The Girl I Was Before (Falling #3)(45)

Don’t worry, Paige. I didn’t see a thing.

We’re about halfway back to the house, the only sound a commercial playing on the radio, and some haphazard humming coming from Leah in the back seat, when Paige finally talks. “I hate bullies,” she says, her eyes staring straight out the front window.

“Me too,” I say, keeping my gaze on her while we wait at the red light. She never turns to look at me, and she never looks nervous that I’m staring at her. I know she can feel my eyes on her; I catch hers moving to take me in once or twice from the side. But she lets me look, and she doesn’t elaborate on her statement. I don’t ask, but I wonder who was the bully in her life—and maybe, was it her?



Paige



“We’re all going to Sally’s for dinner. I thought maybe you’d like to come?” Cass asks. I wasn’t going to answer her call, but I’m walking to campus, and I have to pass the row of frat houses. There are always people hanging outside, and I’d rather be busy on the phone than run into someone I know.

“Oh, uhm…thanks,” I say, kind of surprised that my sister is asking. I had a feeling that the progress we made at home would stop once we got to school. Maybe she just wants to thank me for helping her prank the guys. “I would love to, but I can’t. I have…plans…” I fade my words at the end, suddenly worried I’ve said too much. Cass doesn’t know where I’m living. She doesn’t know much of anything about me right now. “Delta thing,” I add quickly, straightening my posture as I lie through the phone, as if she could see me.

“Oh, okay. Maybe…maybe later this week?” she asks. I feel bad.

“For sure,” I say, looking to my right at a group of guys sitting on one of the front porches. They watch me walk by, and I hear one of them say something to the others; I’m pretty sure one of the words was ass. I step a little longer, but I also let my hips move a little more.

I’m not sticking around, boys, but you’re welcome to watch.

Cass says goodbye, and I push my phone in my purse, glad that I was able to stretch my conversation with my sister long enough to make it to campus. I pull the folded campus map from my front purse-pocket, noting the buildings I’ve highlighted. I walk to the first two, relieved when I realize how close they are to each other. They’re different from the buildings I went to last semester, but they’re all familiar. I hate feeling lost. I move to the last one, my Friday lab class, the farthest one from where I’m living now. At least the class is in the late morning, so I won’t have to walk through campus at night.

Satisfied that I can find my way Monday, I begin my trip back to Houston’s house…my house. I’m nearing the library when I see Houston sitting on one of the concrete blocks outside the main doors. I stop immediately. I’m not sure why I stop, but I do, because he’s here, and I have a feeling he’s here waiting for me. That’s not okay. I don’t want him here waiting for me.

I pull out my phone and fire off a text.

What are you doing here?



I wait and watch as he pulls his phone out of his pocket, then gets to his feet, looking in all directions until he spots me. His shoulders slump, and he pulls his phone up in both hands in front of him, his fingers working while he walks slowly in my direction. Oh no, buddy. You stay put!

Something came up, I didn’t want you to go home and see the house empty, or freak out or…can we just talk in 15 seconds?



I’m reading his words and taking slow steps backward when I hear his voice.

“Paranoid much?” he asks.

“Stalker much?” I say back. He smirks, then pushes his phone back into his pocket.

“My mom called. She has to work late. Church is having a carnival. Leah found out, so she wanted to go. I just dropped her off with my mom, but I didn’t want you to think we abandoned you, so…” he says, holding his hands out as if he just performed some amazing magic trick and appeared here in a puff of smoke.

“So, you came to rescue me,” I say through pursed lips.

“Uh…yeah, I guess,” he says.

“I don’t need rescuing,” I fire back, pulling my purse over my body. My shoulder hurts, and I’m tired of carrying it. I want to go home.

“No rescues. Got it,” he says, taking a deep breath. We start to walk back in the direction of his place, and I rewind what just happened in my head. I may have overreacted a little.

“Sorry,” I say, under my breath. “I’m a little…stressed, maybe?”

I’m not stressed. I’m angry, and I’m sad, and I’m confused. I’m a lot of things, but none of them are really very happy. I glance to where Houston is walking next to me, his thumbs in his pockets. He’s wearing the same jeans he wore last night.

“Don’t you own other pants?” I ask through a laugh.

He stretches his hands out, leaving his thumbs in his pockets, and I move my eyes up to his quickly, not wanting to stare at his hips, his zipper, his…crotch.

“My closet can’t compete with yours,” he says, his eyes narrowing on me.

My pace relaxes, and we continue to walk slowly through the main part of campus, the more steps we take, the more relaxed I become, and the more ridiculous I feel about snapping at him in the first place.