You and Everything After (Falling #2)(34)

That’s right. She painted my room pink. And I may never change it back, because it reminds me of her. I look right into her eyes, my smile big, and shake my head while my dad laughs and looks to my mom, who’s also pretty impressed.

“It was Rowe’s idea,” Cass says, wanting to give her friend credit. This girl, she owns me, and I pull her into my lap without even thinking. And when my mother’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline in shock, I hug Cass tightly, just to punctuate my point. That’s right mom—she owns me. And you’re going to love her.



My parents can be cool when they try. Nate and I sat near the front of the suite, the row making it easy for me to push between two of the sections. Our parents stayed near the back, at the food tables, giving us some space. There are a few people here from my dad’s office. He’s in accounting, which on the surface sounds about as sexy as working in cardboard. But my dad’s kind of high up with a big firm, and his accounting works in numbers with lots of zeroes, and that…that gets exciting. I get my business sense from him. So does Nate, though Nate’s more public relations.

The girls are sitting in front of us, their feet propped up on the bar at the front of the box, and their skirts tucked tightly around their legs. If I were a cameraman on the other side of the stadium, I know where I’d be focusing.

“Dude, there’s a lot of whispering going on up there,” I say to Nate, nudging him to look at Cass and Rowe, their heads close together. Every few seconds, Cass cups Rowe’s ear, then she pulls away again, crossing her arms. Rowe looks like she’s getting upset. Fuck me. Are they seriously fighting?

“Hey, mind if I get some time with my date?” I ask as I push in closer to their row. Cass climbs over to sit on the other side of me, and Rowe doesn’t flinch or bother to look our way. I cast a look to Nate, who takes a deep breath, then climbs over the seat to sit next to her.

“I made Rowe mad,” Cass admits. Shit. I hate girl fights. I have a brother, and I love that I have a brother. I’m also glad we don’t have a sister, because I wouldn’t know what the hell to do with all of her damn girl fights.

“Okay,” is all I say. I suck.

Cass turns to look at me swiftly, studying me for a few minutes with her brow pinched, trying to tell if I’m serious, so I shrug.

“You are such a boy,” she laughs, laying her head on my shoulder and cupping my bicep with her hand. It feels like she was meant to do this always.

“Yeah, but I prefer the term man, if it’s all the same to you. Just sayin’,” I joke, and her light laugh shakes my arm. I lift it up to put it around her and squeeze her to me. Looking over my shoulder, I notice my mom watching me the entire time. Her grin could not be any more obvious.

“Paige is spending the night at the sorority house tonight,” Cass says, bringing my attention back to her. “She’s joining one. She’ll be moving out.” I feel her breath stop. Mine stops too. It froze the moment I realized what this means: Paige will be gone, and if Rowe is with Nate, we would be alone. Not gonna lie, my pants just got a little bit tighter, and I’m pretty sure Cass can tell. There are some things that are difficult to hide.

“So…you’re saying…” I start, not wanting to presume anything—I usually do, but this one, this time? This is different. I need to be careful here.

“I’m saying…that…” she starts, then stops, biting her lip. Her cheeks turn red, and I can hardly stand it.

“Come on, Cass,” I say, shaking her lightly to my side. “You can do it.”

She buries her face into my bicep, and it’s so cute that I can’t torture her any longer.

“Do you want to have a sleepover?” I ask, sleep the very last activity on my agenda. Cass nods her head yes against my arm, then pulls her face out just enough to look up at me. I kiss her forehead the second she does.

“Done,” I say.

“But I’m worried about Rowe. She’s kind of…nervous. I don’t know, I feel bad kicking her out of our room. That’s…that’s what we were fighting about,” she says, and I can tell she honestly does feel bad. And now I feel like a royal prick—because, as much as I should care about Rowe’s feelings being hurt, the only thing I can think about is getting back to Cass’s room, getting her alone, and getting her out of that damn yellow dress.

“She’s with Nate. Trust me, we would be doing those two a massive favor. My brother is pretty whipped by that girl,” I say. A smile cricks up in the corner of her mouth, so I kiss it. “I promise. Think of this as our good deed. Rowe will thank you. I know it.”

Shit, I hope she doesn’t punch her. Either way, I’m getting this girl into her room, alone, tonight. I don’t care if it f*cking kills me. Well, yeah, I care if it kills me. Let me sleep with her first, then kill me, universe.



Here is why baseball is better than football. No matter how many runs your team is down by, you always have a sense of hope. One inning—one inning can change it all. You can score, and I’ve seen it, a dozen runs in an inning—especially at the college level. There’s no time limit. The game could go on all night, as long as it takes.

With football, there is a clock, and everything is measured against it. For example, McConnell is down by four touchdowns, and in a few minutes, it will be five. Given McConnell’s average time taken to score, there is not enough time left on the clock for the Bulls to make a comeback. It’s a mathematical improbability.