This Is Falling(12)

“So, tell me something about yourself,” I say, wanting to get the focus away from me for a while. “Who is Nate—” I panic for a moment when I realize I don’t remember his last name. Instead of asking, I hold up a finger and pull my phone from my pocket to look up his Facebook message. “Preeter! Who is Nate Preeter?”

The way he laughs sets me at ease, and at that moment I realize I can no longer hear my heartbeat rattling in my own head.

“Ouch! I made like…no impression on you at all, did I?” he chuckles, and I flush a little, embarrassed that I forgot his last name.

“That’s not true. You made an impression. We just met, though, so that’s not fair. I can’t be expected to remember everything. I know your room number! That one stuck! Besides, I bet you don’t remember my full name.”

As soon as I issue that challenge, he leans forward on his elbows, and I get a good look into his eyes. They were mesmerizing in the dark, but here—in the full light of day—they are breathtaking. There’s a grayish hue to them, and when his brown and golden hair drapes over his forehead while he talks, I can’t help but awe at the contrast of the light and dark. I could get lost in his features, but suddenly his voice captures my attention.

“You’re Rowe Stanton, a freshman from Arizona, and you’re here with honors. You haven’t picked a major yet, though I can tell from the small things you said during our walk over here that you really like art. You should think about that. You used to play tennis, and I bet you could still kick my ass, and you don’t wear socks with your sneakers. I like that. It’s hot.”

He sits back when he’s done, and takes a long sip of water, the smirk on his lips peeking out from the sides of the glass. I feel naked in front of him. Granted, he didn’t really pull out anything very personal—except for the art comment, that one was pretty intuitive—but the fact that he’s locked away every fact I’ve given him makes me feel…something. And my heartbeat is suddenly pounding again in my eardrums, but for an entirely different reason.

“So, art, huh?” I say, trying to build a little distance from the fact that he just called me hot.

“Yeah. Art…you seem to be interested in it. You should think about that. And yes, Rowe.”

“Yes, what?” I gulp.

“I think you’re hot. You made an impression.”





Nate





Something tells me that if I put a pencil in her hand, Rowe would draw me a picture, and it would probably be the prettiest damn sketch I’ve ever seen. I wish there was a fast-forward button somewhere I could hit to get to her secrets. She keeps everything so guarded, and I feel like we’re playing a game of chess, the way she detours our conversation away from herself.

Our food is coming out—just my luck, the one time that kitchen is fast. Rowe doesn’t waste any time, and normally I’d love the fact that she doesn’t pick at her food. She wraps both hands around the bun of her burger and takes a bite that makes a serious dent. At this rate, she’ll be done and ready to go in about ten minutes.

“Hey, you know that gallery building we walked by at the end of campus?”

She shrugs, covering her mouth with her napkin while she chews, because her bite’s too big. She tries to get the word “yeah” out, but her speech is muffled by the fullness in her cheeks. She might be awesome.

“Right,” I laugh lightly, smiling at her and taking a giant bite of my burger so I can talk with a full mouth too. “They hab a arrrr show neck weeeeek. Wah a go?”

She completely stops chewing, shirks her shoulders up, and bunches her brow at me, staring. “Wha?”

I finish chewing and laugh more—when I do, she blushes a little, finally getting that I’m teasing her. She’s turning so red I start to feel bad, but then she surprises me, grabbing a handful of fries and taking a giant drink of her soda, chewing with her mouth open and looking me squarely in the eyes.

“Yah, arrr showwwww. I’ll gooooo,” she can’t quite finish her sentence without giggling uncontrollably and covering her mouth again with her napkin to keep her food from flying out. But I heard enough—just the right words. She’ll go. That means I’ve got her attention for at least another week.





Chapter 6





Rowe





I managed to finish lunch without having another freak out. And the more we walked and talked, the more comfortable I became with Nate. He felt familiar, like we had known each other since we were kids or something and were just catching up.

Maybe that’s because I kept the spotlight on him. I asked about his baseball playing, and I found out he started with tee-ball at three. His brother used to play, too. In a few of the stories he told, he mentioned his brother running and playing with him, and I know something must have happened to put him in the wheelchair, but I didn’t feel comfortable enough to ask about that.

He talked about his childhood home, and he asked about mine. Louisiana and Phoenix don’t sound so different, only his summers sound more humid. My past stayed on my childhood, talking about my embarrassing first-day meltdown in kindergarten where I protested the coloring exercise and made the teacher call my dad to take me home…and my first slow dance with a boy, where he blew a bubble with his gum and it got stuck in my hair, leading to my first short haircut.