This Is Falling

by Ginger Scott

  As soon as class is over, I slide my notebook and textbook into my backpack, swinging it over my shoulder before heading to the main exit.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m a big Diet Coke drinker. Forty-four-ouncer sounds mighty nice right about now.” It’s the voice, the one from behind me. I was so much less intimidated when I thought it belonged to the thin, awkward, geeky guy who usually sits there. I’ve seen this guy before, because, well, I’m not blind. He’s not Nate, but he’s pretty damn good looking. Blond hair, broad shoulders, and now I know he has green eyes to go along with the complete package. He always wears tight T-shirts, and I’m pretty sure he does nothing but lift weights—because I can see every ab muscle through the cotton of his shirt.

  “You don’t really have to buy me a drink, you know. I was happy to help,” he says, leaning in toward me with a wink. His eyes run down my body once, but quickly. I don’t think he wanted me to notice, but I did, and it makes me feel a mixture of heat and uneasiness all at once.

  “Well, I was just heading home, but if you don’t mind stopping at the snack stand on my way, I’d love to treat,” I say, instantly wondering if this is flirting. I don’t want to flirt. But he’s cute, and he did something nice for me, and I am pretty sure I seem like I’m flirting. This is not flirting!

  He smiles at me sideways while we walk toward the center of campus, squinting slightly when the sun cuts through the line of trees on either side of us. “All right, I’ll take you up on it,” he says, the unmistakable grin on his face confirming that yes, this is in fact flirting.

  We stop at the small snack bar near the library, and I order us both large sodas. I give him his, carefully, so our hands don’t touch during the exchange. Why am I even thinking about this? Worrying about things like hands brushing, and smiles, and the fact that he’s looking at me like that again?

  “I’m Tucker,” he says, reaching his hand in front of us while we start to walk again. Shit, I’m going to have to touch him.

  “Hi. I’m Rowe.” I take his hand quickly and regroup my focus on my drink—also trying not to freak out over the fact that I’m pretty sure Tucker is now walking me home.

  “Rowe. That’s a cool name,” he says, once again glancing at me sideways, this time holding the straw in his perfect, white teeth while he smiles. He’s cute. No, scratch that—he’s McConnell frat-boy-calendar hot. And a different me, a version without any issues, a me without a boy that I am pretty sure I want to love for a really long time, if not forever, would revel in the fact that hot-man-on-campus Tucker is obviously interested in me…in that way. But instead, all I keep thinking about is how I can lose him before we make it all the way to my building.

  “Well, Tucker. Again, thank you so much for the help in class today,” I say, reaching to shake his hand before I cross the street to my dorm—like a business deal. He just laughs lightly while shaking his head, then shakes my hand back and pulls his backpack up on his shoulder.

  “You got it, Rowe. Hey, I’ll see ya in class next week,” he says walking backward and leaving his eyes on me. “And thanks for the drink! Next one’s on me.”

  “Sounds good.” Sounds good? No, it sounds awful, awkward, uncomfortable, stressful, unfortunate, and pretty much like the last thing I want to have happen. But the walk sign is now blinking, and Tucker has turned around, so I pick up my step and head for the front door to the dorm before he can see where I’m headed.

  “Who’s mister hottie?” I hear Cass say as I round the corner to the front door to the lobby.

  “Ahhhhh, okay. Uh, I need to have a serious talk with you and Nate about scaring me. Honestly, I’m thinking of making you two wear bells.” I keep my pace up and head to the elevator bank, but Cass is right in step with me.

  “Right, got it. Won’t scare you. Now spill it about mister pecks and abs,” she says, pulling her sunglasses down on her nose to give me the full effect of her raised and suspicious eyebrows.

  “How did you even see him?”

  “Oh, easy. I was walking in with Nate, and he saw you both across the street. Then I stayed to watch for a while longer…pretty much because I’m super nosy, and I wanted to see what had him so pissed off. I get it now. That guy’s hot.”

  Uhg. Nate witnessed that. I’m pretty sure I ceased any and all flirting immediately, but still. I wouldn’t be happy if it were Nate walking home with the female equivalent of Tucker. There’s a small piece of me that likes that Nate is jealous. We don’t talk about our feelings much, and I know that’s partly my fault. We talk about my fears mostly, and we’ve broken through so many of them. But we don’t talk about how he feels about me, and how I feel about him. Not really.

  There was that brief moment, where he told me he loved me in the car on our way back from the airport, and when he said those words, my entire heart filled up with a joy I didn’t know existed. But then it left me just as fast—when he said he didn’t mean it. And I’m too afraid to open up that conversation again. Because I don’t know how to be in a relationship—when you’re not sixteen, and in high school, and going on dates that require you to be home before ten on weekends.

  I told Josh I loved him almost immediately. We both said the words while making out in my driveway. But I know now we didn’t really mean them then. I meant them eventually, months after we’d been dating, when I realized how important and special he was to me. But I must have said them a hundred times before, and every time they were empty. I think that’s why I’m so afraid to say them to Nate, because I don’t want him to say them back just because he thinks he has to—like lines in a play, a reaction to my action. I don’t want this to be like when I was sixteen.

  “So, I’m pretty sure you’re going to have to deal with that conversation with mister hottie,” Cass says to me as the elevator slides open, and she steps outside. She sees Nate waiting outside our door first, and when I step out and see him, shivers run down the length of my entire body. He. Looks. Pissed!

  The closer I get, the more he tries to force coolness, but I can see there’s something simmering underneath. He kisses my cheek quickly, then sits backward at my desk chair, his legs wrapped around either side, and his knees bouncing up and down, just teeming with jealous energy.

  I toss my backpack on my bed and pull my shoes from my feet before crawling up next to it, getting out my notebooks. Cass, obviously feeling the tension, just smiles at Nate with a nod and then leaves our room, actually shutting the door behind her. Oh god.

  “What time do you think we should leave?” I ask trying my best to pretend like everything about the atmosphere in our room is normal.

  “I don’t know, it takes an hour to get there, so five-ish?” His knees are still bobbing. I can see the motion from the corner of my eyes.

  “Okay, I don’t need to do much to get ready, so we can still eat something before we leave.”

  “I’m not that hungry,” he says.

  Oh.

  And now we have silence. I’m busying myself flipping through pages of my notebooks, pretending to look for something, just to avoid eye contact, and Nate’s knees are still jumping, and his eyes are still on me, and there’s still this awful awkwardness. And then suddenly they stop, and Nate stands.

  “All right, just come by when you’re ready,” he says before quickly escaping through the door. The second it shuts behind him, I flop down on my back. What the hell? Cass comes back in a few minutes later.

  “Girl, what did you do to that boy?” she asks.

  “Honestly, I have no idea. He just sat here, silent, but edgy. I mean SUPER edgy. And then he left.”

  “Awe, jealousy is cute on him,” she says, crawling up next to me and laying her head next to mine. I just look at her with my eyes wide. “You should use this. I bet you could get him to do anything you want right now.”

  “Okay, when did Paige take over your body? Bring back Cass,” I say, standing to change into a comfortable pair of jeans and a blue shirt for the basketball game. />
  “Hey, we are twins. Some of those characteristics are genetic,” she winks.

  Shaking my head at her, I pull on a clean shirt and work my hair into a loose ponytail, suddenly wanting to make myself as plain as possible—so no other boy notices me ever and Nate can start acting normal again.

  Nate

  “Dude, what crawled up your ass?” Ty asks when I shove through our door, popping the handle with enough heat to lodge it against the opposite wall. I pry it loose and close the door again behind me, then I let my head fall forward against it.

  “Ohhhhh you know, just lost my shit a little seeing Rowe with some bodyguard-looking dude,” I say, rolling my head to the side to look at Ty with a raised brow.

  “Ha. You’re jealous. That’s funny,” Ty says, going back to whatever he’s working on at his laptop.

  “Uh, it’s not funny. And I hate it. And I’m pretty sure Rowe doesn’t like me like this either.”

  “Yeah, well, then maybe she won’t go hanging out with…what did you call him? Bodyguard-lookin’ dudes?” Ty’s not quite teasing me, but there’s a little bite to his comment.

  “He was just big, that’s all,” I say, not really wanting to go into how good-looking he was, knowing that would just send Ty into fits of laughter.

  “The girl practically got you floor seats to the Thunder game, and she’s over here more than she’s anywhere else. You’ve got nothing to worry about, unless…have you closed that deal yet?”

  Silence. I keep my back to him while I pull out my sweatshirt.

  “You’re kidding me!”

  “She’s different, Ty. This isn’t some girl from summer ball that I’m using to forget about Sadie. She’s…more,” I turn back away from him, hoping like hell I’m going to get serious-Ty and not the asshole that also inhabits his body. When he doesn’t say anything for a while, I start to relax.

  Ty doesn’t say another word, and when Cass comes over, the two of them sit quietly, studying. Rowe comes about a half hour later, and despite all of the sense I’ve talked myself into since I left her room, the minute I see her, my selfish, king-of-the-jungle, pound-on-my-chest instincts move right back inside my body.

  She’s wearing a pair of tight jeans, black Converse shoes, and a thin, blue T-shirt. I know she’s going to get cold later, but I don’t want to tell her, because I want her to have to wear my sweatshirt—something of mine. And I want bodyguard-guy to run into us while she’s in it, so we can clear that shit up right then and there.

  “You look nice,” I say, doing my best to push the beast that wants to pound his chest back inside. She leans into me, and I kiss her cheek, pulling her close to my side. Her hair is pulled back, and all I want to do is bite her neck.

  “Okay, look for us on TV,” she says to Cass, and I reach down to hold her hand again. My teammate Reece was nice enough to let me borrow his car again so I could drive us into the city. I was starting to think I needed to bring my car up from home just so I didn’t have to rely on others so much. It wasn’t a big deal when it was just Ty and I, but now that I want to do things like take Rowe places, it just seems to make sense. I think Ty would like it if I had my car here, too. It’s modified so he can drive it.

  Rowe is biting at her lip when we get in the car, and I can tell she’s nervous. I know the crowd is going to be a big deal for her. I tried to talk her out of coming, but I know she wants to prove to herself that she can do this.

  “I’ll be right next to you, the entire time,” I say, reaching for her fingers again as I back out of the parking spot. She just smiles nervously.

  For the entire drive, we talk about nonsense. Rowe tells me stories about spending Thanksgivings at her grandparents’ farm up North, and I talk about our non-traditional ones with my parents, where we order in a bunch of things that have no relationship to turkey whatsoever. She likes the rambling stories I tell, and I think it’s setting her mind at ease, so I just keep talking. But inside, all I’m thinking about is that asshole that walked her home, and how I want to ask her about him. But I know now is definitely not the time—it wouldn’t come out right.

  The parking lot is packed, so we find a spot near the roadway. We have to walk far, but at least the exit is close, assuming a line of traffic doesn’t block our car in when we leave. The closer we get to the entrance, the tighter Rowe is holding my hand, until eventually my knuckles are actually turning white.

  “Rowe, we don’t have to do this. I would be just as happy spending the next hour driving home with you, and then we can stop to get Sally’s or something,” I say, my heart breaking from the terrified look in her eyes as we stand along the sidewalk while hundreds of people pass us. The crowd is so thick, people bump into our shoulders, and Rowe closes her eyes every time it happens.

  “Come on, what do you say?” I ask, urging her, almost begging her, to let us leave. Her mouth opens slightly, and she’s about ready to speak, when a voice fills the space behind me.

  “Nate? Preeter? Is that…you?”

  You have to fucking be kidding me? My heart has just lodged itself into that uncomfortable place in my throat, the spot that makes it hard to talk or breathe. The look on Rowe’s face has shifted from terrified to confused, and in a split second I see the suspicion take over her face—and she’s right.

  “Sadie. Wow,” I say, turning to fully take in the all-too-familiar vision in front of me. She’s wearing a pair of really short black shorts and black heels. She’s my height, maybe an inch taller than me in those shoes; while I see in her eyes the girl I gave my everything to in high school, her body is different—older, more…fuck, I don’t know. Just more.

  “What are you doing here?” she says, reaching for me to give me a hug. I let go of Rowe’s hand to hug her back, but when I reach for Rowe again, her hands are stuffed deep in her pockets. Shit!

  “Oh, it’s…well, a late birthday celebration, I guess? We just came for the game,” I sound like an idiot. I’m too panicked to even think straight, and I wish like hell Rowe would give me her damn hand again. “Mom and Dad said you’re playing for OSU?”

  “Yeah, it was just a really great opportunity. That’s what I’m doing here tonight. They’re announcing us at halftime—some publicity something or whatever,” she says, her eyes drifting over my shoulder every few seconds while she talks, and eventually my brain gets the message.

  “Cool. Oh, this is my friend Rowe. We met at McConnell.” I know they’re the wrong words the second the sound of my own voice hits my ears, but it’s like an avalanche—I pushed a rock from the top of the mountain, and now all I can do is watch it tear down the snow in its path. The two girls—the only two I have ever cared about—are shaking hands in front of me, and the one I love is giving me a glance that says I just broke her heart.

  “Well, I’ve gotta go catch up with the girls. Maybe I’ll see ya again,” Sadie says, reaching to give me one more hug. I don’t know what to do with my arms, and all I can think about is how I can signal to Rowe that this—that Sadie—is meaningless, despite the massive mess that just spilled out of my mouth.

  “Let’s go get our seats,” Rowe says, brushing past me and following in Sadie’s wake. On the bright side, her fears seem to be gone. There isn’t a trace of the nervous girl I was worried about just a few minutes ago. But something cold has definitely filled her space, and it’s my damn fault.

  We get to our seats, and I notice Sadie is sitting across from us with her team. She waves at us, and I hold up a hand to signify that I do in fact see her too. Seriously, universe—not cool. Not cool!

  Rowe’s arms are covered in goosebumps, and I know she’s cold, so I offer her my sweatshirt, but she just shrugs me off and says she’s fine. She doesn’t even fake a smile. She shivers through the entire first quarter, just to prove a damn point.

  “Rowe, please. Just take my sweatshirt,” I say, pulling it over my head and handing it to her.

  “I would kind of rather die,” she says, her smile a tight flat line.
Fuck.

  “I’m going to get something to drink. You want something?” I say, standing, almost ready to run I’m so uncomfortable. Rowe just shakes her head no and crosses her legs in the other direction. I let out a heavy sigh and make my way to the aisle. At least she seems comfortable with the crowd.

  While I wait in a line that literally wraps around the building’s insides, I pull out my phone to text Ty.

  Me: You’re never going to believe what happened.

  Ty: You ran into Sadie.

  Me: Uh, how’d you know?

  Ty: I’m watching the game with Cass. They did an interview with the OSU coach before the game, and the team was in the background.

  Me: Super.

  Ty: I’m guessing it didn’t go well?

  Me: I’m pretty sure Rowe wants to choke me. Or punch me. Or both.

  Ty: Should she?

  Me: Probably.

  Ty: Tell her I’ll hold you down.

  Me: Thanks.

  Ty: Hey, that’s what brothers are for. Oh, and Sadie looks hot.

  Me: Not helping.

  Ty: Didn’t say I was good at helping. Just holding you down for beatings.

  Me: Thanks…again

  Ty: Anytime

  I order a large soda and some Red Vines and make my way back to our seats a few minutes before halftime. Of course, just to make sure I feel the full brunt of the universe’s punishment for me, when I turn down our row, Sadie is now sitting in my seat—talking to Rowe.

  “Oh, sorry. I was just waiting for you to get back. Really nice to meet you Rowe,” Sadie says, sliding past me and kneeling in the aisle while I take my seat next to Rowe. “I wanted to let you know my parents are coming up in a couple weeks for our home match up with Oklahoma. They’d love to see you I’m sure. Just…if you can make it.”

  “Thanks, I have a few fall tournaments coming up, so I don’t know if I can make it. But…we’ll see,” I say, trying to be polite. That’s the problem—I’m too damn polite, and I can tell I said the wrong thing again by the way Rowe’s weight shifts next to me.