Falling for Him

by Jessica Roe

  Or not.

  I rest my head on the cold glass for a moment, then I take a deep breath and sit down in front of my desk once more so that I can re-read the email and make sure I didn't imagine it.

  It's real. I'm not dreaming. I even pinch myself to make sure and. . .ouch. It's real.

  This guy really does want to invest in Ivy's Designs.

  Holy mothering crap.

  Grabbing the phone, I bring up Nash's number because as always, he's the first person I want to share things with. To share everything with. But then I remember that I can't, because we haven't spoken in over a month and things. . .things aren't like they used to be. My face falls, the stinging reminder souring my exuberance slightly.

  I just. . .I miss Nash so much it hurts. That's all.

  Chapter 19

  Nash

  I don't miss Ivy.

  I don't miss the way she made me laugh until my stomach ached over the dumbest little things, and the way she was never afraid to call me out on my shit.

  I don't miss coming home to find her things scattered everywhere, or how seeing it made me feel less alone when she wasn't there.

  I don't miss being forced to watch lame reality TV shows, or that smug little smile she'd wear whenever she invariably got her own way.

  I don't miss the way her cheeks would blush as she pretended not to watch me when I paraded around shirtless in front of her.

  I don't miss the taste of her lips, the sound of her laughter, the softness of her skin. I don't miss the smell of strawberries, or the way her hair felt like silk when I ran my fingers through it. I don't miss the sound of her breathing quietly next to me at night, or the sexy little groan she made when she woke up first thing in the morning.

  I don't miss Ivy. Not even a little bit.

  These days I'm a grumpy son of a bitch, I know that – and I don't give a rat's ass. People around me have started to notice. My co-workers, who have never been afraid to kid around with me despite my dad being their boss, now actively avoid me. My family keep making up reasons to come visit me at home, especially Mom, but it's obvious they're just checking up on me. Hell, even Bambi's noticed that I only seem to be living half a life these days. Every time we meet up to hang out she asks me if I've spoken to Ivy, and she always smiles so happily when I tell her I haven't. That smile used to make every muscle in my body tighten, and now. . .now I'm just numb. But Bambi knows, I think. She knows how much I miss Ivy and she doesn't like it. It's probably why there's still this wall between us, why we haven't crossed the line from hanging out to something more.

  I'm just. . .I'm not me anymore.

  +++

  “Thanks for helping out again, guys,” Zac says to Nathan and I as we meet him in the back garden of his new house, ready for another grueling Saturday of work. “I owe you one.”

  The place is really coming along. Over the past couple of months we've cleaned all the shit up inside, knocked down a few walls to make more space, put in the new floors and windows and repainted the rooms. Now that Zac's had someone sort out the wiring and we've fixed up the rickety old porch, the place is actually livable, though Hailee refuses to move in until it's totally complete. All we have left to do is to sort out the jungle of a garden and give the outside a fresh coat of paint and the house will look like new. It's probably about time, because Hailee and my mom are driving each other nuts. I don't even live at home yet I still have to hear all about it every time Mom calls.

  The March air is cool and crisp enough that my skin is breaking out into goosebumps, but the sun is shining brightly so I know that once we get to work we'll be sweating our asses off in no time.

  “No problem,” I grumble. “Cleaning up your shit is just what I wanted to do with my weekend.”

  Zac rolls his eyes and pretends not to hear me. He's gotten good at that recently. Glancing at Nathan, he starts, “Is-”

  “Yep,” Nathan responds, too quickly for it not to be suspicious. “She'll be here any minute.”

  “Who'll be here any minute?” I demand roughly, but my body is already growing cold because I think I know. Neither of them answer, so I glare at them through my shades. “Who will be fucking here any minute?”

  “Hello?” a light voice calls from around the front of the house. A voice I know all too well. A voice I've done nothing but ache for. A voice that sends my heart leaping into my throat. “Anyone here? Nathan? Zac?”

  Watching me carefully, Zac answers, “Back here, Ivy!”

  My fists clench as her footsteps draw closer, and then she appears from the side of the house like a fucking vision. She's wearing jeans and a short sleeved red t-shirt – so much more casual than usual. Her long hair is pulled back from her face in a ponytail, exposing that slender neck of hers.

  She freezes the moment she spots me. I can tell by the shock on her face that she'd expected to see me here about as much as I'd expected to see her. Obviously Nathan and my brother have been fucking plotting. Her eyes dart between the three of us and she twitches, like her body is desperate to run, but she takes a deep breath and keeps her feet planted firmly in place.

  I feel myself stepping forward involuntarily, drawn to her. “Ivy. . .”

  Her smile is weak. But still, it's there. I'll take it. “Hi, Nash.” And then to Zac and Nathan. “Dickheads.”

  I grin. It's been so long since I've done it that it hurts. It feels foreign on my mouth.

  Nathan moves over and slaps my back before throwing an arm around Ivy's shoulders. As much as I want to punch him in his smug face for throwing me to the wolves like this, I'm also insanely grateful that he's set this up. Also, I can't blame him. I don't know what Ivy's been like to be around recently but I know I've been a pain in the ass. “Look at this wild and crazy coincidence! I had no idea the two of you would both be here at exactly the same time. Zac, did you have any idea?”

  “Nooo.” Zac shakes his head, smiling like an idiot. “No idea at all. Can you believe we double booked them? What a giant yet completely innocent mistake.”

  Ivy and I watch their show in stony silence.

  “Well!” Nathan exclaims when neither of us say a word. He and Zac start edging away, like they've planned this whole thing out down to the last detail. “Zac and I are going to go work around the front. Why don't you two crazy kids get started here in the back? And, you know, stop being stupid fuckers and make up already. You're both driving me crazy.”

  They disappear, and the two of us are left alone in silence. We stand still, watching each other but not making eye contact.

  Ivy is the first to move. She sighs, slipping on a pair of thick work gloves before grabbing up a heavy duty garbage bag. I follow suit and we get to work in silence, picking up empty beer bottles and soda cans and junk food wrappers that have found a home in the long grass. I keep opening my mouth to say something, then finding that I just don't have the words to express what's inside me. I've never had that problem before, not in my whole damned life.

  The silence stretches on, awkward, stilted.

  “I DON'T HEAR ANY MAKING UP GOING ON!” Nathan yells from the front of the house after some time.

  “Fuck off!” I shout back, and I hear Ivy trying to stifle a giggle. I find myself smiling over at her, like a kid desperate for approval.

  “The people who squatted here were pigs,” she declares, not long later. She unearths some empty takeout boxes and laughs. “You think they actually had these delivered?”

  “You know what the worst things is?” I say. “This pretty much mirrors our own diets.”

  A snort escapes her. “So true.”

  Pausing, I look down at the half full garbage bag in my hands then up at her. “Nathan's an ass. He shouldn't have tricked us into this.”

  She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth. “He shouldn't have had to.”

  I nod, because ain't that the truth. We never should've have let things get this way between us. “No, he shouldn't.”

  Her eyes meet mine the
n for the first time since she got here, and it hits me with a breath stealing wham. “He just cares about us, even if he is a pig about it.”

  The garbage bag falls from my hands, because suddenly the words don't seem so hard anymore. “Ivy, I. . .I fucking miss you. I miss being friends with you.”

  “Me too. I'm. . .” Sighing again, she drops her own garbage bag and pulls off her gloves, searching for someplace safe to sit. Eventually she just flops down on the long grass and it makes me smile, because this is the old Ivy – the one who was never afraid to get dirty. I sit next to her, leaving a large space between us. “I'm sorry I moved out without saying anything. That was lame. If I'd waited to talk to you first then maybe we wouldn't have gone so long without talking.”

  I nod. “I'm sorry too, for how I handled things. The way I acted then wasn't cool. I was just confused and. . .all up in my own head about stupid shit and. . .you know? But bringing Keila home-”

  “We don't have to talk about that.” She shakes her head, picking up a long blade of grass and fiddling with it. “And it's okay. I guess we both could've handled things differently.”

  “I want us to be friends again, Ivy,” I utter desperately. “I need us to be friends again. I need you in my life. Apparently I'm a brooding ass baby when you're not around – Blair's exact words.”

  Her answering laugh makes my heart sing. Shifting closer, she rests her head on my shoulder just like. . .just like old times. “Me too, Nash. I mean, not the brooding ass baby part, because I'm just delightful no matter the weather.” We both grin at that. “But the rest of it. I need you too. I need to be able to call you and talk to you and see you. I have so many things I want to tell you.”

  Shaking my gloves off, I throw an around around her waist and pull her closer, resting my chin on the top of her head. “Like the investor guy?”

  “You heard about that?”

  “Course I heard about that. Nathan told me as soon as he found out. I kept pretending like I didn't want to talk about you, but I was like a starving dog sniffing for scraps of food. I took whatever news about you I could get. I'm so fucking proud of you.”

  She shrugs. “It's not a definite thing. I haven't even met the guy yet. We're just emailing back and forth right now.”

  “You'll get it, I know you will.” Without letting go of her, I hold out my spare hand for her to shake. “So, friends?”

  Her hand, still warm from the heat of the glove, grips mine tightly. It always surprises me how how small hers are compared to mine. “Definitely friends.”

  And for the first time in over a month, I feel like I can breathe again.

  +++

  Later that night, Bambi and I go out to dinner at Merry Fairburn's and I finally feel like I can be myself with her again. I finally feel like I can laugh again, like I can smile again, like I can live again. But when she asks me if I've spoken to Ivy as she always does, I find myself lying and telling her that I haven't. I don't know why I do that. It's messed up.

  When I drop her home that night she tugs on my sleeve and leans in close, waiting for me to kiss her. This. . .it's all I've wanted for so many months. So when I kiss her on the cheek and head back to my car, pretending not to see her disappointment, I don't know who's more confused – me or her.

  The first thing I do when I get home later is to record Ivy a video message. It's the first one that I've actually had the guts to send her in months.

  “I'm glad we're friends again,” is all I tell her, but there's a part of me that can't help feeling like I should be saying so much more.

  Chapter 20

  Ivy

  Before I even know what's happening, a month has flown by in the blink of an eye. I spend most of that time holed up in my apartment, working day and night on my designs in preparation for meeting with the potential investor. The world around me ceases to exist as I work until I'm practically permanently cross eyed and constantly find myself drifting off to sleep right over my desk. I barely come up for air, but nothing has ever seemed as important as getting everything perfect.

  A loud bang on the door one day in April startles the crap out of me, and I shoot up from where I'd been half napping over my sketchbook at my desk.

  “Ivy!” Nash's stern voice calls from the other side of the door. “Open up, you wretched little hermit.”

  Things between Nash and I, they're. . .good. We don't see each other much, mostly because I've been so busy preparing for my meeting that I haven't really seen anyone, but we've been texting back and forth a lot, and speaking on the phone at least once a week.

  And I'm. . .pushing those feelings back down. The longer that passes, the easier it is to pretend I don't feel anything at all. I've gotten really good at pretending.

  Yawning and stretching like a lazy cat, I pull myself out of my seat, rubbing my poor numb butt. Nash has already started banging on the door again by the time I've ambled over to answer it; his fist is still raised mid air when it swings open. With his gray hoodie and his jeans and his baseball cap on backwards, he looks casually gorgeous. I've never been able to pull off a hoodie like him.

  He pretends to start in surprise at the sight of me. “Oh, so you are alive.” Shoving by me into the apartment, he glances around at all the mess and the scattered paper and bits of material littering every surface, before his eyes slide towards me. I pull a face self consciously, belatedly remembering the pizza stains on my yoga pants and the ratty hair piled up on the top of my head. “Jesus, Ives.”

  I glare, pushing the door shut with my foot and folding my arms. “You just come here to complain about how gross I am?”

  “I came here to get you out of this apartment for a little while. When was the last time you actually breathed in some fresh air?”

  “I cracked a window yesterday,” I counter sullenly.

  He rolls his eyes. “Go grab a shower. We're going out if have to drag you myself.”

  “But I have work to-”

  “Work can wait for a single hour, Ivy. Shower. Now. Before I put you in. . .” He trails off then.

  Right. Naked jokes between Ivy and Nash are no longer cool.

  “Fine,” I huff, wanting to protest his bossiness, but I really do need a shower. Like, epically. And the thought of real live fresh air is just too tempting to pass up.

  But I do make sure to send him my most withering glare as I make my way towards the bathroom.

  He's made himself at home by the time I leave my bedroom twenty minutes later, happily stretched out on my sofa watching TV and eating my not so secret stash of gummy bears.

  “That's better,” he declares when he spots me. He stands and shoves the gummy bears in his back pocket (because he's a dirty thief) before grasping my hand and dragging me from the apartment.

  +++

  We find ourselves in Fortune Park fifteen minutes later, strolling down a pathway coated in pink and white petals.

  “It's already time for blossom?” I ask in surprise, staring up at the pink dusted trees. “I love blossom.”

  “Maybe you'd have noticed if you bothered to leave your apartment once in a while,” Nash teases.

  I wrap my hands around his solid arm, hip bumping him affectionately. “Okay, you were right – I totally needed this. Thanks for bringing me out here.”

  “I know how much you love it here when it looks like this – I didn't want you to miss it. You remember you used to make us come here every fucking day back in high school during spring? Drove me crazy.”

  “Psh. You loved it.”

  “You did not just psh me.”

  “Psh posh.”

  We've only been here for minutes, but already the fresh air is doing wonders for the fog that had taken up permanent residence in my head. I feel better. Clearer. Human again.

  “Come on, little zombie.” He leads us under the huge willow tree that overlooks the pond. We sit down; the ground is a little damp beneath our butts, but not enough to make it uncomfortable.

  We sit
in companionable silence for almost an hour, watching others go about their days. There's an old man who keeps having to chase after his tiny dog every time the little thing manages to escape its collar, some teenagers oh so covertly huddled in a circle as they all share a single, forbidden cigarette, a middle aged couple being completely gross yet totally sweet as they hold hands and make out in front of the pond.

  “Bet they're having an affair,” Nash murmurs quietly.

  Laughing, I slap his arm and swivel around so I can lay my head in his lap, just like when we were teenagers. “You're so mean.”

  Grinning down at me, he picks up a handful of petals and lines them up on my stomach. “You never know what's going on behind closed doors.”

  “Well this is the park, not behind closed doors, you big dummy. You're such a cynic.”

  “Maybe I'm just a realist?”

  I can't help but snort. “Says the guy who genuinely thinks a zombie apocalypse is an actual threat.”

  “Hey! You won't be complaining when me and all my sexy man muscles are saving your skinny hide.”

  “Right, because of all your intensive video game training? Oh yes, save me now, Nash Peeters, God of Zombie Guts. Save me now!”

  He breaks out into laughter, his body shaking beneath my head. Then, without even seeming to think about it, he cups my cheek in his hand, leaning down to tenderly brush my lips with his.

  My heart crashes against my ribs the second his lips touch mine, because I hadn't even realized how much I'd missed this. My blood fizzes, fiery tingles shooting from my heart and out through my fingertips. I try so desperately not to respond, but I just can't help myself from kissing him back.

  It takes Nash a couple of seconds to realize what he's doing, and when he does he pulls back with a look of such horror on his face that I immediately feel sick. I roll off his lap and we both climb to our feet.