Falling by Design (13 page)

Setting the plate on my desk, I run a frustrated hand over my face, wishing for it all to go away, hoping there was someone who would understand. The thought slams into me with full force. Grayson. I have almost an uncontrollable desire to call him.

As soon as the idea enters my mind, I squash it. I head for my journal instead. Maybe writing a little will help clear my head. There is no way I'm calling Grayson.

No way.

TWENTY

Food is an important part of a balanced diet. - Fran Lebowitz

"I want you to come over for dinner tonight," Grayson states, appearing beside Dakota and me as we head into school the next day.

"Why Grayson you're too kind, but I have to work tonight, or I would've loved to," Dakota says.

I grin at her as she nudges me with her elbow and the sound of Grayson's laugh washes over me like a cool breeze. I search for a polite way to decline his offer. The fact that declining it is making me sad is evidence enough I'm way over my head.

"Brooklynn?"

"Oh, well—"

"She'd love to!" Dakota interrupts pinching my elbow. I wince at the contact, throwing some major hate waves her way. "It's not like you're working tonight."

"Great!" Grayson exclaims a little too enthusiastically, then seems to catch himself, throwing a sheepish smile my way. I can't help but grin back, giving myself that small allowance. His look is just for me and I can't control my girlish little heart as it does cartwheels in my chest.

"I'll pick you up at your house around seven?"

"No!" The shout startles even me, while Dakota and Grayson look at me as if I’ve lost my mind. "What I mean is, I won't be home. I'll be at, umm, the library so you can just meet me there okay?" I grab Dakota and drag her away.

"Well, that was smooth."

"Shut up. I can't exactly have him showing up at the house. Especially after last night. Dad would greet him with a shotgun, or maybe he'd make it a bit more personal and go with a hatchet. Or a machete. He saw that in a movie once. He likes those."

"Umm, Brooklynn, you're freaking out."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." I take a shuddering breath, just thinking of my father. He left this morning before I came downstairs, and Mom just gave me a hug and told me to be patient. Not that it’s helpful. I would like more support than that. But she prefers to stay neutral, which used to bug me, but now I'm just happy I don't have two people breathing down my neck about the same thing.

"Why is Brooklynn hyperventilating?" Chance asks, coming up to us with his usual charm. He throws an arm over my shoulder, while giving Dakota a little salute that she doesn't return. I elbow him in the ribs, but he just chuckles at my brutality. It's Dakota who actually answers his question.

"Grayson invited her to dinner. She had a fight with daddy dearest last night. Oh and she likes Grayson so you know." She starts making kissing noises. Mortified, I reach for her, but Chance is quicker. He grabs me as she jumps back, laughing hysterically.

"That's not funny!" I almost shout, glancing around to see if anyone noticed. Of course people are staring, I’m not exactly being rational here.

"It's a little funny," Chance says and I can feel his body shaking in silent laughter against my own.

"You are in so much trouble, missy," I state, watching as my best friend bends over with laughter. I try to keep my face stern and grimace instead. Before anyone can make another stab at me we halt, Tamela stopping her exasperating body right in front of us.

"Well if it isn't the three stooges."

"Give it up, Tamela," I almost hiss, "It's not like you actually know who they are."

"I do too." The fact that she barely restrains herself from stomping her foot tells us a lot. Chance catches my eye, scrunching his face into an unpleasant expression, even knowing it's the wrong thing to do in front of Queen Bee. The cliché that embodies everything that is Tamela would be hilarious if she wasn't so infuriating.

"What do you want?" I ask, annoyance creeping into my voice. I really don't want to deal with her right now. Or ever. I swear she's one of those girls who watches every teen movie you can think of and then imitates what she thinks is the right way to go thru life. It's like talking to Regina George for crying out loud.

"Nothing. Just wanted to check up on the charity case. Still disgusting, I see. Carry on." Then, she turns and walks away, her hips swaying to some club song only she can hear. We gape after her, trying to figure out what in the world she can possibly be talking about.

"Anyone else confused by that?" Chance finally asks, turning his eyes on me.

"She's off her rocker, that's for sure," Dakota says.

"Whatever, I don't have time to bother with her," I say as we resume our trek to class. Chance drops us off in front of first period, giving my shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

"I expect a full report on tonight," he says before disappearing into his own classroom.

"I don't know why we're still friends with that guy," Dakota grumbles as we take a seat.

"Wait, did you just call Chance a friend?" I portray shock,  my hand over my heart in exaggerated display of emotion. "Why Dakota, you're softening up!"

"Shut up."

I lower my voice. "You know if you ever gave Chance an ounce of opportunity, you'd be surprised."

"Look," she replies in a rush of air. "I know how you feel about Chance and I respect that. He's an amazing friend to you and I appreciate that. But you know our history. I'm just not ready for us to be anything but frenemies." With that, she opens her notebook and focuses on the front of the room.

“So I’m just supposed to leave it at that when you won’t leave my situation alone?” I keep my voice low, but firm. She’s not the only one who gets to speak her mind. Not when it comes to our friendship.

“I’m sorry, Brooklynn. I know I’m not being fair. I just—I can’t think about this right now. I like concentrating on you better. Can you pretty please just drop it for now? Please.” The little begging motion she makes with her hands adds a punch to the words.

“Fine. But only because I’m an amazing friend.” For now, the conversation is over.

For now.

As I sit in class, my mind drifts to the prospect of tonight. I haven't seen Grayson's parents since science fair in eighth grade. They were always nice to me and my family, despite what their son used to do to me. I don't know if they even knew. I know I never told my parents. It would've been a show of weakness, and Dad would've told me so the moment I uttered the words.

I wonder how his parent's feel about his dreams of becoming a full time photographer. He mentioned briefly that they support him, but there was something in his eyes that told me there was more to the story than he let on. Maybe I'll ask him about it one of these days.

As my teacher begins talking about scientific names for different type of flowers found in North America, my mind drifts over to my clothing options. Am I supposed to dress up for tonight? Is there some kind of a code when it comes to these types of things? Do I bring flowers or desert? They don't exactly teach the "rules of going over to your non-boyfriend's parent's house for dinner" at school. I wish they did.

A tap on my desk snaps me out of my daydreams and I glance down to find Dakota's notebook turned my way.

Are you freaking out
?
She wrote in pretty cursive. I give her a nod.

You know, they have medicine for people like yo
u
.
I really don’t feel like I’m getting support over here. Channeling my inner child I stick my tongue out at my friend and she puffs in irritation. 

Why are you so nervous
?
I turn my own notebook to a clean sheet of paper and write out the answer.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do when I come over. Do I bring something? What do I wear?

She scribbles a reply almost furiously, as I sit waiting. Whatever the teacher is saying is lost on me. I'm going to have to go over today's work on my own later on.

I'm not sure about what to bring, but you should wear something pretty. First impressions are important and they haven't seen you in years. I know, you should wear that autumn ensemble you sketched out a few weeks ago. The yellow top and blur pants, with the vest you sewed together. I'll let you borrow my boots
.

I'm not wearing that!

Why not? I think it'll be perfect. The colors are pretty against your reddish hair and that vest is pure genius and you know it. I know you finished it so don't even lie to me
.

I don't think it's a good idea,
D
.

It's a great idea! You haven't worn anything besides black, blue or gray in months. Even during summer. It's about time you start dressing like yourself
.

I don’t hear anything my teacher says for the rest of the class, my mind mulling over that last thought. She’s right, but it doesn’t take the fear away. The bell rings then, making us both jump. We scramble to put out stuff away, and stand to leave the classroom.

"You know I'm right," Dakota says as we make our way through the crowd. "I truly believe this is a perfect opportunity for you to show off some of your talents in a safe environment." She added that last part for my benefit because she knows how much I'm afraid to let people see what I create.

"Grayson’s been telling me the same thing," I mutter the words and she grabs me before we can go anything farther. I still can't believe he's been bringing it up, especially after what happened when we were younger. But for some reason, I truly believe he's genuine when he tells me that I'm talented and should wear what I've created.

"What?"

"He's been trying to get me to start wearing my own creations for a week now. I just don't know—"

"Brooklynn, this is great!" she squeals, "Do it! And please have a camera ready for his reaction when he sees you because I'm pretty sure it'll be internet worthy." I open my mouth to argue but she'll have none of that.

"No, you are wearing that outfit even if I have to get Chance to hold you down while I put it on you."

"Well, that would be awkward."

"Your choice. I'm sure he'll agree with me on that one." She looks plenty smug, and I believe her. Chance has been bugging me to start wearing my own clothes for the last two years. Plus, I'm sure he'll enjoy torturing me a little.

"Fine," I grumble, knowing I’m fighting a losing battle. "I'll wear the outfit." When she squeals again, hugging me, I feel butterflies start their crazy dance in the bottom of my stomach.

For the first time in years, I will be wearing my own clothing.

TWENTY - ONE

I'd luv to kiss ya, but I just washed my hair. - Bette Davis

I'm a mess of amorphous emotions.

I'm leaning against the customer service desk while Dakota chats with one of the library guests and I try not to fidget. I'm having major second thoughts about this whole deal, like second thoughts that have been dumped into a bucket of green goo and are now about to go all Hulk on my body.

"This is a bad idea," I say as soon as Dakota comes back over to me. "A horrible, tragic, no way will it end well idea."

"Dude, do I need to call Chance to come sit on you? "

"I'm going to his house for crying out loud. That's like a serious step in every teen movie we've ever watched. It's like getting engaged in the teen world. What if his parent's hate me? Awkward right? And look at what I'm wearing. I need my jeans and T-shirt back! They're still in your car right? I—"

"Brooklynn," Dakota snaps, grabbing me by the arms. "I'm not allowed to call the ambulance because it disturbs the patrons too much, and I'm so not having you pass out on this gross floor in your cute outfit."

"You're not allowed to call the ambulance?" That momentarily stops me in my hyperventilating.

"They frown upon the disturbance of peace."

"That's dumb."

"Tell me about it."

I slouch against the counter, my heart racing. I'm not exactly sure why I'm freaking out this much. It's not like Grayson and I are dating; we're business partners. Business partners can have dinner at each other's houses with no awkwardness right? Well, maybe not in my house considering my dad and I are pretty much avoiding each other. He'd flip if he saw me dressed in something that didn't come from the store. In his eyes, that's a huge rebellion.

"He's here." Dakota's quiet voice interrupts my musings. I'm half hidden by the desk and Dakota, but I can see Grayson make his way toward her. He hasn't noticed me yet and I take the moment to calm my nerves as I study him.

He's dressed in a black button down shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His jeans are on the lighter side and his hair is mussed by some invisible wind, since Arizona is anything but windy. Taking a deep breath, I step from out of the shadows.

I know the moment he sees me because whatever he was about to say freezes on his lips. His eyes grow just a little rounder, piercing me to the bottom of my soul. I see appreciation there and maybe a something like awe. I feel myself grow hot under his scrutiny and I have to will my feet to move toward him.