Fall Back Skyward (Fall Back #1)(42)

He turns and signs something to Cole. Cole’s lips twitch as if he’s fighting a smile and shoves his middle finger in Simon’s face.

Simon laughs and leaves the room, shaking his head. Cole is back to watching me like he’s seeing me for the first time, taking every feature in before focusing on my mouth. I browse through the limited ASL knowledge in my head for something witty or clever and fail miserably.

Angling my face to make sure he can see my mouth, I sign at the same time as I say, “I enjoy talking to you.”

His gaze leaves my hands and returns to my face. He clears his throat, his lips twitching.

Yep. That probably didn’t come out right.

I clear my throat and wait until his focus narrows on my lips. “I enjoy talking to you, but you never talk a lot. You come to my roof, lie down next to me, breathe my air and watch the stars. But you never talk to me.”

He grabs the pen and turns a fresh page on his sketch book and scribbles some words on it. And then flips it around and slides it toward me.

You’re a terrible signer.

Heat crawls up my cheeks and I look up at him. He’s smiling now. Grinning, actually. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

He pulls the notebook back and writes on it again before pushing it back to me.

Use your mouth and speak slowly. I love to watch you while you speak.

Holy hell!

“You do?” Those are the only words capable of leaving my mouth. My brain cells. . .gone. Poof!

He nods, his gaze still fixed on my mouth. I lick my lips, the courage that acted as fuel when I walked over a few minutes ago has vanished.

He scrawls on the book, Something got your tongue?

“More like Cole got my tongue,” I mutter under my breath. The boy sitting two feet away from us snickers.

Crap. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Something brushes against my knee. I jolt upright as the impact of it rushes through me.

Oh God, his knee is touching mine. Maybe it was accidental?

Yeah, right. I’ve known Cole for a while now. Nothing about his actions are accidental or innocent. They are measured. Deliberate. Precise.

He applies pressure where our bodies touch. I’m no longer Eleanor. I’m a girl who’s hanging on by a thread, waiting to burst into flames. The movement stops and air finally finds its way back into my lungs. I should move my leg, put a stop to this torture. But I can’t. There’s a force that tethers my body to his. I want to find out more about it because. . .I just need to.

Period.

Time to regroup. Why was I here again?

“Why do you come to my rooftop every night?”

His gaze leaves my mouth and holds mine captive.

He folds his arms on his chest and tips his head to the side. “Do you want me to stop?”

The thought of not having Cole’s body next to mine at ten o’clock every night makes my chest twist in pain. But I need to know.

“Why do you come to my rooftop every night?”

“Why do you lay on your roof every night?”

I sigh and smile. I can’t help it. “Because the sky is a dark canvas of endless dreams and fantasies, just waiting to be discovered. When I’m lying there, tossing my thoughts to the sky, it’s just me and the stars. Bliss. Peace.”

His stare intensifies, studying my face for several seconds. He blinks and says, “I’m a huge fan of astronomy.”

I roll my eyes, enjoying this banter a lot.

“And you can’t do that on your roof because. . .” I raise my brows and purse my lips.

His wide shoulders roll in a lazy shrug, but he doesn’t answer.

I lean closer and his arms drop, the nonchalant pose gone. His scent slams into me and I have to fight hard not to launch my body across the table and wrap myself around him for eternity. The muscles on his forearm tense as he grabs the beanie with his free hand from the table. He clenches it in his fist as though holding on to the hat gives him something to keep himself from drowning in the tension surrounding us. I know this because that’s what I’m feeling right now, like I’m being pulled toward something I’ve never felt before. Something indescribable. Something phenomenal.

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

Do I make him nervous? Or is there something else going on behind those stormy gray eyes?

I lift my chin, aiming to goad him further. “Why do you come to my rooftop every night?”

He stares at me for a long time, longer than it should be legally allowed for one person to stare at another.

He closes his eyes, those long spiky lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, and exhales shakily as though he’s forcing air out of his lungs. His eyes flicker open and he stares down at the notepad. His grip on the pencil is tight. He might snap it any minute now. He lets go of the beanie and runs his fingers down his hair before hunching down and writing fast. Once he’s done, he slides the notebook in my direction then leans back in his chair and stares at me.

My heart’s beating out of my chest as I drop my eyes from his to the words written in a careless scrawl.

Can I let you in on a little secret? I’ve imagined for a while now how your mouth would feel pressed against mine. That bottom lip between my teeth. I’ve wondered if you’d moan if I kissed you, how your body would feel flush to mine. I’ve fantasized about so many things about you, but most of all, I’ve wondered what you taste like. Sweet and innocent as you look.