How I Fall

by Anne Eliot

  I can tell by the flushed look on his face that he’s heading in to the part where he’s feeling sorry for me and even sorrier for himself that one of his guy-testosterone surges that we all learned about in human sexuality class accidentally brought him to hitting on the school’s disabled girl. I quickly speak, before he can say more. “If you must know, I’m relieved you said all that. That’s why I am the one who is sorry. I sort of vowed I wasn’t ever going to kiss you also. And I’m not going to ever again, that’s for sure, so you can stop worrying.”

  He glances back down. “Oh…you didn’t want to? Then, why did you?”

  “Call it curiosity?” I fib. No need to bring up my own insanity-induced-estrogen explosions. “When you asked if you could, I just…was like…yeah…and heck yeah, and why not?” I shrug. “I’m an impulsive person about kissing, and who isn’t? Conditions were perfect. Boy and girl watching the sunset by the lake. All half hidden under trees and no one around to see? A—a—anyone would have gone for that, right? And so—we did.”

  “Uh…” He’s now biting his lower lip and blinking down at me as if he’s struggling for words as much as I am. Worse, I get the sensation he’s covering a choke—or is it a laugh?

  Damn him, if that’s the case he can suck it! If he’s going to laugh at me, if he’s going to tell anyone about this so they can laugh about it? Oh no. No. No. No.

  I manage to roll my eyes a little and execute a nice little bored-sounding snort before leaning against him and patting his shoulder like we’re buds, and that I’m the one feeling really sorry for him, not the other way around.

  “I know I probably took advantage of you going on and on like I did. But you’re pretty good at what you do with that bottom lip and tongue—thing. I got a little caught up when I should have ended it. But it doesn’t mean anything. Of course not.” I blink up at him as though I’m about to add him to some sort of list of ‘who kisses best’ that I’m keeping. “I’m on your same page so no hard feelings? My life is also a mess and so busy. Thankfully our lives will never intersect again after this project. We never have to bring it up again. And I think we shouldn’t. To anyone.” I force a laugh, praying he’s going to agree to this. “Let’s not be sorry or make it strange and chalk it up to one of those huge and terrible high school mistakes.”

  He sighs, lowering his lashes so I can’t look into his eyes. “’Mistake’ seems like a harsh enough word, without the words ‘huge’ and ‘terrible’ added on—don’t you think?”

  “Oh…I don’t know…if you’ve got better words for it I’m open.” I say, watching him through my lashes and wondering where he’s going to take things next.

  He captures my eyes with his, and adjusts his arms around me as though he’s trying to pull me closer. “I’ve never ‘gone on and on’ and kissed anyone like I just kissed you. I’ve also never felt like that after a kiss—or like this—which I need to explain to you that I feel like I’m going to die or fly or both right now. I’ve also never felt how I felt before that kiss, either. Are you telling me that you think what we just shared was normal? That you don’t feel all wild and really mixed up inside like there is suddenly so much to discuss between us right now?” he whispers, scanning my face.

  My heart twists and races, fluttering up the back of my throat as I lock on my poker face even tighter. No way am I going to admit how I feel right now. It’s not safe. He’s just gone mental and needs to realize who he’s kissed. Who is sitting in his lap right now.

  To buy time, I shrug again and blurt out a string of huge lies, “Well. I—I’ve kissed—this—guy. A couple of guys actually. Guys who I used to—sort of—almost date but I didn’t.” I blink, hoping my face looks sincere. “I met them at—physical therapy. They go to other schools and stuff and their kisses, compared to yours…hmm.” I scrunch my face like I’m really analyzing his kiss against others. “Ours was amazing-good. Truly. But I’m pretty sure it’s because you’ve got extra…amazing…” I glance at his whole face. “Lips and tricks you learned off other girls and all that. So it does rate really high, but that rating is not because you have a whole bunch of weird feelings going on. We’re teenagers. We get—surges of—you know—desire and all that. So…between us, we’re great kissers and it was nice, but it’s not rocket science what we did, right? It was more just…biology.” I shrug, looking away.

  He shakes his head. “No…come on. Just no—this is more than,” he chuckles again, “extra amazing lips and surges.” He turns my face up gently so he and I are looking at each other again. “I know this came on way too fast. And I’m sure I was sending out mixed messages because of what I promised. But I think you’re fronting. I think the feelings really exist and I’m hoping they exist for both of us. Which is why the words we’re supposed to be saying to each other right now are coming out all mixed up and out of order. I say I’m going to trust the feelings. Go out with me. For real.”

  I shake my head. “No. You said it yourself. Not a good idea.”

  “Let’s at least start over, then. Consider going out with me, let me—I don’t know—let me go slower, take you on some dates? And consider not going out with anyone else in the meantime.”

  My heart twists into a ball of panic. This guy is thinking he should back-track after our make-out and ask me out on dates?

  *Tickets go on sale tomorrow for the: I Accidentally Kissed Ellen Foster Pity Party. All proceeds going to the: I Will Break-up With Her Slowly Therapy Fund.*

  “Who goes on dates and talks about feelings? Not me. No way. No thanks. As for our kiss?” I work really hard to keep my eyes on his. “This isn’t medieval times. You don’t owe me anything. No one’s caught us making out, so you don’t have to protect my reputation or anything like that or…anything. As long as no one finds out or mocks me for what just went down here, I’m good.” I run my fingers against my mouth like I’m tugging a zipper. “My lips go zip-zip, yours go zip-zip and we’re done. We both know that we can’t afford to make this project—make us—awkward. Right?”

  He smiles down at me like I’m really adorable or something. “But it is awkward, isn’t it? Worse, now that you’ve said the zip-zip-thing my brain has scrambled. I’m staring at your lips and I really want to kiss you again.” He moves his head closer and I actually feel my own body starting to draw up in the direction of his face like it’s got a mind of its own!!

  I push against his brick-solid chest. “Snap out of it. Everything’s all strange and awkward because I’m sitting on your lap, duh? And here we are blabbing to each other like it’s normal to have a conversation about my lips and your lips and us dating!”

  “Yeah. We are.” He moves his index finger along the edge of my mouth. “Because maybe it is normal for us. Maybe you and I have somehow just passed up all the formalities people expect to happen and we’ve made it to a very comfortable spot without much work. And maybe we should entertain the idea that it’s easy and fun and funny, and we should keep it? Keep us as a couple.”

  “You’re delusional. Maybe you should let me go—now. Help me stand up.”

  “Ellen.” He’s just said my name all low and serious, just how he did when he kissed me. It melts my spine. “I’m serious.”

  “No. You’re. Not. You can’t be. And—don’t say the word couple again to me. It’s so weird. Help me stand. Please.”

  He shakes his head and lets out a long, frustrated sigh as I duck under his arms and struggle some, trying to disentangle my legs. His hands go on my waist in that same way he does when he’s picking me up for the school bus. It’s so familiar and warm, and safe feeling I almost want to lean back against him and believe his fast-forward theory. But I don’t. He gets both of us to our feet, but then he doesn’t let go of my waist. His hands are hot—burning through my shirt—as hot as his eyes are burning into me.

  “What are you doing?”

 
“Crap. I have no idea how to make you hear me. What if, Ellen. What if you and I were just meant to be? Please tell me that I’m not crazy?” His eyes are wide open like he’s baring his whole soul. His expression is so bewildered and so vulnerable my breath—my whole heart—catches in the back of my throat as he goes on, “What if—what if? What if that kiss—a kiss I simply won’t believe you don’t think was something special—what if it could lead us to something amazing?”

  I shake my head, my eyes pleading with him to stop. “Where could it lead us? We are on two completely different pathways.”

  “But pathways are meant to intersect. Maybe that’s what this week has been for the two of us? And somehow we—ugh, why am I not better at talking—I don’t know. How about you and I try? Who’s writing the rules that say we can’t?”

  I tilt my head to the side and twist out of his grasp. “What exactly does that look like to you? Really.”

  “You hang out with me. A lot?”

  I reach up and steady myself on the low hanging willow branches nearest me. “I plan to hang out with you a lot. We’ve got the whole project ahead.”

  “No. I mean you—we—really, truly start going out.”

  I blink. “Out. As in…girlfriend and boyfriend? In front of everyone at our school and so our parents—the whole darn town knows? Is that what you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  I cross my arms because suddenly I want to put both hands over my ears. As much as I want to hear what he’s saying—as much as I might have secretly dreamed this moment would someday happen with someone—I never thought it would be with Cam Campbell. This is mostly because the feelings I’ve denied all along have just become so huge and real as I look at his very sincere face, that I feel like I’ve fallen into some sort of wishing well that’s got no way out.

  He runs his hand through his hair. “I’ve got a crazy schedule, and you’ve got physical therapy 24/7, so I know it’s going to be difficult. Nash is probably going to kick my ass, and Patrick as well. My parents are crazy and will not support me on this one bit, either, so you need to be aware of their crazy. It’s because of you as a person, of course, but because they’ve said I can’t have a girlfriend in high school. Then there’s the coach, who is also going to flip out. But I don’t care about any of that, or about them. I care about being with you and that’s more important. I’m sure I can work through all the other stuff if you’re willing to take it—me—on? And what about your mom? Will she be okay with all of this?”

  “Yeah…I guess, but…how could you and I just start going out so quickly?”

  He picks up both of my hands. “It’s not a big deal. It’s high school. That’s how it works, right? You’ve seen it happen. One day, people aren’t together, then you find out they are a couple.”

  “Stop. There’s that word again.”

  *Screams: no…no…no…no!*

  He tightens his grip on my hands because I’ve scooted away from the tree and tried to back away from him, but instead we’ve done a half-turn like we’re doing some awkward Romeo and Juliet style renaissance dance.

  He’s going on like he hardly noticed we’ve swapped places. “I know dating me is going to be a pain in the ass. My football season isn’t forever, even though it’s going to feel like forever now that we’ve made the playoffs. But when winter hits, we’ll be golden. We’ve got the holiday break and spring break.” He blinks. “All of those weekends, then there will be junior prom and…yeah. If you still think I’m not around enough, I will simply give up sleeping so I can text you all night long to make up for what I’m lacking.” He beams. “And of course, when we make it to summer we can hang out non-stop.”

  “Winter, and spring? Prom to summer? All night text-a-thons?” I’m sputtering.

  He blinks. “Too much?”

  “Yes!” I’m shouting now, trying to get my voice into his thick head. “Summer. Are you kidding? Do you know how far away that is from today? Do you know I’ve already got a full-time summer job in the film processing department of the drug store and that I’m already working there a few afternoons a week? Earth to Cam, have you not noticed that even the longest, strongest and best relationships only last about eight weeks in our high school! The way you’re talking, I wonder if you are going to dash out and get me a diamond engagement ring!”

  He blinks at me and nods slightly like that statement doesn’t sound crazy to him. “Again, what if you and I are meant to break all of the unwritten and written rules?”

  I sigh and lower my voice. “Look. Even if we did go out—when I actually—after hearing you talk, think I should have you arrested for stalking me or something—you are not allowed to think about the future and me in the same sentence.”

  He pulls in a breath. “So…you’re in?”

  I hold up a hand so he will stop talking. “I take one moment and one day at a time. Planning and expecting things to happen in the future—and to happen in a good way—points to heartache. I’ve learned that, in my world, tomorrows can mess you up. I’m only ever going to be about today where you and I are concerned. And, even if we only wind up friends at the end of this, if you dare to try to text me all night long, I will kill you. I love my sleep. So even then…one moment at a time—until 11PM—then we stop the clock.”

  He’s grinning now. “Okay. Okay? So answer my question. Are you in? With me?”

  I don’t answer as my breathing catches.

  *Pictures Cam on a billboard. His hair is all windblown like it is now and his hand’s reaching out. His smile says trust me. Text on the advertisement reads: Camden Campbell, GATEWAY DRUG TO PUBLIC MOCKING AND IRRESPONSIBLE, BAD LIFE CHOICES.*

  He goes on, “Let’s just explore a few more days of possibilities. You said it yourself. Moment by moment, day by day, right? And this has been a long string of really good moments making up one awesome day so far.”

  The little hairs at the back of my neck are tingling on each of his words.

  “What about the part where I’m heading to Ontario for my university years and you are off to the states to play football?” I challenge. “What about your current, popular cool-guy life and the part where I like to keep a very invisible and non-existent social profile? Have you considered the tidal-wave-level gossip that will hit if we show up suddenly—” My cheeks flush really hot as I go on, “holding hands in the school hallways?”

  He sighs. “No. I did not think about the gossip. I guess you’re right, though. It will be pretty intense.”

  “Unlike you, I can’t stomach being stared at, and you’ve got a flipping spotlight plus massive human entourage following you everywhere. Everyone knows a guy like you and a girl like me don’t match up on anything at all.”

  He steps back, looking really sad. “But we matched up on that kiss. And we have a huge, shared love for photography. And we’re only juniors, right? Who cares about university? I also think you’re being a hypocrite, because no way is obsessing about universities how people live minute by minute.”

  “I don’t obsess. I’ve set some serious goals and I’m going to reach them. Being anyone’s girlfriend was never part of my plan.”

  He runs a hand through his hair. “Things—goals—can change as other things and people move into focus. Even though the whole town thinks I’m going to the states to play football, it’s not what I want at all.”

  “It isn’t?” I blink, surprised.

  “No. That’s all my dad’s deal. I’m working on fixing it—getting out of his plans for me—so I don’t think our goals are actually as far apart as you might think. I’ve also got my eye on an art degree in Ontario. And,” he pauses, letting his gaze go over me in a way that’s making me blush all over again, “I think it’s obvious we match up on chemistry—or what did you call it—biology?”

  He smiles then, and those stupid butterf
lies are thrumming against my chest so loudly I’m surprised they don’t actually appear. It’s all I can do not to reach up and touch the part of my lower lip that’s still tingling from that last kiss.

  “We have the same sense of humor. And we’ve got Laura London to look after, don’t forget her. Plus there is this conversation between us which is huge, because we’ve gone heart-to-heart without too much freaking out, and I think it’s made us closer than ever.”

  I cross my arms and meet his gaze dead on. “First, let me clarify that I actually am completely freaking out right now. I’m just really good at hiding it. I also think you have the same talent. If we’re going to do this on any level we have to be honest with each other.”

  He nods. “Fine. I’m also freaking out a lot, but mostly because—crap—isn’t it obvious I’m terrified you are going to reject this whole idea?”

  “I’ve got more.”

  “What?”

  “Honesty stuff. I lied about the number of boys I’ve kissed because the real number is—zero. Or—one. As of today. One.” He bites his lip like he’s going to laugh as I add, “And I’d like to address the way you kissed me…”

  “The way we kissed each other really well, and for a very long time? Is that what you mean?”

  “Yeah. Okay. That.” I shake my head, trying to clear it. “I’m not going to be easy or anything like that if we do go out. Just because I threw myself at you doesn’t mean you’re about to get lucky.”

  “Of course not!”

  “Well, it seems like the only place we have to go after a kiss that amazing is somewhere scary and into something that I’m not quite ready to try. No way. Not even. I really want to take things slow. Slower than slow.”

  He grins. “Okay. Good to know. If you wanted to wait two years to kiss me again I’d be good with that too. You can make all the first moves, okay?”