“You’re a light sleeper?”
“Not normally,” I respond, flicking the burner on and setting the full kettle atop the flame. I grab a mug and pull out the drawer to scan through the packets of tea. Anything to keep from making eye contact with Beck.
He catches my meaning. “I can sleep on the couch. My flight’s in a few hours, anyway.”
“It is?” My eyes dart to his azure ones, and I’m snared in his gaze, dammit.
“Yeah, it is,” Beck confirms.
“Guess I should be grateful you’re giving me more than an hour’s notice this time.” I shut the drawer. Hard. The whole kitchen is going to be in shambles by the time I brew myself a mug of glorified plant water.
“Fuck, Saylor.” Anger stirs in the blue depths I can’t look away from. “You can’t act pissed when I show up and when I say I’m leaving.”
“I wasn’t ‘pissed’ you showed up, I was surprised,” I retort. “Now I am pissed.”
“Because I wouldn’t fuck you?” Beck snaps.
“Because you say one thing and act the opposite!”
“At least I say things. You give me nothing at all!”
“That’s not true!”
“You left Germany without saying goodbye. You hardly said anything when I told you I wanted a relationship. You called me drunk and then didn’t answer a single one of my calls.” Beck ticks off my mistakes, and I can’t deny a single one of them.
“Don’t you get it? You weren’t supposed to mean anything, Beck!”
“Yeah, I got it,” he sallies.
“But you do.” I finally lay my cards down. “You mean a lot. So much it scares me.” Some of the anger finally retreats from his face. “I don’t want you to leave tomorrow.”
There’s a glimmer of affability. “That’s nice to hear. But…”
“You have to leave anyway,” I finish.
“Yeah. I do.”
“I want to believe you,” I inform him. “That you want this. That this can work.” Suddenly, it seems important he knows that.
“So believe me,” Beck says simply.
“I—It’s not that—” I start, but Beck doesn’t let me finish.
“You don’t walk on the field knowing you’re going to win, Saylor. You earn it. Fight for it. That’s all I’m asking. For you to try.” I open my mouth to speak, but he keeps talking, so I close it. “I know it’s a lot. I know people care where I go, who I sleep with. And I get that it would complicate your life, and I wish it wouldn’t. But…” He pauses, and I watch him teeter on the precipice. “I care what you think. I think about you the way other people think about me.”
It’s such a ridiculous metaphor I’m tempted to laugh, but I can’t. The words are too raw.
Too echt.
Too real.
Worming their way inside of me and gnawing away at my doubts and insecurities.
“Then why wouldn’t you…” My voice trails off when Beck rounds the edge of the island, caging me against the butcher-block countertop right next to the boiling kettle I should probably turn off.
“It seemed like sex might mean something different to me,” he tells me. “Might mean more.”
Emboldened by his honesty, I offer up a little of my own. “It wouldn’t,” I admit.
Beck’s face stays blank, but there’s a tic in his jaw that suggests it might take some effort to appear that way. “Earlier, what you said about being friendl—”
I know where he’s going with this. “I kept thinking about you,” I whisper.
He kisses me, shoving me against the counter and then lifting me atop it. I yank his shirt off, anxious to feast on the abs I was stroking earlier. We’re racing along faster than any speed limit would allow.
I rake my fingers through his soft hair.
Trail my fingers down his neck.
Dig my nails into his shoulders.
Bite on his bottom lip, spurring his own perusal along…
“Holy shit!”
Beck pulls away just enough so I can see Cressida standing in the doorway to the kitchen, wide-eyed and blushing. Wearing a matching pajama set patterned with penguins.
“Uh, hey,” I say. “What are you doing down here?”
“Just getting some water. Wasn’t expecting to walk in on a porno,” she comments, strolling over to the fridge and opening the stainless steel door. I jump down from the counter and turn off the burner, pouring the scalding water over the packet of herbs.
There’s a pounding sound on the stairs—Emma’s trademark.
“Put your shirt back on,” I hiss at Beck. He grins, completely unrepentant.
“I thought I heard—oh my God!” Emma appears in the kitchen and focuses on—no surprise—Beck’s admittedly impressive torso.
“Good night!” I call out, grabbing my mug in my left hand and one of Beck’s in my right. He glances back at the kitchen as I tug him toward the stairs. “If you hook up with any of my housemates, we’re never having sex again,” I inform him.
“That’s what you got out of our conversation? That I’m looking to hook up with someone else?” Any affability leaves Beck’s face.
“No. I just—I don’t know,” I admit, trying to pull together my scattered thoughts as we reenter my room. “I think…”
I didn’t have any impressive lines cued up, but Beck doesn’t wait to find out. In seconds, he’s pulled off my tank top and yanked down my shorts, walking me backward until I have no choice but to lie down on the comforter. I’m expecting him to plunge right into me, but he doesn’t.
It’s a continuation of the torture from earlier.
He kisses me. His tongue and lips assault my breasts, my neck, my chest. All while rubbing his massive erection against my inner thigh. Teasing me.
“Beck, please.” I let him hear the desperation in my voice. It’s not like he can’t tell I’m a wanton, writhing mess beneath him.
“Do you want me, Scott?” He’s never called me by my last name in bed, and the sound of it falling off his lips is surprisingly erotic.
“What the fuck does it seem like?”
There’s a flash of humor in those perfect blue eyes, but it’s extinguished like a doused flame. One hand slides between my thighs, and my hips jerk upward from the additional stimulation. If this were anyone else, I wouldn’t capitulate.
“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone,” I tell him, laying myself bare in more ways than one.
Beck unrolls a condom and then thrusts inside of me. I barely have the presence of mind not to cry out, muffling my moans against his shoulder.
Thoughts flee like dandelion pappuses in the wind. All that remains is sensation.
I’m aware of everything and nothing.
Thoughtless and overstimulated.
There’s the heat of his skin. The ripple of his abdominal muscles against my own stomach. The thick hair my hands are raking through.
I’m close, feeling trickles of ecstasy, when he slows, pumping into me at a leisurely pace. Languidly. I clench my inner muscles and feel the muscles in his back ripple as he responds.
He slides out of me, teasing me with the bulbous tip of his cock, and I let out a throaty gasp. Then he plunges back inside, and I’m over the cliff. Liquid hot pleasure courses through me as I light up like a supernova.
I watch Beck’s face tighten and then relax as he finds his own release.
He drops onto the comforter beside me.
“I want to try,” I whisper when I regain the ability to form a coherent sentence.
“What haven’t we tried?”
I smile, flipping over so we’re chest to chest again. I rest my chin in the groove between his pectoral muscles. “Plenty, but I’m not talking about sex.”
I feel his chest rumble with laughter. “What are you talking about?”
The words are playful, but there’s an undercurrent of curiosity that tells me what I need to say.
“I want to be in a relationship with you.” Beck do
esn’t say anything, just studies my face, peering so closely I’m sure he can see every pore. But that’s not why I’m shifting uncomfortably. That’s happening because I know there’s more I have to say. “I mean it. I’m not going to run. I’ll answer your calls. This is me jumping out of the plane, okay?”
Beck studies me for a little while longer. Finally, his expression changes. It’s not triumphant or indifferent. He looks hopeful, and I decide that’s perfect as I twist so I’m half-splayed atop him.
“Okay,” Beck says softly.
Hope never hurt anyone.
As long as you remember: hope isn’t always reality.
“Okay then. We’re in a relationship.” The words sound foreign, but not strange.
“Okay then,” Beck repeats.
I can’t see his face, but it feels like the emotion radiating from it is happiness.
Or maybe that’s just me.
Epilogue
The street is teeming with Adler Beck jerseys, and they’re not just topping torsos. They’re flapping from windows. Spread across tables that line the street leading to Kluvberg’s stadium. BECK is spray-painted repeatedly across the pavement we’re walking along.
“This is insane,” Hallie comments. Matt and our father nod their agreement. They’ve both met Beck before, but I guess meeting someone and seeing their name plastered on every visible surface are two different things.
Despite my many protests—mostly about how I’d enjoy myself more if they weren’t present—Beck insisted on flying my family to Germany for his final match of the season. Sandra remained behind at the hotel with Matthew Jr., but my father, Hallie, and Matt are all making the trip with me to Kluvberg’s stadium for the game.
I guess Beck might understand more than my stubbornness after eight months of officially dating, because I’m less irritated and more cheery as I watch my three companions take in the chaos the anticipation is effervescing. It is spectacular.
We reach the stadium, and I guide my companions to the side entrance. One flash of our badges is all it takes to bypass security and head through the tunnel toward the seats reserved for us. I don’t know if Beck requested these particular seats or they were just given to him, but we’re right on top of the field.
It’s insanity. Pandemonium. I’m watched plenty of clips of European football games, but this is the first one I’m witnessing in person. Television screens don’t convey the energy and excitement of a sold-out crowd.
I try to take it all in, but it becomes a blur. Anthems, announcements, applause. Once number twenty-three appears on the pitch, nothing else can hold my attention.
My father and Matt are content to just take the atmosphere in, but Hallie keeps pestering me with questions. Are they allowed to cross that line? What does the whistle mean? Is he going to score? I simply grunt in response to most of them, too focused to formulate an answer.
The first half is scoreless and mostly even. I dig my nails into my palm for the start of the second.
“This is much more exciting than I expected it to be,” Hallie announces as the noise level in the stadium rises again.
I roll my eyes. Sometimes, I’m not sure how we’re related.
Ten minutes into the second period, I watch Beck steal the ball from Portugal’s star striker just past the center line. “Go, go, go,” I whisper.
He does, dodging defenders with a beauty and grace even an impartial viewer would appreciate. I’m the furthest thing from one. Not only am I invested in the sport, I’m invested in him.
Not because he’s the most famous footballer in the world.
Because he calls me every night before I go to bed, despite the fact that it’s the middle of the night for him.
Because he sent me a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream on the anniversary of my mother’s departure, so I didn’t have to go buy it myself.
Because I’m completely, devastatingly in love with him, even if I haven’t told him so.
One powerful kick, and Kluvberg is winning. Beck’s surrounded by his teammates. Noise I didn’t think could get any louder rises exponentially, filling the stadium with cheers I imagine overflowing the stadium and flooding all of Kluvberg.
“Oh my God!” Hallie screams. “He scored! He actually scored!”
I’m too busy cheering to laugh at her out loud, but I definitely do inside.
The rest of the game is a nail-biter. Both teams have chances to score. One kick by Portugal almost finds the back of the net, but Herrmann snags it from midair.
Two minutes are added for extra time. My stress level shoots through the roof. Metaphorically, since the stadium is open air.
But those one hundred and twenty seconds pass, and Kluvberg is still ahead when they officially expire.
I sit in shocked silence as the jubilation resonating around the stadium slowly registers, rising and rising and rising like an ocean tide that can’t be contained.
“They won,” I say to myself.
“Get out there!” Hallie urges.
“How?” I break through my daze and look around at the euphoric fans surrounding us. I’ve seen photos of players on the field with loved ones after a major victory, but I’ve never seen how that actually takes place, logistically speaking.
“Um, the field is right there.” Hallie gestures forward.
“I’m definitely not supposed to climb over the barricade, Hallie.”
She smiles. “Since when has that ever stopped you?”
Fair. And Hallie doesn’t even know about my illicit first trip here.
So I do just that, leaping over the plastic fencing. Portugal is standing in shocked disbelief. Kluvberg is celebrating. They’re a huddled mass around the one person I want to see. Eventually, they clear. Thankfully, it’s before security hauls me off the field.
Beck spots me and grins, and that smile is the release I’ve been waiting for. I sprint, not caring who’s watching us. We could be on the fucking jumbotron for all I care right now.
He catches me, barely moving, despite my momentum.
“Holy shit! You won!” I shout the words so he can hear them over the pandemonium.
Pure euphoria is painted over Beck’s perfect features. Some amusement blends in as he takes a few steps back, taking us to the fringes of the celebration where it’s a few decibels quieter. “You know you could have just shown your badge to get on the field, right?”
“Obviously not.”
“I told you last night,” Beck informs me.
“You were naked. I was distracted.”
He chuckles. “Or you like trespassing.”
“I’m not trespassing. You just said I have permission.” I grin triumphantly. “It was a grand gesture, okay?”
“I’m blown away.”
“Yeah, you look it,” I comment. But he doesn’t. He looks sweaty and happy and gorgeous. And the knowledge that he’s also mine swells and swells inside me until it pushes out the words I’ve been afraid to utter until right now. “Ich liebe dich.”
Those three words just sit, encasing us in a bubble of silence amongst the celebration that surrounds us.
“What?” Beck asks. Now he does look stunned. Ten minutes ago, he was sprinting across the field like a god, and now he looks so startled a light breeze could knock him over. I don’t even think he’s trying to draw this out or get me to say it again. I think I genuinely took him completely off guard.
“Did I pronounce it wrong?” I roll my eyes, even though it’s totally possible. “I love you, Beck.” I say the unfamiliar words with a little more conviction this time, because I actually know what I’m saying, and I’m rewarded with a crooked grin that grows and grows until it transforms the handsome features I now know better than my own.
“Ich liebe dich auch. I love you, too,” Beck replies, and I realize why he looked so completely gobsmacked seconds ago. Because it’s one thing to hear others exchange those words, or to say them in different combinations.
It’s another mat
ter entirely to have someone say them to you.
To hear them ring with sincerity.
“Uh, okay then.” I flash him a giddy smile that betrays any indifference my casual words convey.
“Okay then,” he echoes, still grinning. “This is alleviating a lot of worries about the surprise proposal I planned for tonight.”
That gets my attention. “You didn’t.” I study his face, trying to draw the truth out of those chiseled features.
“I don’t know. Did I?” Blue eyes dance.
“I’ll turn you down.”
A broad grin splits stone, transforming from teasing to delight. “Yeah, right,” Beck scoffs.
He’s got reason to be confident. Ever since I agreed to give us a try, his record on convincing me to say yes is pretty spotless. Even disallowing his dirtier tricks.
“Guess you’ll just have to ask me and find out then,” I challenge.
Beck accepts it with a smirk. “Okay, I will.”
“Okay,” I volley back.
Beck takes a step closer to me, compressing our little bubble further. “What did you think of the game?”
“Let’s go find a storage closet, and I’ll show you.”
Beck chuckles as he uses my waist to tug my body flush with his. “I love you, Saylor Scott.”
There are a dozen witty quips waiting on my tongue, but for once I opt for sincerity. “I love you, Adler Beck.”
He kisses me. In the very spot where we first met.
And this time, I don’t critique.
I don’t deflect.
I don’t flee.
For the first and final time, I let myself fully fall.
The End
Author’s Note
Thank you so much for taking the time to read First Flight, Final Fall. I hope you enjoyed Saylor and Beck’s story!
Please take a moment to rate or review this book. It’s an irreplaceable way to help me reach new readers, but more importantly, I’d love to hear your thoughts!
All the best,
First Flight, Final Fall Page 28