Headfirst Falling

by Melissa Guinn

  He quickly obliges, leaving Devin and me alone. That was easy.

  “So what’s the deal?” I give him a flat look, pinning him with my eyes.

  He shifts beneath my gaze. “What do you mean?”

  “Devin.” My voice is stern, accusatory.

  His response comes quickly. “It’s not what it seems.”

  “I know it’s not. But I want to know what it is. You’re driving her crazy, which is in turn driving me crazy.” My eyes soften as I speak.

  He leans in and lowers his voice. “I’ve been keeping something from her. And you know how poorly I keep secrets.”

  I press him. “What’s the big secret?”

  His eyes dart to the bar where she’s standing before returning to mine. “You have to swear not to say a word, Charlie.”

  I promise solemnly. “I swear.”

  He really is nervous. I think he might even have beads of sweat on his brow. “I’m going to ask Taylor a question. A very, very serious question.”

  “A question? What kind of secret—” I snap my mouth shut as his words register. A serious question, of course! What else could it be? I stare at him, my mouth agape in pure astonishment. “You’re going to ask her to marry you?”

  “Shh!” he hisses, throwing his hand up to cover my mouth. “Do not tell anyone, Charlie. Please? I want to surprise her...when the time is right.”

  He drops his hand and a lopsided grin slips onto my face, because I’m already picturing Taylor in a wedding dress. It’ll be white, of course. And floor-length. My eyes follow Taylor as she makes her way back to the table, her face now openly scowling. “I won’t say anything. But you’d better either do it quick or pull your act together. The way you’re keeping your distance is starting to freak her out.”

  “I know, I know. My poker face sucks. I’ll get it together. I promise.”

  Taylor plops into the seat beside me and slides a drink across the table.

  I try to erase the silly grin from my face as I watch her.

  Her scowl deepens. “Stop looking at me like that, Charlie.”

  But I can’t. I’m too happy for her.

  * * *

  Devin’s rat terrier, Hank, stands at the front of the boat as it flies over the lake. His ears are flapping in the wind, and it makes me smile. Reaching over the railing’s edge, I let the droplets from beneath the boat spray my hand. Then I flick my fingers and send droplets in Jackson’s direction. He throws his head back, dodging them with boyish laughter. My heart melts.

  This indulgence doesn’t last long. I’m interrupted by the rude hello of what feels like a bucket of water to my face. I cough and choke as I spit the water back up. I’m still spluttering when I turn, furious. Taylor grins in her seat like a proud child. She leans over and brings another handful of water splashing onto the boat.

  “Taylor!” There’s water dripping down my face and my hair is drenched. Jackson is laughing so hard his face is red and he’s not making any noise. He reaches over and high-fives her. Rude!

  I rip my bag from beneath the seat where it’s stowed and withdraw my hairbrush. Then I brush the tangles from my soaked hair, glaring at Taylor the entire time. She beams back at me, and I contemplate flipping her the bird. But I decide against it, because as fast as my anger comes, it recedes. By the time Devin glides the boat into an open slip at the marina I’ve simmered down.

  I push Taylor from behind as she exits the boat.

  She stumbles onto the dock and chuckles. “Okay, I deserved that.”

  I grin and crawl out after her. “You did.”

  “Your hair looks cuter now,” she quips.

  I pluck the straw fedora from her head and set it on mine. “Much cuter.”

  We have lunch on the dock with Hank lazing in the sun nearby. Taylor and Devin are getting along better. They aren’t back to normal one hundred percent, but she’s not scowling or anything.

  Boats zoom back and forth in the distance beyond the buoys. Speedboats pull skiers, wakeboarders and kneeboarders daringly about. There are also bass boats, flat and fast, housing pairs of fishermen and their bait for the day. And then there are pontoon boats, big, slow and floating...barges meant for scores of partygoers. Watching them makes me feel like a kid again. My dad took Adam and I fishing all the time when we were young.

  After lunch I decide to browse the shore store. I go straight to the live bait, because that used to be my favorite part of fishing—getting bait. Only because I loved setting them free.

  I jump when a set of hands touch my shoulders. Then I smell him—Jackson. His hands drop away. “What are you looking at?”

  I point to the tank in front of me. It’s full of slimy salamander-like things. We called them water dogs as kids, and my dad always bought us a couple just to release in the lake later. “Water dogs.”

  Jackson studies me thoughtfully, and an uninvited heat creeps across my cheeks. He brushes his knuckles across my cheekbone and his eyes soften. Moments like these with him feel so intimate that I find myself stumbling through them, trying to keep my composure intact.

  I take a step back and almost bump into one of the aquariums. “We should be getting back to the boat.” I turn and head for the door. Jackson follows, catching my hand in his as we exit.

  Hank is already back at the front of the boat when we crawl in. Jackson takes a seat by me as we coast through the no-wake zone, lifting his arm so I can settle in beside him. I lean my head back and enjoy the ride as the boat picks up speed, and we glide across the water, flying.

  * * *

  I lounge on the back of the boat and bask in the warm rays from the sun above. It’s directly overhead and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. We dropped anchor in the part of the lake known as Fox Hollow. There’s a narrow opening between two massive rock formations and boats pour through all day. Once inside the hollow it’s customary to drop your anchor and float. We’ve tied our own boat to a long line of others. Somewhere in the mix a pontoon packed full of speakers is blasting music, and it echoes through the entire canyon. It smells like someone a few boats down is grilling steaks, and people are hopping from boat to boat. It’s a full-blown party scene.

  Taylor, Devin and Jackson are playing a game of beer pong with someone from the neighboring boat, each straddling a raft to stay afloat. The game isn’t a walk in the park on land, so in the water it’s next to impossible.

  Hank is floating close by on his raft, which is safely tied to Jackson’s. If Devin trusts the man with his dog, he must really trust him.

  When I can no longer stand the heat, I decide to cool off and step down to the platform extending from the back of the boat. A boat comes speeding through the opening of the hollow, creating waves. They rock the boat and water comes crashing onto the platform.

  “No-wake zone, jerk!” Taylor yells, stretching her hands out in an attempt to steady their floating game board.

  I close my eyes and dive off of the boat. The cool water is refreshing.

  When I resurface I hear someone say, “Why am I not surprised that you’re here?”

  I turn, not recognizing the breathy voice behind me. It’s Mary Jane, treading water a few feet away.

  I give her a tight-lipped smile. “MJ.”

  She smirks and comes a little closer. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  “What do you want?” I don’t have the patience for her today.

  She lowers her voice. “I want you to stay away from what’s mine.”

  “You appear to have me at a disadvantage,” I say, keeping my tone light. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She’s talking about Jackson. I know that, and I’m sure she knows I know that.

  “Cut the crap, Charlie.”

  “You don’t own him.” My words have a sharp edge to them, telling her
to back off.

  She smiles. “I think you’ll find that I do.”

  “As much as I would love to stay and entertain your delusions, I can’t.” I nudge my head in Jackson’s direction. “I’ve got better things to entertain.” Before she can say anything else, I swim away, making sure to splash her with a few kicks of my feet as I go.

  Chapter Twelve

  “What was that about?” Jackson asks, his eyes wary.

  I sit on the platform off the back of the boat, my legs dangling in the water. I shrug. “Nothing.”

  He shakes his head like he isn’t buying it. “It’s always something with her.”

  “She’s still a little hung up on you, to say the least.”

  He rolls his eyes. “She’s stubborn.”

  “She’s persistent,” I correct.

  He places his palms on the either side of me. “She’s annoying.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, that too.”

  He lifts himself out of the water until we’re eye to eye. His shoulder muscles are bulging, his eyelashes are wet, water is dripping over his chest—and I can’t figure out what I want to look at most. He grins and shakes out his wet hair. I’m pelted by the drops.

  He leans forward and plants a wet kiss on my lips. Then he breaks away and sinks back into the water, disappearing beneath it. When he resurfaces, he gasps and snakes an arm around my waist. I’m pulled from the boat and into the cool water with him. He holds me under long enough to press his mouth to mine.

  Then we resurface, both laughing and trying to catch our breath. He pulls me forward until I’m close enough to see the reflection of the water in his eyes. And all of a sudden, we aren’t laughing anymore.

  His hand slips up to the nape of my neck and he applies a gentle pressure, coaxing my lips to his. He pushes my mouth open with his and his tongue delves in. The kiss is cool and salty. All of my senses spring to life, and the beating of my heart slams into overdrive. I wrap my legs around his waist and press myself to him. His drift down over my hips and trail along the line of my bikini bottoms. Desire coils low in my stomach, and it makes me forget about everything. I want to touch him. More of him. Which is a very bad thing, because we’re in a very public place.

  When we break apart he looks just as disoriented as I do. His eyes have a sexy, turned-on glaze that’s making it really hard for me control my ragged breathing. But then I feel eyes on me. Lots of them. I glance around and realize it’s because there are a lot of people watching us. I automatically unlink my legs and put a little distance between us. “We’ve got an audience.”

  He laughs and pulls me in for another kiss. “Good.”

  * * *

  We all pile back into Devin’s SUV at the end of the day. I lie down in the backseat and curl into a ball, using Jackson’s lap as a pillow. He combs his hands through my hair as we drive.

  “You’re awfully quiet back there, Charlie,” Taylor calls out, her voice teasing.

  I close my eyes. “I’m tired.”

  “I’m sure you are,” she replies, her tone somewhat suggestive.

  I open my eyes to roll them but stop when I see Devin reach across the center console and cover her hand. Thank goodness. Maybe they’ve sorted things out.

  Thinking about their upcoming engagement makes me giddy, because an engagement means a wedding. Thinking about the day I’m at theirs makes me grin.

  The images of Taylor in a white wedding dress and Devin waiting at the altar dance through my head as Jackson strokes my hair, lulling me to sleep.

  * * *

  I’m dreaming. Of Jackson. He’s standing with his back to me, wearing a dashing suit. I float toward him, my feet barely touching the ground. I stare down, my mind lagging as it processes the visions my eyes take in. I’m wearing something white, and flowing—a wedding dress. And I carry a bouquet of pink roses. They’re beautiful. I can even smell them.

  I come to a stop beside him and he turns to face me. His eyes are open and sincere. Full of love. They draw me in and I gaze at him, totally enraptured.

  It’s not until someone behind him moves that my eyes leave him. The face comes into focus slowly. It’s Adam, and he’s smiling at me. His light green eyes are alive and dancing. This is the brother I remember. Happy and handsome. And he’s right there, close enough for me to touch, but I can’t move. My feet are rooted to the spot. I can only look on helplessly as Jackson stands between us...separating us, keeping us apart.

  * * *

  The kiss I shared with Jackson when I was seven was fairly innocent. But the next kiss we shared, when I was sixteen, wasn’t. That next kiss led to a string of very un-innocent kisses, all occurring over a span of two years or so.

  Kisses that we shared in the dark, in my bedroom late at night when he wasn’t supposed to be there, sometimes in his bedroom late at night, sitting in the back row of the movie theater, in the supply closet at the high school, at Los Tacos Locos in the supply room with my back pressed against boxes of taco shells...there were lots of them, too many to name.

  But there was one that led to all of those, and it’s the one I remember most. It was on a cold day in November. I quite enjoyed the cold weather—not being out in it, just the way things looked when it was cold—the frost on windshields, the puffs of smoke when you exhale and the dewy film that covered everything and made it glisten. I used to sit in the library at school in front of a large picture window and look out at the courtyard, where most of the students gathered during lunch.

  Jackson joined me that day, and we were arguing about my then-current loser boyfriend, Manny, who’d cheated on me for the seventh time two days prior with a volleyball player named Morgan Mason.

  I had my face shoved in my chemistry book and I was scowling, trying my hardest to ignore the fact that Jackson was sitting across from me, watching me.

  “Why are you dating him?” he asked. “You deserve better.”

  I rolled my eyes, because it was at least the tenth time he’d said those exact words in the last hour. And he didn’t have much room to lecture me, because he was dating Mary Jane then. Mary Jane was the female equivalent of Manny.

  “I don’t know.” I threw my hands in the hair. “He’s not that bad. He’s sweet...sometimes.”

  He shook his head. “That’s an awful reason and you know it. You should be with someone who’s sweet all the time.”

  “God, Jackson, look around—that doesn’t exist.”

  “It does,” he insisted. “For someone like you, it does.”

  My scowl deepened with the growth of my confusion. “Someone like me? What’s that supposed to mean?” I slammed the cover of my chemistry book shut and stood abruptly, ignoring the death rays the librarian was shooting our way with her glare. She hated me. “And why am I taking advice from you anyway? You’re dating the biggest female douche bag on planet Earth.”

  I stomped across the floor in an attempt to lose him in the endless shelves of towering books. He only followed, right on the heels of my Chuck Taylors. “Don’t change the subject,” he said. “This isn’t about me, or her. It’s about you.”

  I spun around and glared at him. “You don’t get a say in what I do!”

  “I do get a say,” he countered, his voice growing louder.

  “No. You. Don’t.” I jabbed my finger into his chest with each word. Even then he had the kind of chest you could break a finger on. “I deserve Manny, and Manny deserves me.”

  “You need to open your damn eyes!”

  “Shhh!” I grabbed him by the hand and dragged him deeper into the rows of books to escape Gale’s growing glare of death. “My eyes are open and perfectly functional.”

  “They’re not,” he said, shaking his head. “They couldn’t be if Manny is what you think you deserve. You’re beautiful and sma—”

&n
bsp; “I’m not beautiful. I’m mediocre at best.” I opened my mouth to say something else but before the words could come, he kissed me. He pressed his mouth against mine and kissed me with my back pressed against a shelf of dusty old library books. His lips were soft and warm and he tasted like cinnamon.

  When he pulled away he was breathing harder than usual and I’d stopped breathing altogether. He pressed his lips against mine again, softer this time. “You are so much more than beautiful,” he whispered, his lips brushing against mine with his words. My eyes were closed, my head in a daze. “Don’t ever let anyone make you feel any different.”

  I couldn’t find any words. I knew I needed to speak, because none of this made any sense. But I didn’t. Instead, I kissed him again.

  * * *

  The next week at work is relatively slow and uneventful. I’m restless and bubbling with excitement by the time Friday comes. I have a date with Jackson tonight, and I’ve been fantasizing about it all week.

  It’s been quiet all day, and I’m not sure if five o’clock will ever come. My dad is out of the office, having texted this morning that he had to schedule a last-minute business meeting out of town. Even with Jackson’s presence, the environment feels odd and empty in his absence.

  At least it’s lunch and I have plans with Claire. I head to the bathroom to check my makeup before leaving. My eyes are wide and excited, and a goofy smile has taken over my lips. My hair even seems to have more oomph lately. I reapply my lipstick and drop it back into my purse. Things are going well for me. I’m feeling...happy, in all parts of my life for once.

  I ride the elevator down to the lobby, humming to myself the entire way. The restaurant is only a brief walk. I spot Claire’s long red curls the second I get there. She’s seated at a table with her back to me.

  I lean down and hug her from behind. “Claire Brenner, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  She giggles as I take the seat across from her. “Hello to you too.”

  I grin. “It’s good to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you too.” She tilts her head to the side and studies me. “You look so happy.”