Fall Back Skyward (Fall Back #1)(27)

“The boys, huh?” I ask, my gaze automatically going to the Holloway’s house as though some kind of force is pulling me to it.

Megs chuckles. “So you’ve met the boys next door, yeah?” My cup is suddenly snatched from my hand.

“Tasty.” She smacks her lips together. “You and I will get along very well. There is this little cafe-book-nook that plays music from a jukebox I know you’ll just love and they serve really good coffee. You and me, yeah?”

Whoa. How did she do that without bursting a lung or something?

She hands me the cup.

“Are those real?” she asks, staring at my chest.

My cheeks heat up. I was a late bloomer, so when my boobs finally came in, they arrived with a bang. “Yeah. Want to give them a test drive?” I joke.

She laughs, then says, “Sure.” Her hands shoot forward without warning and latch on to my boobs. Before I can jump back, she’s squeezing them tentatively as if she’s choosing fruit at the market.

“Yep. Round and suckable.”

What? My cheeks heat up at her words. “What?”

“These are awesome. A guy could live on these alone. Mine are saggy tits.” She sighs. “I call dibs on yours if you ever get tired of them.”

I laugh. I just met this girl and she’s managed to make me laugh within five minutes of knowing her.

“So which one are you interested in?” she asks, nodding toward the Holloway house.

“Um. . .”

“Okay. Let me give you a run-down. So, the one with the blue eyes, football player body, wide shoulders, tall and sort of playful? That’s Josh. The one with the gray eyes, beanie, toned all over and hot? That’s Cole. Very intense. Not my type. . .but. . .give me Josh, and you and I will be best friends forever.” She grins.

I’m trying so hard not to grin. This girl is a ball of sunshine wrapped in light blue jean shorty shorts and a yellow top. “Okay. So, playful Josh and intense Cole. Got it. Which one is older?”

“Josh is twenty-one. He goes to Florida State, and Cole is eighteen. He will be attending Eastern Lake University in fall and wants to major in Architecture. I hear Architects are very creative.” She winks at me and grins.

I laugh. “I wouldn’t know that.”

“I bet you’re interested now, eh?”

I giggle. God, this girl is a hoot.

The sound of a door shutting pulls me away from Megs. I twist around toward the Holloway house and my jaw drops. My heart does its sprinting thing inside my chest. He’s wearing a pair of running shorts, shoes and. . .nothing. His abs flex with every swing of his arm.

Lord have mercy.

He shoots a glance our way and waves, and then he’s jogging down the street in determined steps.

“What do you think?” I can hear the smile in Megs’ voice. I drag my gaze from Cole’s enticing back and face Megs.

“Um. . .he is very thought provoking.”

Hah! As if I have any lingering thoughts after seeing Mr. Shirtless leave his house.

Someone shouts her name from across the street.

“That’s my mom. We’re going to the mall. Wanna join us?”

I shake my head. “You and I are going to get along quite well, Megs. And I wish I could join you, but we still have a lot of unpacking to do.”

Her gaze lowers to my wrists, up my forearms. She frowns. “Are those—” she cuts herself off and blinks at me nervously.

Shit.

“Sorry. It’s none of my business.” She leans forward, catching me off-guard and hugs me. Then pulls back just as fast as she’d snatched me.

“I could drop by later and help you out if you want.”

I nod, relieved she’s still standing across the fence and still wants to come and help us unpack. “I would love that.”

She waves as she turns around and jogs toward her house, leaving me feeling as if a little hurricane just swept through me, leaving me reeling.

I gulp down the coffee and walk around the perimeter of the lawn, surveying the grounds.





I BOLT UPRIGHT ON THE BED. My eyes dart around my room. My heart races inside my chest as the sound of the rolling thunder fades in the distance. Lightning flashes across the sky several times outside my window, momentarily lighting up my room. All I want to do is bury myself under the covers and hide from the world. Dragging the sheets up to my chin, I shut my eyes tight and wrap my arms around my midriff to ward off the chills and shivers racking my body. My T-shirt is drenched with sweat and sticks to my body. Sweat that has nothing to do with the humidity and everything to do with memories from my past.

Lightning strikes again and I whimper, my eyes flying open. Closing them is never a good idea because all I end up seeing is my dad’s face, twisted in an ugly expression as he yells at Mom. I was five years old the first time I saw my father hit my mother. The sound of thunder, and my father’s angry voice, had woken me up. I tiptoed down the stairs and sat on the step with my hands clutched around the wooden bars, watching the horrible scene unfold. Lightning struck outside, illuminating my parents in the living room. Dad’s arm raised with his fist ready to strike. Mom’s body was curled up on the floor, her arms braced over her head to protect herself, right before Dad’s fist began landing on her back repeatedly. It was also the last time I saw him hit her. Either my mom learned how to hide the bruises well or my dad never did it again, but that moment was forever imprinted in my brain.