This Is Falling(26)

“You tell me, Rowe. Elevator or stairs?”

“Huh?” she asks, her voice muffled from the blood rushing to her head.

“I’m not letting go of you, but I’m taking you outside. You’re lucky I’m giving you a choice—elevator or stairs? Me? I’d pick elevator. Because I’m not so sure I can balance down three flights with your long-ass legs kicking at me.”

“Elevator,” she says, her body going limp.

“Good choice,” I say, marching her over to the button and waiting for the elevator to open. There are a few people inside, and they all move out of the way when I get in with her.

“Chick painted my room pink. Payback. You know, they’re a bitch?” I say, hitting the button to close the door.

“What do you mean payback?” Rowe asks, her head behind me and still upside down.

“Oh, you’re going to find out sweetheart. Just you wait,” I say, not really sure where I’m taking her, but just out-of-my-mind excited to have her in my arms, even if it is a bit like kidnapping.

“Nate? No…you’re making me nervous,” she says, but she’s still giggling, so I push on. The elevator opens, and I walk quickly to the main door. As soon as I get it open, I take off in a sprint, and her arms and legs start kicking and slapping at me again.

“You’re going to make me drop you!” She’s lifting up the back of my shirt, and I swear I feel something wet. “Did you…did you just lick me?”

And oh my god the mischievous laugh she lets out when I ask her that. I know she thinks she’s being a badass and sneaky, but f*ck me! That laugh? Her tongue on my skin? She’s being sexy as hell, and she doesn’t even have a clue. I slow to a walk, but I keep carrying her. The ball fields are only a few hundred yards away, which gives me an idea.

“Rowe, I feel I have to tell you this. We’re close enough that I think you deserve honesty. Putting your tongue on me is in no way, whatsoever torture. It’s pretty much the shit I’ve been dreaming about since the night I ran into you in the hallway. So unless you’re prepared to follow through with what your tongue suggests in my mind, I’d encourage you to keep it in your pretty little mouth.”

I feel her body stiffen a little when I finish, and she’s no longer laughing. But I also don’t think she’s mad. Her muscles finally relax when I cut through the back gate at the ball field. I can hear it, but I don’t think she can because she’s upside down. I probably only have a few more minutes to catch it, so I tell her to hang on and I jog with her over my shoulder into centerfield.

When I hear it stop for a second, I pull her back over my shoulder and let her feet touch the ground. Immediately, she tries to run, so I pull her into my chest, her face away from me, and I lock her arms in tightly.

“Uh uh. Time to face the music,” I say, and on the perfect cue the outfield sprinklers kick on, soaking her body, hair, and shorts with every pass. I’m soaking wet too, but I don’t care. I would walk through fire to hold her in front of me like this. And then, a remarkable thing happens.

I let my arms loosen their grip, and Rowe slips away from me, but she doesn’t run. She just stretches her arms out to her sides and looks up, her hair dripping wet, and her face glistening from the water beading up on her skin. She starts spinning slowly in a circle, laughing. And then it’s there—the smile. The same look she had on her face in that picture. It’s joy. And I just gave it to her.

My god, do I want to give it to her again.





Rowe





The water is so cold that I start to shiver, but I don’t care. I keep spinning and laughing. Maybe I’m having a nervous breakdown. Whatever this is, I don’t care—I feel free and honestly happy. A real moment of happiness, uninterrupted, and Nate just stands there watching me and waiting.

His smile is spectacular. He’s like those faces I see in my magazines, when I flip through ads of people in love. The way the man looks at a woman in the perfume ads—that’s his face, right now, for me. I don’t want it to go away, but I know it has to, and the second I start to let my reality creep in, my happiness fades.

I stop spinning, but I force my smile to stay in place, because I don’t want to go back to those other feelings just yet.

“You’re beautiful; you know that?” My breath is gone with his words. Nate can’t think I’m beautiful. I’m not—I’m scarred and ugly.

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” I ask, my posture dipping, and my hands coming back to that familiar place around my waist, squeezing tightly.

“Don’t refuse to listen to me,” he says, stepping closer. I step back, but with every two I take, he takes three, until he’s touching me, his hands gripping my elbows. “You’re freezing.”

“I’m fine,” I say, not wanting this moment to end. I’m so terrified of it—so unbelievably afraid of this conversation continuing. But I haven’t wanted anything in so long. And right now, all I want is this—this time right now, alone with Nate.

His hands slide up my arms to my neck, and soon his hands are cradling my face. My teeth are chattering, but I’m begging them to behave. I can feel Nate’s breath he’s so close to me, and for a moment, I think he might kiss me. Instead, he steps back and pulls his long-sleeved shirt over his body and slips it around my head, holding it out for me to tuck my arms inside.