This Is Falling(38)

Paige steps out from the closet, her eyes wide and centered on me; I realize she’s not really in on the same joke Cass and I are, and then I realize that yeah, I’m probably being really insensitive and maybe a little bit crazy right now. But I don’t f*cking care.

“Rowe, if you’re making this up, I swear to god I will smack you. That’s not nice, and it isn’t funny,” she says, her hand on her hip, which only makes my laugh break through again.

“Oh, Paige. If only this were a joke,” I say, my tears half from laughing and half from the truth, and the escape feels euphoric.





Once I calmed myself down, I shared the photos with Paige, too. She was a lot more serious in her response than Cass, more like my parents and others from my hometown. She was sympathetic and kind, but I think I kind of liked Cass’s response better. I need more people to treat me like that—normal.

Paige told us she was moving out next week to the Delta house, and I could tell Cass was happy about that. I think she relished the idea of not being a twin for a while, not that there was anything remotely similar about her and her sister. Surprisingly, though, Paige’s departure made me feel a little sad. She was more than her appearances, and I felt like I was just getting to know the real her.

Paige left in the late afternoon for a date—apparently she moved on quickly from her crush on Nate to a member of the football team. For the last hour, I’ve been sitting still, watching Cass try on outfits for the dinner I was half-invited to, and when Cass realizes I’m not getting ready, she questions me.

“Are you just going like that?” She motions to my shorts and plain blue tank top.

“I’m not sure Nate really wants me to go. He was sort of…I don’t know, weird about it,” I say.

“Hmmmm,” Cass says, reaching for my hand to pull me up to a stand in front of her. When I’m fully up, she slings my arm forward, pushing me toward my clothes in the closet and slapping my butt while I pass by. “Here’s the deal. I don’t know what you mean by weird, but Nate had about a two-hour prep conversation with Ty and me the other day trying to get up the balls to ask you to dinner. So if you don’t show up, we’re going to feel like failures. Now put something pretty on, and hurry, we’re late.”

I love Cass. It’s decided; she is now my best friend.





Chapter 15





Nate





Usually a really hard workout helps me get rid of the desire to punch something, but not this time. It’s still here, a sense of balled up energy stemming from my bicep and rolling all the way through my fist. I don’t know why I care so much and so fast, but I do.

When Rowe said she didn’t think I’d ever meet her parents, it was like an emotional car wreck went off in my chest. It was a nothing statement to her, but to me it had been so damned significant.

I’m just not that guy, the guy who keeps things in compartments and satisfies urges and doesn’t get them tangled with the rest of the shit going on in his heart and his head. I tried being that guy for a few months, and it sucked. I felt like an *. I was an *. My tour through the world of *-ness was brief—nope, not for me.

“Rowe coming?” Ty asks, holding his arm out for me to button the cuffs on his shirt. We always dress up for Sunday dinner with my parents. My mom always insisted on it when we were kids and at home, and it just sort of became the tradition—even if we’re dining out.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” I say, not lifting my eyes to meet his and just focusing on the button in front of me. There’s a soft knock on the door behind me, and her voice soon follows.

“Okay to come in?” Rowe asks, her words pushing the corner of my lips up into a smile against my wishes.

“Don’t care my ass,” Ty whispers, leaning forward. “Rowe, I know this probably isn’t appropriate, but damn girl. You look hot!”

Her giggle pushes my lips up the rest of the way. I haven’t turned to see her yet, and part of me wants to put it off, knowing it will do me in completely. I finish the last few buttons on my own shirt, a plain white fitted one that I leave un-tucked, and then turn to see if my brother’s right.

This is how a girl steals your heart. Rowe’s hair is down in waves, the front swept to the side with a tiny braid holding it in place. Everything about her face is simple and plain—absolutely kissable. She’s wearing a long black dress with black flat sandals that somehow still make her look like she’s six-foot-seven thanks to the slit along the side of her leg showing off what is quickly becoming my favorite part of her body. I’m inching closer to her without even realizing it, and when I reach her, I touch the tips of my fingers to her chin and turn her face so I can kiss her cheek. “May I?”

She only nods; her eyes looking away and her shyness making her face burn red. I tuck her hair behind her ear, letting my fingers indulge in a slight graze along her shoulder, coming to rest along her neck. When my lips meet her cheek I’m instantly charged with a need to kiss her more, but I don’t. I wouldn’t, unless she gave me permission.

“Ty’s right,” I smile. “You look hot.”

“Well, you’re just used to the ideal woman because of your new Barbie obsession. You’re just projecting,” she jokes, and I can tell it’s because she’s uncomfortable with the attention.