How I Fall (6 page)

Before I can refocus—before I can even process what’s happening—Laura and Cam have taken up all of my weight and they’ve literally floated me to the bus!

At the base of the steps Laura manages to shove into the tight spot beside me on the stairs. She keeps a hold on me so I don’t topple even an inch as Cam supports my weight from behind by putting his very large hands up under my jacket and around my waist! Then he’s gently lifting me up one step at a time.

His hands are huge—very warm—and his fingers almost go all the way around to meet up at my belly button! Even though I’m freezing, I’m sure this guy has burned permanent white-hot marks in every spot he’s touching me through my damp shirt.

*Gulps.*

In seconds I’m in a seat. I’ve also been able to avoid the staring gazes of Bella-Jane, Jennie and Paige, plus the thirty or so other passengers on the bus. More amazingly, I’ve been wedged mostly out of sight between Cam who’s taken the window seat, and Laura who’s taken the high-scrutiny aisle spot.

When my brain stops spinning, I keep my eyes shut and take stock of how I’m positioned.

Cam’s got one arm around my shoulders and has me half-nestled under his arm and next to the side of his chest as if it’s completely normal to sit on a school bus with me resting my cheek against him. I’d pull away because I’m sure all eyes are stretching to see what’s up in our seat, but I still can’t really move. Besides, now that all the shock is wearing off and I’m
officially
freezing, I’m going to need the extra stability plus any shred of warmth his arm is going to provide during this drive.

I risk taking in a slow, long breath and realize he’s got this caramel-toffee-heaven smell coming from him. It honestly smells like he fell off a candy truck or something. It’s such an amazing smell I have to open my eyes so I can figure out the source—as in—is it his breath? His deodorant? Fancy candy-scented aftershave? Or…maybe I’m all wrong. Makes more sense that this smell is somehow covered in glitter and coming from the Irish girl.

When I drag my lids open, I’m surprised into a startle because Laura London is centimeters away from my face!

She’s leaning in and staring at me all crazy like she did when she first knocked me down in that puddle.

“Oh. Sorry-luv. Didn’t mean to make you jump. There now.” She pats my head and leans in even closer and tugs at my braid which is caught under Cam’s arm until it’s free.

In one second, the awesome caramel smell I’d been searching out is erased because it’s obvious Laura London smells like flowers. Lots of flowers. Or more correctly, exactly how people smell after a visit to a perfume counter at the mall when they’ve tried on too many samples. But like the glitter, this flower-sented explosion isn’t really offensive, it somehow seems to work.

I tug my braid out of her hand. “Does the country of Ireland have no concept of what a personal space bubble means?”

“That’s the spirit. Get a little angry and it will help keep your heart beating. I’m relieved she can talk.” She leans away and makes this soft-eyed face at me like she thinks I’m slightly adorable, and then yanks Cam’s arm farther down around my shoulder! “Cuddle her up closer because I’m not loving the look of her wee-pale face—do you see what I mean? She’s shaking quite a bit more than before. I’ll work on getting the snow off of her wee-little legs and see if that helps, as well.”

“Good idea. I’m also kind of worried about her.” Cam pulls me in closer and smiles down at me with the same ‘new-pet’ look Laura just gave me.

“You’re t-t-t-talking about me like I’m n-n-not here again,” I warn, but that’s when my teeth start chattering even worse, so my tough-as-nails voice loses all of its effect.

“Sorry.” Cam blinks down at me, his smile fading. “We have to get you warm and dry somehow. Can you call your mom to see if she can bring you a change of clothes—meet us at the school?”

I shake my head. “Impossible. She’s b-b-been at work since f-f-five this morning.” I leave out the part where our car is in the shop so she couldn’t drive over even if she wanted to, and add, “I’m s-s-s-sure I’ll have soaked most of it into you by the end of this ride. It’s you who will need to change, not me.”

“Only if Laura’s glitter doesn’t wipe off these pants. I’m just surface wet, but you are soaked through. It’s not good. You could get sick.”

Jennie and Bella-Jane laugh and snicker behind us. Bella-Jane calls out, “Oh…I’m s-s-s-sooo cold too, Cam.”

“C-c-c-come warm me up next?” Paige adds.

He curses under his breath jerks his head around to look at them.

I don’t watch his expression in case he’s doing some sort of
get-me-out-of-here
guy-type eye roll for his posse. Fearing the worst, I manage to pull my head away from him and support it on my own. I will not let any of them know how shaken-up I am. Or how flipping weak I feel. Of course, that’s when I start shaking from cold even more and my teeth go from chattering to what sounds like a machine gun firing off for all to hear.

I’m forced to give up the fight and lean my head back against him because the chattering thing is way more embarrassing than the weakness thing. He shifts and I feel him turn back toward me, and I think he’s cursing under his breath again.

I don’t blame him. He must be embarrassed, too. Who wouldn’t be?

“Hold on, Ellen,” he whispers in this butter-soft voice. Caramel-coated breath hits my cheeks and is suddenly the only warm thing I can feel, but I think that’s because I must be blushing because who thinks about how someone’s breath smells amazing? Awkward. Thank God this guy is not a mind reader.

His gaze goes over me while he bites his lip—and yeah it’s so freaking cliché but when you have hypothermia you can do stupid cliché things so I can’t stop staring at that lip! Worse, I actually wonder if it might taste like some sort of caramel candy even though I’ve never tasted anyone’s lips in my whole life before—
okay
—? It’s just a thought…before death people have last thoughts…mine are obviously going to be about candy and about things I didn’t do in my life.

I’m sure this is normal, considering…

He’s saying, “I’ve got an idea to get you warm faster but you’ll have to let me move you around a bit? Is that all right with you?”

I nod. It’s all I can do.

Very quietly he whispers over my head, “Laura, can you help me a sec?”

In seconds, they’ve peeled off my sopping coat and flung it into the aisle. Keeping his huge arm very gently over my collarbones so I don’t slump, Cam shrugs partially out of his wool coat, waiting while Laura pulls on each of his sleeve cuffs so the whole jacket can come off without him letting go of me. Then he wraps me up completely into it and pulls me back in next to him how I was before, only this time I’m even closer because he’s locked his other arm around me in a bear hug! Then he turns me a bit to the side, and tucks me against him so that his wide chest is against my back and still blocking the sight of me from everyone on the bus besides Laura and the three kids in the seat across the aisle.

“There. Better?”

I nod again, because who in the heck could talk right now?

“Good. Sit tight and soon you’ll feel some sort of warmth seeping in. I hope.” He’s whispering low against the side of my head. “My friends—they don’t mean any harm—they’re just…” He pulls in a long breath and tucks me closer. “I don’t know what they are. Most aren’t really even my friends. So, ignore them if you can. It’s what I always do.” He calls over to Laura. “That goes for you, too, Ireland. Ignore them.”

“Gotcha,” Laura answers for both of us. I glance up at him just as he’s checking over his shoulder again. This time I catch the message he’s sending to the back of the bus, and my heart soars with elation.

He’s glaring murder bullets at those
friends-not-friends
!

All laughing and even the whispering stops.

*And the king has spoken.*

Laura’s looking over at both of us with this motherly, proud expression that’s so friendly, open and truly concerned that I’m suddenly almost undone to tears. This is the safest and most cared about I’ve ever felt on a school bus ride, ever. Suddenly and irrationally so, I fall the tiniest bit in love with both of them. Even though I’m sure it’s because I’m so humiliated that I fell in front of everyone, and even though I know they’re only being kind because they feel sorry for me—because who wouldn’t with the show I put on—I think I will be forever grateful that I did not have to face this bus ride soaking wet and all alone.

If time stopped right this second and we had to live one thousand years right here, I actually think I might be okay with it.

But time doesn’t stop.

It never does, not for me.

Instead, Laura startles me out of my dream-state when she shifts down into the aisle to try to work the embedded snow and icy slush out of my frozen-stiff jeans! Unfortunately, her dedication is flinging glitter-coated ice bits all over the bus. Her antics are causing the giggling to start up all over again.

I liked her much better frozen in time.

I try to pull my bad leg away from her. For once it responds by bending at the knee how I want. “Laura. Please. Stop. It’s not going to make a difference,” I whisper.

“You’re probably right.” She gives up and slinks back into her seat. Her big blue eyes look so dejected as she whispers, “I just wish I could fix it. Make it up to you somehow, my poor, wee-Thumbelina…”

I grit my teeth to stop the last of the chattering and answer her in my lowest, most threatening voice. “Call me that again,
Luna Lovegood
, and as soon as I can make fists out of my frozen hands, you and I will have to throw down a few.”

“Aww. That’s my lassie.” Laura beams and a small chuckle escapes out of Cam as Laura goes on, “Do you know how cute you are all bundled up and acting sassy even though you’re wetter than the lone dolphin that hangs out in Dingle Bay? Have you heard of either one? Amazing place county Kerry and the Dolphin’s called Fungie!”

I shake my head and bite back a reluctant smile. “You are so lucky you have that adorable accent and words like dolphin and Dingle saving your life right now.”

Cam laughs louder and says, “Right? I have no idea what you’re blabbing on about but it is charming. Not going to lie.”

Laura wrinkles up her small, ginger-freckled nose in a way that makes all thoughts of killing her go instantly away because she’s beaming at both of us again. “You both seem to already get me, and we’ve only just become friends!” She grins over at Cam. “Obvious this is all fate, yeah?”

“Again. I think my point is that I don’t get you. But yeah…fate is cool, I suppose.”

I look up in time to catch him nodding over at Laura like he’s somehow in some sort of secret conspiracy with her now.

“What does any of this have to do with
fate
?” I challenge. “Please explain.”

“Well…” Laura blinks. “Luna’s my favorite character and you knew that already, so what do you think that might be then, if it’s not fate?”

“But anyone could guess you’d be into Luna just looking at you.” I roll my eyes. “This is not fate. Cam…d-do-do you believe in it, really?”

“I don’t know what I believe right now,” he answers, smoothing the sleeves of his jacket to lie flat around my neck like a scarf. “But…she could be on to something because…here we are, right? And we weren’t here ever before and so…I don’t know. Maybe. Fate.”

I shake my head. “You’re both nuts.”

I feel him slightly relax next to me and I think it’s because I’m not shivering so hard anymore. He keeps tilting his face to the side to check on me, all while tightening his arms around me every time the bus turns or speeds up so I don’t wobble. That, plus the constant on-off eye contact is making it really hard to maintain a straight face. It’s also causing my stomach to flip each time. So much so, that I’m getting dizzy.

But this is mostly because I’ve just solved the eye color game—and for good this time!

Cam’s eyes aren’t solid gray at all! His irises are ringed with this thick line of navy blue. It creates this perfect contrast between the light, almost white-gray around his pupils, not to mention the contrast against the whites of his eyes. That’s what makes them pop out of his head like he just fell out of the Teen Wolf makeup trailer wearing glowing contacts!

Dark. Flipping. Navy-who-knew—
blue
! Gorgeous.

*Stares. Makes navy blue her new favorite color. Stares more.*

Cam’s brows shoot up like he’s caught me staring, but instead of calling me out he looks away to speak to Laura. “Where are you from in Ireland, exactly?”

“And what bad luck landed you here in the middle of nowhere?” I add, acting like I’m totally cool with this chit-chat going on while I’m wrapped up in the arms of the most beautiful guy ever born in all of Canada.

*Laughs out loud. Texts everyone on the whole planet: LOL LOL. MUAH. HA-HA. Checks self into an insane asylum.*

Laura grins at both of us. “Limerick. Me parents sent me away.”

“Why?” I ask.

“I got into some trouble.”

“No. Trouble? Not you,” Cam answers, pulling this fake-shocked expression.

She leans in, face going somber, and her huge blue eyes going even more round. “Yes.” She looks over her shoulder and lowers her voice before going on, “Since summer, I’ve been making a whole-slew of what my mother calls ‘poor life choices’ in the areas of love and my future. They say I’m not realistic.”

I bite back my smile because she looks so suddenly sad and serious I don’t want to hurt her feelings by cracking up.

Cam sighs as if he understands. “I hate the unrealistic comment as much as the poor life choices one! My dad uses those on me all the time. It’s nice to know that worldwide, everyone’s parents read the same stupid
how-to-bust-on-your-kid
handbook.”

He rolls his eyes and glances down at me with an unexpected smile.

*Memorizes up-close the second sighting of the extremely attractive eye crinkles forming at the edges of Cam Campbell’s smiling eyes.*

“I know, right,” agrees Laura, while I tear my gaze off Cam and force my eyes to stare at the green leather seat in front of us. Laura goes on, “According to my mother, I’m two steps away from meeting the very devil himself! How about you, Ellen? Any unrealistic and poor life choices going down in your life, then?”

“What? Oh. No.” I shake my head, eyes still forced on the drab avocado green on the back of the bus seat. “I’m pretty much on track and have shown no hints of having any poor life choices. I also get along great with my mom.”

“Well, good. Then you are just the sort of friend my mum hoped I’d meet here in wholesome Canada! Maybe you can help me? Get our handsome Camden Campbell on track as well? Though,” she taps her chin with one finger, “Scotsmen are right-stupid and pig-headed levels of stubborn, so don’t get your hopes up because they’ve had problems for centuries in that department.”

“What?” Cam coughs as though he’s choking.

Laura reaches over my head and starts slamming on Cam’s back with her hand. “Easy, oh! You must know some Scottish history and how your ancestors have no self control?”