Jump Then Fall

by Alyssia Kirkhart

  “Should I be scared?”

  His eyes rolled toward the ceiling, then back at me. “Maybe.”

  “Shoot.”

  “There’s this awards ceremony coming up.”

  “Heard something about that.”

  “In Vegas.”

  “Oh.”

  “Have you ever been?”

  “No.”

  “Do you wanna maybe see it?”

  “I…I guess I’ve never really given it much thought.”

  “Okay, allow me to rephrase. There’s an awards ceremony in Vegas.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I’ve agreed to perform.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’d like you to be my plus one.” He took a breath. “If you’re interested.”

  My mind went blank for five seconds. “You want me to go to Las Vegas with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “To an awards ceremony.”

  “Yes.”

  “With people?”

  “Generally, there are other people there, yes.”

  Another gap in mental capacity came and went. “Lawson, I…that’s a big deal.”

  His arms left me and folded over his chest. “It’s too fast, isn’t it?”

  His expression in that moment, I couldn’t explain it, not even if I had time and paper and reference books. It was like uncertainty had hit him and he didn’t know how to take it. How to process what he was feeling. Odds and options weighed in his eyes, in his shoulders, which had gone suddenly tense.

  Lawson Hill. Unsure of himself. He’d been open with me, vulnerable, told me things I’d bet he hadn’t told a single living soul. Not reporters, not friends. Maybe not even family, although I didn’t know who that might’ve been past his mother.

  “Your mom told me something.”

  He didn’t respond. Just stared at me, looking more and more tense by the second.

  “She said you fall fast. She said you fall hard.”

  He looked at his feet, shifted from one to the other.

  I took a breath. “We can’t fall for each other, Lawson.”

  His head shot up and he stilled, eyes searching mine.

  “At the end of the summer, Nashville will be an inevitable dot from thirty-thousand feet.”

  His expression softened. Gaze narrowed. Still, he said nothing.

  Unable to look at him and say what I knew needed to be said, I averted my eyes. “I don’t want to go to England nursing a broken heart.” I drew in a serrated breath. “I don’t want to miss you so much I can’t move forward, start a life of my own. Because I want that, you know?”

  “Harper.”

  “I want a life of my own. Sustainable. Independent.”

  “Harper.” His voice was low, smooth. So soft I felt it on my skin. “Look at me.”

  I did and, for once, he wasn’t smiling.

  “You’re in your life.” He reached for my hand. “Here. Now. With me. And I’m grateful for that. I’m grateful you’re giving me your time. I don’t think you understand how much it means to me that of all the things you could be doing, you agreed to come here, to be with me.”

  “It’s not like it was a tough decision,” I said.

  His mouth quirked. “Maybe not. But you still said yes. So, say yes again. Come to Vegas. Let me buy you a dress and a pair of heels. Let me take you to dinner, show you the lights. Because that’s the way you’ve made me feel, Harper Evans. Here.” He set a hand to his chest. “Lights. All inside. Warm and flickering.” His hand mimicked a heartbeat. “See?”

  My lips twisted in attempt to hide my smile. “Your mom also said you’re a romantic.”

  “Told you I was.” The grin was back. Beautiful. Blanketing my heart. “Are you sayin’ you’re gonna hold that against me?”

  I shook my head. Slipped my hands around his waist. “Not on your life.”

  chapter thirteen

  Senior year, in AP English-Lit, we spent two weeks studying Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. We dissected it like a starfish. Picked off each limb, attempted to examine the very tissue of Shakespeare’s brain. What was the dramatic purpose of Mercutio’s Queen Mab speech? Is the conclusion of the play in strict accord with poetic justice? Is fourteen really a good age to get married?

  The most popular question, however, was the most cliché of the lot.

  How was it possible for two people who knew nothing of each other to fall so deeply in love at first sight?

  My classmates had their respective insights. Some believed it too fictitious to be true. Others claimed that, well, things were just different back then. Relationships were less complicated before radio and television and movie theaters.

  I’d raised my hand and proposed that, perhaps, the depth of emotion was already there and had been there all along. Here were two families who’d hated one another for as long as anyone could remember. Deep seated hatred, as it turned out, was as powerful as the most profound love. Everyone had stared, faces contorted. There were snickers, whispers. I wondered if I’d sprouted a tail and horns.

  “There’s a fine line between love and hate,” I’d said and blushed, because of how unoriginal the phrase was, regardless of its truth.

  But I was at the top of my class and, gradually, the expressions of my peers changed to thoughtfulness. Maybe even awe. The teacher was definitely impressed.

  I didn’t believe it, though. How could two people experience the greatest emotion ever instantly? Wasn’t that more reaction than reality? Anger, lust, rage, compassion—all things that could be switched off as quickly as they were switched on. Certainly, more plausible than love at first sight.

  Lawson Hill had me betting against my own belief system.

  It was madness. A sweet, profound chaos. And yet we slipped into an ease that had me questioning what life was like before, if I was ever living at all, and how I was supposed to survive after him. When he got up at two in the morning, always it was two or shortly thereafter, and sat at the piano or picked up one of his guitars to work out whatever was causing him to lose sleep, I got up, too. I watched. I learned. But most of all I allowed myself to visualize the future me. The new associate at a prestigious law firm. The young lawyer living the dream in a fancy high rise, working files in a fashionable office with a great view. It was a pretty picture. Satisfying. The vision, the dream. But would it compare to this? Would success give me the same feeling of happiness I felt in those moments while Lawson played, and I listened?

  Lawson drove me to work, but by the third straight day of dropping me off and picking me up, he’d drawn a crowd.

  “You should just quit,” Savana said. She’d called within seconds of me getting into Lawson’s truck and pulling away from the library.

  “I can’t quit my job, Savana.”

  “Why? You don’t need to work.”

  “Neither do you.”

  Lawson turned down the radio.

  “Touché. But let’s not make this about me. You’re leaving in a couple of months, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s not like you have a lot of time not to be realistic, you get me?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “You can’t work anyplace in this city and date Lawson Hill at the same time.”

  I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. He was silently mouthing the lyrics to a Keith Urban song, tapping out the beat on the steering wheel.

  “Maybe I should just go back home,” I said and instantly felt his gaze on the side of my face. “Get back into routine.”

  “Yeah, okay. Sure. Is that really what you want?”

  I at least gave a couple seconds of pause, then answered honestly, “No.”

  “All right, then. You can’t date Lawson Hill, live with him, allow him to drive you to and from work, and expect people not to notice.”

  “So, I’ll get the car. Dad left me the keys, told me to use it.”

  Lawson inhaled a deep breath. Released it in degrees.

&nb
sp; “Yeah, you could do that. Only…”

  “Only what?”

  “Well, you’ve been spotted. You’ve been seen. With him. People are getting curious. They want to know who you are, why you’re with him.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. Closed my eyes. I should’ve known this was coming. Should’ve realized what it would mean when I made the decision to be with him. When we did—Lawson was just as much a part of this as I was. Anxiety flirted with the edges of my nerves and I forced myself to breathe through my nose, pushed against the threat of nausea.

  “I don’t mean to be a blunt jackass,” said Savana, “but your life in this town just got flipped on its rear. Have you heard from your dad?”

  “Some.” But not much. The conversations were always clipped, pleasantries followed by his insistence that he had to get to some meeting and would call me later. Later turned out to be two days and a series of texts.

  Everything okay?

  Yep.

  Good. Love you.

  Love you, too.

  “Well, I’ve told you what I think.” Savana sighed into the phone. “Look, Harper, you know I love Law. He’s like a brother to me. But I’m kinda fond of you, too, and for what it’s worth, I think you’re great together. I’ve never seen him happier. If giving up the summer job you don’t even need means you get to spend more time with the guy you like, shit, girl, why are we even having this conversation?”

  Laughter broke through my discomfort. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right.”

  “What? What was that again? Speak into my good ear.”

  “Nope. Not gonna say it.”

  “Say it.”

  “I said maybe.”

  “Nuh uh. I wanna hear you say it. You are right, Savana.”

  “Fine. You are right, Savana. There. Happy?”

  “Not a hundred percent, but it’ll do. Hey, did I tell you? I’ve got an audition in the morning.”

  “What? Are you serious? Oh my gosh, Savana, that’s great! What’s it for?”

  “Just a little indie film. But you never know.”

  “That’s amazing. Really. I’m so happy for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’ll let me know how it goes?”

  “Of course. Hey, put me on speaker.” I did, and she said, “What’s up, Law?”

  The edge of his mouth kicked up. “Hey, hey, Savvy.”

  “You takin’ care of my girl?”

  He glanced at me and the look in his eyes made my heart stutter. “Tryin’ my best.”

  “Better be. Love you guys. Talk later.”

  “Love you, too,” Lawson and I said at the same time.

  Two songs played on the radio before Lawson finally spoke. “So, are we gonna talk about your conversation with Savvy? Not that it’s any of my business, of course, but it kinda sounded like it might be a little bit my business.”

  I leaned my head back against the headrest. “She said people are starting to notice.”

  “Starting to notice what?”

  “Come on. You didn’t see the group of teenage girls outside the library today?”

  His hand tightened around the steering wheel.

  “Or what about yesterday?” I asked. “When one girl took her shirt off, right there on the sidewalk, for God and everybody to see?”

  “Was that before or after someone screamed my whole name like an exorcised demon?”

  I cocked my head at him, pursed my lips.

  “Okay, yeah. Yes.” His throat bobbed. “Yes, I noticed.”

  “And it didn’t bother you?”

  “This is my life, Harper. Does it bother me? Of course, it does. But I’ve gotten so used to it, I’ve learned to brush them off. Ignore them. You should, too.”

  “Oh, really? That’s what I should do? Just ignore girls flashing you their boobs? Great.” I slapped my knee. “So easy. Why didn’t I think of that to begin with? Ignore the boobs. Gotcha.”

  Laughing, he said, “Okay, you’re right. That’s a tough request.”

  “You think?”

  “Boobs are pretty hard to ignore.” His gaze dropped down my neck and I was suddenly aware I’d opted for one of my tighter t-shirts that day.

  “You are…”

  “Yes?”

  “Impossible.”

  “Right. I’m impossible and you’re the one wearing…” He spared me a glance, then returned his eyes to the road. “That.”

  “It’s a top and loose pants.” One of my cuter outfits, actually, a 90’s homage to Rachel Green. Baby tee with a cute angel print and high-waist wide leg pants that looked awesome with Chucks.

  “Those pants do things to your ass, darlin’,” he said and quickly added, “sorry, that was crude,” but I was already unbuckling my seatbelt and sitting up, trying to get a good look at my butt.

  He laughed so hard I felt my own laughter bubbling up in my chest. “All right, Columbus, get your seatbelt on, would you?”

  “I’m trying to see what all the fuss is about.”

  “We can assess the situation when we’re safe inside the house. You have my word.”

  As it turned out, Lawson wasn’t a man who broke promises. The moment we stepped inside, his hands were on me, yanking my body against his and kissing me until we were both gasping for breath.

  “Wrap your legs around me, darlin’, I’m taking you upstairs.”

  The thought to argue, object for femininity’s sake, didn’t enter my mind. I looped my arms around his neck, and he picked me up with ease, his hands cupping my ass as my legs circled his waist. He carried me upstairs. Kissing my chin, my neck. He might’ve been holding a feather pillow, easily as he maneuvered from stairs to landing to my room.

  Once inside, he laid me down on the bed and hovered over me. His head dipped. Our lips met. My hands were in his hair. One of his pushed into the space of mattress beside my head, while the other—the other gently moved my knee to the side, spreading my legs enough so that he could nestle his hips in between them.

  His body on top of mine.

  The weight of him.

  I’d had the thought before, but then we’d only been tucked together on the couch.

  This was so much different.

  He shifted, an nth of a degree, and my body responded as if it knew exactly what it wanted before I did. His necklace dangled between us. Before my brain had time to process what was happening, I tugged the chain and pulled him into a hard kiss, one that went on and on. He felt perfect. We fit perfect. And our kisses, it was like we’d been made for this. Like every kiss we’d shared had been growing and simmering, leading to this moment. My hands roamed greedily, down his neck, his back and around his waist.

  As if he could read my mind, he pulled back, reached behind his head and tugged off his shirt.

  I inhaled sharply. Shit. Of course he was just as beautiful out of his clothes as in them. Of course, his chest was defined and smooth. Because how else would a music god look? While his abs might not’ve been the beloved six-pack everybody seemed to gush about, his stomach was flat and toned. A runner’s body, I thought, as he murmured for me to come here.

  His voice was low, raspy, and I sat up halfway, raised my arms so he could remove my shirt. A quick twist of its front clasp and my bra went next, discarded. His gaze roamed over me, snagging on my hardened nipples. Save for the girls’ locker room and maybe my lady doctor, I’d never been naked with anyone. But I was at ease with Lawson.

  He set a hand over my heart for one, two, three beats.

  Then he swallowed and replaced his hand with his lips.

  A pained moan fled my lips as he kissed a path between my breasts. I arched my back. Bit my lower lip. His tongue circled a nipple and then he was taking me in his mouth, suckling gently and, holy cow, all the oxygen in the room dissipated. He paved a road to the other breast, a trail of open-mouthed kisses and sweeps of his tongue. Thought died. All I could do was feel—his lips, his hands, his hips slowly grinding against mine.
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  “Lawson…” I pressed myself into him, drew him close with my legs. My panties were drenched, sticking to my folds. “I want…please.”

  His mouth took mine as our bodies moved together, mine rising to meet his in perfect tandem. We were tightly melded. Skin to skin, my breasts flattened beneath his chest. He ground hard, kissed me harder. I imagined us naked. Imagined he was already inside me.

  “Harper.” I loved the way he said my name. It was so fucking hot, and my name had never been hot. Not even close. “I wanna see you when you come.”

  My eyes flew open and there were his, staring back at me, his irises a mere rim of blue around his enlarged pupils. He didn’t stop. His hips kept moving, simulating sex, and suddenly the build reached a vivid crescendo.

  I cried out, gasping. My body shuddered, convulsing around nothing when I wanted so badly for it to be him. He watched me. Even though I’d shut my eyes, allowing the euphoria to run through my body, I felt his gaze. Assessing, learning, committing to memory. His chest heaved and he asked if I was all right and I whispered yes. Yes, I was, but, no, I wasn’t.

  Not by half.

  Lawson’s phone buzzed in his back pocket and he excused himself, stepping out of the room and easing the door shut. I laid there for several minutes, bare breasted, gradually allowing the air to fill my lungs.

  Real.

  This was real.

  We’d moved to a new city, I’d met a boy, and I was beginning to fall for him.

  Hard.

  I covered my eyes with the back of my hand, drew in a breath through my nose. This was already hurting. My head, my heart. I was making choices that didn’t fit with the design. Dad’s absence wasn’t planned, but there was nothing I could do about that. Keeping a summer job? Important. Or, at least, I’d thought it was. If I was seeing any other boy, someone normal, someone ordinary, a college student, perhaps, it wouldn’t be this way. We could go out. He could see me anytime he wanted, in any setting he chose. People wouldn’t bother us. People wouldn’t care.

  That was the problem.

  Too many people cared about Lawson Hill. Including me.

  I got up. Took a shower. My body was still humming. Drunk in the aftermath of coming apart beneath the sexiest man I’d ever met.

  Tonight, everyone was supposed to come over for the weekly jam session, but Savana called as I was drying my hair and said they were skipping. Two band members in a group slotted to perform at a local café had gotten sick and the café’s owner needed a replacement. It couldn’t be just anybody, she claimed. The café was world-renowned, historic. Artists like LeAnn Rimes and Rascal Flatts were known to drop in, unannounced.