This Is Falling(50)

She’s literally pouting with puffy, full lips and sad eyes, inches away from my face while I cruise at eighty along a two-lane highway. I’m at her mercy. I think I was at her mercy the first time I scared her in the hallway. I nod yes, and she squeals—one of those girly noises I didn’t think she was capable of—she scoots closely to me and kisses my cheek. That makes four.

“So, how did Josh ask you out?” I was feeling brave, all that confidence from her small kiss pumping courage through my veins. But the way she sinks back down into her seat zaps it all away. “Sorry. Should I…not go there?”

She’s quiet for a few seconds, and I feel like an ass for pushing her. But I know Josh is the big elephant in the room. No matter what she said in her message to him, I know it takes more than just saying you’re done with someone to be done with them totally. I even thought about Sadie from time to time—granted, it was usually when I was drunk and trying out the Ty Preeter brand of post-break-up therapy.

“No, it’s okay. It’s funny, actually. I asked Josh out, ultimately. He sent me a note once, in class, saying he liked me. I had liked him for a while, and I used to pretend to wait for my dad after practice just so I could watch him pitch. He was pretty good. I mean, I don’t think he would have played college or anything, but you never know.”

I can see the pain flash over her face, but she pushes through it, so I don’t stop her.

“Well, the note came and went, but he never really did anything about it. He never asked me out. There was this other girl that liked him. Trisha Harvest, I mean, her name sounds like a town festival, right?” She scrunches up her nose from the memory, and I can’t help but laugh at seeing this catty side to her. It’s not annoying. It’s honest and real—and I adore it.

“Anyway, Trisha was sitting on the bleachers next to me one day, and I knew it was, like, do-or-die time. When he walked off the field, I pretty much boxed her out, like old-school Celtics basketball, and just blurted out asking him to the Spring Fling dance. And he said yes. And we were together for more than a year.”

When she’s done, she just smiles, but there’s an edge to it, like the memory of it hurts. I want to ask if she thinks they’d still be together. But I already know the answer to that. So I don’t bother causing her any more pain. Instead, I dwell on the fact that she just told a love story like an ESPN commentator.

“I cannot believe you just referenced—and accurately, I might add—both the NBA and the fundamentals of basketball in that story,” I say, putting the palm of my hand over my heart and sparing a quick glance at her. “God, I love you.”

Oh. Shit! I don’t know where those words came from. They weren’t even in my mental queue, but damn if they didn’t just roll off my tongue. I look back to the road quickly, then I glance down to the radio to start flipping through channels, doing my best to play it off like what I just said was the same as the rest of our normal banter. I didn’t see her face for long, but I was on her long enough to notice her eyebrows shoot up to her forehead.

I’ve thought those words a few times, but usually they’re future tense—as in “I think I could love her,” or “I might love Rowe one day.” But that’s a bloody lie. I love her. I love her right now. I loved her when I read her words to Josh, and I hoped for everything she said because I’m a selfish bastard who wants her all to myself. I loved her when she busted my heart with that business about not meeting her parents. I loved her when I held her in my arms all night.

I was done the moment I saw her.

But goddamn if I wanted to tell her that right now! Right now, when I’m guarding every move and word I say for fear of chasing her away. I need to fix this.

“I uh…I meant that, like, you know…rhetorically,” I say. I’m not even sure if rhetorically is the right word. I check to see if she’s still looking at me in shock. Thankfully, she’s moved her gaze to her lap, where she’s picking at the edges of her fingers.

“Yeah, Nate. No…it’s…it’s no big deal. I got that,” she says, moving her face to look out her window. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

But I did. And I do. And seeing her now makes me wish like hell I didn’t take it back.





Chapter 19





Rowe





After Nate took back what he said, I became hyper-focused on fixing Cass and Ty. I was a little hurt at first that I had to find out about their fight from Nate, but Cass said she thought it was going to just be a nothing thing that would blow over. Unfortunately, when she went to talk to Ty about it a few hours later, he told her he thought they should take a breather, and maybe they were getting too serious.

It wasn’t even my relationship—I wasn’t even sure if what I was in was a relationship. But the thought of running away for fear of being too serious made something inside me snap. Cass and Ty had to try, because how was I supposed to navigate being with someone if those two couldn’t figure things out?

“Girl, this better work,” Paige says as she walks by me quickly in the hallway, her tote bag filled with way too much alcohol. Paige brought two of her new sorority sisters with her, which made me a little nervous, because I knew Nate was putting himself out there sneaking us out on the ball fields again.