of course, but it does make things a little awkward for me, being around Lauren.
During our tour, I find myself manufacturing excuses to touch Lauren every time I can—adjusting her hat or harness, helping her over rough terrain, balancing her while she gets strapped into the zipline. Given the way she leans into my touch, turn to me for security and safety, she doesn’t seem to mind.
That damn hope resurfaces in my chest again. Lauren might not realize how she feels about me, but I suspect it’s more than just friendship, or sex. I can’t be reading into these signs. Right?
The last zipline is the longest of all, a trek across the top of a massive valley. The late spring blooms mean the trees below us are green and wild, and I savor the sensation of the wind whipping in my face, going over fifty miles an hour as I fly to the other side of the line. Lauren’s already waiting there for me, clapping in glee. She gives me a high five, her cheeks bright red from the sun and wind and her own rush of giddiness.
We walk to the minivan and ride back to the building, weaving down the narrow dirt road through the woods. Lauren’s leaning against me, no hesitation, no pause. She’s completely relaxed, high on endorphins from the rush of what we just did.
“So you had a good time?” I ask as I drape my arm around her shoulders, urge her into my side.
She looks up at me. “Surprisingly, yes. A great time. I had no idea I’d enjoy it that much. I totally want to do it again.”
“How about skydiving next time?” I tease her. “I know a guy…”
“Hell no.” She pulls a face. “I’ll cheer you on from the ground.”
I lean close to her and peer into her eyes. “Never sa
y never. I got you here. I bet I can get you in a plane with me. There’s nothing that compares to the sensation of free-falling.”
“Nothing?” she blurts out, and then bites her lip. She gives an awkward chuckle.
I smile widely and lean closer until our mouths are inches apart. I won’t kiss her, but I want her to be aware of me. To associate me with the wild rush of letting go, having fun. “Almost nothing.” Then I deftly change the subject to keep her on her toes and not let her dwell too much on where that line of thought can lead. “Xander’s son’s birthday party is in a couple of weeks. Do you want to go?”
She blinks. “Oh, wow, okay. How old will he be?”
“Three. I can hardly believe it.” I saw him yesterday when he came by the bar with his mom. He toddled right over to me and hugged my leg, and I think my heart exploded from all the emotions I felt. Then Xander gave me a knowing smirk, and I slugged him in the arm, which made him cry out loud.
“I’d love to go,” Lauren murmurs.
The minivan rolls to a stop, and we return all the equipment. I don’t want our time together to be over yet, so after we say our goodbyes and thanks, and make our way to my truck, I say with a casual glance at my watch, “I’m in the mood for something to eat. You hungry?”
There’s only a slight pause, like she’s weighing what to do. Before frustration can settle into my chest, or I can say something like “It’s only food, Lauren, don’t second-guess everything,” she says, “That would be great. I’m starving.”
The sincerity in her words, and the fact that she wants to be around me too, makes me feel like I walk on air.
Lauren
I take a bite of my cheeseburger and groan with pleasure, closing my eyes and chewing as slowly as I can to taste all the flavors. “This is the best burger I’ve ever had in my life.” I’m ravenous, probably from my nerves being on edge for like three hours straight while we ziplined. “I feel like I could eat an entire cow.”