Fall Back Skyward (Fall Back #1)(36)

He shakes his head. “His words make me angry, but he doesn’t scare me.”

Cole is officially my hero. Even after being yelled at and insulted, here he is here. At my window.

“A walk,” I repeat, tasting the words on my tongue. I look down at the bowl of ice cream, then back to Cole. “Sounds like a good idea. I need to change though.”

Holy crap! I’m not wearing a bra and my boobs are literally waving at Cole. I cough, choking on that discovery.

His gaze lowers to my chest as if he read my mind, staying there a few seconds too long. He glances up at me. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows violently. He lifts a hand and scratches his head, which I’m just noticing is beanie free.

My cheeks are on fire. “I need to change. Want to come in?” I ask, then turn around, tripping on my own feet in my haste to hide my flustered face.

“You don’t need to change on my account,” he says. I jerk my head around just in time to see amusement dancing in his eyes.

I laugh and roll my eyes. “No peeking.”

Oh wow. I’m feeling quite brave, letting Cole inside my room after the scene downstairs. Being a rebel is such a rush. Knowing my dad would burst a vein if he found out about what I’m up to, acts as the driving force to my debut into rebelliousness.

Besides, Cole fascinates me. Doesn’t hurt that he’s so hot and his lips look like something I’d like to taste.

Er. . .back to the point.

I place the bowl of ice cream on my desk, hurry to the door and flip the lock, before walking to the dresser. After picking out a black knee-length dress and bra, I turn around, wondering if Cole is still standing outside the window after blabbering my hasty invitation.

He’s not. God, is he ever not.

Cole is standing next to my desk, with his hip leaned on one corner, his focus on my doodle book. He turns a page, and continues to study my work. Drawings and words written in moments of pain and peace. My soul is in those pages.

Crap. What is he thinking? I’m just starting to know what normal feels like, and I don’t want anything taking that away from me. Even though I’m certain he knows my scars are from self-harming, the things in that book are my inner thoughts. My inner demons unleashed.

He turns another page and something flutters to the floor. He lifts his gaze from the book and straightens when he sees me watching him.

“That’s private,” I tell him, annoyed at myself for leaving that book on my desk, instead of under the pillow. Annoyed at him for poking around without asking me first.

He looks worriedly at me. “I’m sorry.” He bends down to scoop up the fallen paper then looks at me again. “This is beautiful.”

My gaze drops to the paper, a string of scribbled words surrounded by hearts drawn in Zentangle patterns. “The past does not define me.”

I swallow and close my eyes, trying to bring my conflicted feelings under control. A gentle touch on my shoulder forces me to open my eyes and meet Cole’s gentle ones, which seem to understand what I’m feeling.

“I didn’t mean to snoop around. The book was lying open on the desk and I couldn’t resist.” He hands me the book, but holds onto the Zentangle doodle and continues to study it.

I touch his arm. “You can keep that one.” I’m not even sure why I told him that. I just know that I want him to have something from me. Something that reminds him of me.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes. Really. I swear I don’t mind.”

He beams at me and I melt. That look on his face is magnificent and worth the little doodle sacrifice. “Thank you.” He folds it carefully and slips it into the front pocket of his shorts, walking back to the desk. “Ready?” he asks, turning around.

I shake my head and lift my finger and tell him to give me a minute. But his eyes are fixed on me. One of his hands is tucked inside a pocket while the other is holding the spoon—my spoon—shoving it into his mouth. Eating ice cream has never looked so sexy.

He licks the spoon and I die.

“Turn around,” I say, motioning with my index finger in a circular motion, then wave my clothes in the air.

He dips the spoon inside the bowl and shoves a large scoop of ice cream inside his mouth before he obediently obeys my request. My attention is split in two: listening for sounds outside my door and making sure Cole doesn’t sneak a peek.

I straighten my dress, take a deep breath and walk toward Cole.

I touch him on his arm and he turns around. “I’m ready.”

His mouth parts as he looks at me from head to toe, and then back up. He doesn’t say a word, but I see the appreciative look in his eyes. He puts the spoon in the bowl, leans forward and brushes his thumb across my bottom lip, lingering at the corner of my mouth.

“Ice cream.” That’s all he says before he spins around and strides toward the window, leaving me shivering in his wake.

Biting my cheek to fight a grin, I unlock the door and then trail after Cole out through the window. This is so clandestine and the possibility of being discovered makes my heart race in excitement and a little bit of panic. Dad would definitely ground me for years if he found me sneaking off with Cole.

Once Cole and I are standing on the lawn, he takes my hand in his, linking our fingers together, and tugs me forward. With one final glance toward my house, I trot after him. He lets go of my hand when we reach the fence, swings his long legs over it, and motions for me to move closer.