This Is Falling(13)

He seemed to soak up everything I said, and I found myself wanting to keep talking, telling him more. And a few times, I thought of stories I could share. But they were stories about Betsy and Josh. Nate doesn’t need to hear those, and I’m not ready to give them away.

His brother was waiting for him at the elevator, so I came upstairs alone. All it took was a few seconds in my own head for me to second guess everything—promising myself I’d distance from him after today, making sure he didn’t have the wrong idea or think I could give him more than I can. I need to remember that Nate isn’t any different from Cass—a new friend. No matter how he makes my insides feel.

Cass and I have been swapping music for the last two hours while Paige gets ready in the bathroom. The freshman mixer is tonight, and I saw them setting up for it in the gym when I left with Nate earlier. Cass is making me go, and I think if I refused she would throw me over her shoulder and carry me.

I really like her. I think we have a lot in common, at least, the few things about me that are left. Our music libraries are almost identical, and she wants to go to Austin for South-by-Southwest this year. I’ve always wanted to go to a music festival, too, but that’s just not in my cards. I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours talking myself out of dropping out of college. I don’t think a road trip will be possible until I can master a semester or two.

“So, how was your…lunch,” Cass asks, making air quotes around the word lunch, which I don’t really understand.

“It was fine. He seems nice,” I say, noticing Paige is paying attention to us now.

“Riiiiight. Nice,” Cass teases, and I just shake my head.

“We’re friends. That’s all.”

“Hmmmmm, yeah. Same with Ty and me. Of course, I still kissed him,” she says, standing to her feet the second she speaks and covering her mouth while it hangs open in a big O, her eyes wide.

“You slut,” Paige butts in, “I knew you liked that guy. But he’s in a wheelchair?”

Cass shrugs a so what, but I kind of want to kick Paige. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to understand how she and Cass are sisters.

“Yeah, well, you can have that guy. Just keep your hands off his brother,” Paige says. My body fires up defensively, but I keep my eyes down, thumbing through my music on my iPod. I can feel Cass looking at me, and I’m forcing myself to control my breathing.

“Maybe Rowe can help you out there,” Cass says. “She and Nate are friends.”

My stomach is thumping with my own pulse, and I feel heat roll over my spine. I decide to keep my eyes down, because I know looking up will give something away. This is jealousy. I remember this emotion, too.

“Oh. My. God! You’re friends with Nate Preeter? He is so f*cking hot! How can you even stand it?” Paige continues to gush about Nate, his perfect abs, his eyes, his ass—she’s the female version of a Hooter’s patron. The more she talks about him, the more I wish I never met him at all, because then I wouldn’t have to be in this situation, feeling…gah! I don’t know what this is I’m feeling, and that’s part of the problem.

“I don’t know him that well,” I say, trying to get her to drop it.

“That’s okay. Just introduce us. He’ll remember me from the party when you do, and I can take it from there.”

I don’t answer her, but it doesn’t matter. She goes back to the closet, stripping out of the short dress she had on and opting for an even shorter one. Cass is looking at me again, but I can’t tell if she’s smiling or showing sympathy, because I won’t bring my eyes back up to deal with anything else that happens in this room tonight. Putting my headphones on, I turn up the volume on my iPod and close my eyes, lying back, and pretending to rest while my mind conjures up pictures of my fist in Paige’s face. And I hate that I feel this way.





Katy Perry is blasting from the speakers in the gym, and Paige is singing along loudly. Check—one more assumption confirmed. Nothing against Katy—she’s on my iPod, too. She’s just followed up by the Kings of Leon and The National. Maybe I’m a music snob, and it’s probably from two years of social isolation, but I just feel like a person who sings along with Katy Perry…in public, for attention…doesn’t have much else to offer.

Of course, the fact that I can see Paige’s nipples through the fabric of her dress begs to differ. Yes, she has two more things to offer, and she’s serving them up tonight. I just hope Nate’s not interested. Or maybe I don’t care. Maybe I hope he is interested so that way I can sum him up nicely too, and go back to putting my life back together.

“Thirty-three.” Nope, I definitely hope he’s not interested in Paige. His voice is deep and perfect; I couldn’t make his southern accent up if I tried.

“Heinz,” I say, instantly wishing I owned a dress like Paige’s. Not that I could ever fill it out like she does. Once again, I’m in denim shorts and a tank top. I pull the bottom of my shirt down to my pockets, making sure it covers my scars underneath.

“Heinz?”

“You know, Heinz Fifty-Seven?” My joke doesn’t feel as clever now, and I can see Paige rolling her eyes next to me, just waiting to steal the spotlight. Nate smirks and chuckles quietly; I feel pretty confident it was a pity laugh.