Learning to Fall (14 page)

Nudging the dishwasher closed with his hip, Daniel leaned against the counter as he wiped his hands dry with a dishcloth. “I have to get going. I’m glad you both got up when you did, otherwise I would have missed you.” Crossing the kitchen, he put his hand on my shoulder. It was a casual touch. Absentminded, even.

My reaction to it was neither of those things.

He’d touched me last night, I remembered as my entire face flushed a deep, dull red and I sucked in a startled mouthful of air. He’d touched my neck. My shoulder. My back. Soft, light caresses meant to soothe and reassure. He’d walked me home and stood beside me while I’d fumbled with my keys and followed me in through the front door and…and that was it. The rest was a complete and total blank.

What happened next?
I thought frantically as I searched the vestiges of my memory.
What the hell happened? Did we have sex? Was it good? Was it awful? Oh God. I was so drunk. I bet it was awful. That’s why he stayed and made breakfast. It’s a sympathy breakfast. Because I was so awful in bed and he feels bad for me.

“Are you okay?” Daniel asked with concern when I leaned over my plate and began to cough. “Imogen?”

I couldn’t speak. Pressure began to build inside of my chest, making it painful to even breathe. Fortunately, Whitney was familiar enough with my sudden attacks of anxiety to know exactly what to do.

Sort of.  

“She’s perfectly fine,” my best friend said hastily. Springing up out of her seat, she pushed Daniel aside and gave my back two hard, very unhelpful
thwacks
with the palm of her hand. “This happens sometimes when she eats too quickly. Why don’t you grab her a glass of orange juice?” Waiting until Daniel went to the fridge, she leaned down and hissed in my ear, “What the
hell
are you doing? Act normal! You are
not
having an anxiety attack right now. I won’t allow it.”

“But I can’t remember,” I gasped. 

“Remember what?”

“
If we had sex or not!
”

Shooting me a warning look, Whitney straightened up and extended her arm. “Thanks,” she told Daniel with a sunny smile as she put a full glass of orange juice down in front of me. “You’re a peach.”

Grabbing the glass with both hands, I took one long sip, then another. As the pressure in my chest slowly eased I even managed to take a deep breath, filling my lungs with much needed air before setting the orange juice down and looking up to meet Daniel’s worried grey eyes. “Sorry,” I said, forcing my mouth to stretch into a smile. “I-I took a bite and it went down the wrong tube.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, only looking half convinced.

“I’m fine. I swear.” If things between Daniel and I ever progressed, I would have to tell him about my anxiety attacks. I wouldn’t have a choice. But now wasn’t the time, or the place, to explain.

“If you’re sure…”

“Positive,” I assured him.

He rubbed his jaw, fingers scratching at the dark bristle covering his chin. “Then I really should get going. I promised a friend I’d help them out with some yardwork and she gets pissy when I’m late.”

She
? I glanced quickly at Whitney, who raised an eyebrow.

“Before you go running off,” she told Daniel, batting her eyelashes, “I have a few obligatory questions. You know, since I’m Mo’s best friend and all.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. Hard. “Whitney, I don’t think-”

“Sure,” Daniel said. “Ask away.” When he turned the chair around next to mine and straddled it, I caught a whiff of a familiar scent.

Apricot and pomegranate.

Daniel had used my shampoo to wash his hair. His body - his naked, wet, lathered up body - had been in my shower. He’d touched my things. Used them to cleanse himself. Was it absolutely insane that I felt jealous of my body wash because it had touched him and I hadn’t (at least not that I could remember)?

Yes
, I decided as I squirmed uncomfortably in my chair.
Yes it was
.

“Well…” Whitney began, drawing the word out. Picking up a piece of bacon, she stuffed half of it in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed before she asked, “How long have you lived in Camden?”

“For most of my life. I was born and raised here. Left to go to college. Came back.” His teeth flashed in a wry smile that showed a hint of his dimple. “Most Mainers do. Come back home, that is.”

“Mmhmm, mmhmm, interesting, interesting. Where did you go to college?”

“Ohio State.”

“
Really
.” Whitney sat up in her chair while I sank lower in my mine. The last thing I’d planned on having with my pancakes was an interrogation, but when my roommate was on a roll there was nothing I could do to stop her. “What was your major?”

“Economics…and football,” Daniel said when Whitney merely waited, brows lifted and lips pursed.

I looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t know you played football. Isn’t that sort of a big deal at Ohio State?”

“It’s
huge
,” Whitney confirmed before he could answer. “They were undefeated in their conference last year. Finished fourteen and one overall. Fourth in the entire nation, although the AP had them pegged for the number one spot. You know, I figured you for a football player.” Her eyes narrowed to thoughtful slits of blue. “Wide receiver?”

Daniel shook his head ever-so-slightly. “Cornerback.”

The term sounded vaguely familiar, although I knew less about football than I did about soccer. “Is that the one who throws the ball?”

“No little fox.” He brushed his hand across mine. “That’s the quarterback.”

Whitney caught my gaze.
Little fox?
she mouthed.

Feeling another blush coming on, I shrugged and ducked my chin, quickly shoveling another piece of pancake into my mouth.

Relentless in her questioning, Whitney turned her attention back to Daniel. “When did you graduate? No big NFL plans?

I felt his hand stiffen over mine. “No,” he said curtly.

“But if you played for Ohio you must have been really good,” Whitney pushed, oblivious to the sudden tension radiating through Daniel’s entire body. It was the first time I’d seen him look anything other than completely at ease. “So what happened?”

“I didn’t graduate.” He stood up so abruptly his chair knocked into the table, causing my glass of orange juice to tip over and spill across the tablecloth and onto the floor. He froze. “Shit. Shit. I’m sorry. Where are your paper towels?”

“It’s fine.” Jumping to my feet, I took Daniel’s hand and pulled him away from the table. “Whitney will take care of it. Won’t you, Whitney?”

“I don’t see why I have to be the one - yeah,” she said after a quick glance at my face. “Yeah, sure, no problem. You two lovebirds go on.” Picking up a soggy napkin, she wrinkled her nose. “I got this.”

“I can walk you out.” Feeling the tightness in his arm, I squeezed his fingers. “That is, if you want me to.”

He looked down at me, his dark, stormy gaze unreadable. “I want you to,” he said simply.  

Stopping only to put on our jackets, we stepped outside into the cold morning sunlight. The second the door clicked shut behind us Daniel expelled a gust of air and leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees. He remained like that for several seconds while I looked on, not quite sure what I was supposed to do or what I could say to alleviate the pain he was so clearly feeling. I started to pat his back but hesitated at the last second, hand hovering uncertainly in midair. 

“Is there something…”

“No,” he said as he straightened and stretched his hands up towards the clear blue sky. Closing his eyes, he bowed his body back, lifting his chest and revealing a few inches of tan skin as his shirt lifted up. “I’m fine. Just needed some fresh air.”

“I’m sorry about Whitney.” I shifted my weight from foot to foot and, not knowing what else to do with them, shoved my hands into the deep pockets of my coat. “I know she didn’t mean to upset you.”

“She didn’t upset me.”

Sure, and I really had choked on my food. 

Daniel lowered his arms and opened his eyes. He grinned at me, and even though I knew he was trying to pretend as if everything was fine, there was still a hint of darkness lingering in the depths of his piercing grey eyes he couldn’t quite make disappear. “She didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who spilled OJ everywhere.”

“Still,” I insisted, “she shouldn’t have asked you so many questions about your past.”

He lifted a brow. “Isn’t that what she’s supposed to do? Ask the man her best friend is seeing all sorts of intimate and embarrassing questions?”

My breath caught in my throat. I stared up at him, trying - and failing - to read the thoughts he was keeping so carefully hidden behind his casual grin. He did that quite a bit, I realized. Hid what he was truly thinking behind an easy smile and an affable personality.

“Is that…is that what we’re doing?” I asked slowly as my heart rate sped up. “Seeing each other?”

Gently he lifted both of my hands out of my pockets and entwined his fingers with mine, pressing our palms together. His skin was warm to the touch. His voice soft and husky. “I’m looking at you right now, aren’t I?”

“Y-yes,” I stuttered. “I suppose so, but what about-”

He silenced me with a kiss. It happened so fast I didn’t have time to prepare myself or to ask questions. One moment his mouth was curved in a smile and the next it was on mine.

There was no urgency to the kiss. No pushing. No teeth or tongue. Just a sweet, simple, innocent meeting of lips that ended far sooner than I would have liked. When Daniel lifted his head and stepped back I kept my eyes closed for a moment, savoring the taste and the feel of his mouth.

“Imogen, I have to go now.”

“I…What?” Opening my eyes, I had to blink twice before I was able to focus on Daniel’s face. I felt warm all over, as I sometimes did when I worked in the living room and the afternoon sun shone in through the windows, bathing me in a soft, shimmering glow. “What did you say?”

“I have to go,” he repeated, his grey eyes softening with amusement at my dazed reaction. “I don’t want to, but I have to.”

“That’s…that’s fine.” Was it? I thought so. Daniel had his own life and I had mine and wanting him to spend the entire day with me was not only impractical, it was childish and immature. And yet still there was a part of me - a surprisingly strong part - that wanted to ask him to stay. 

As though he could sense my conflicting emotions, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and drew me against his chest, resting his chin on the top of my head. “I’ll see you soon, Imogen.” He kissed my temple before he turned and walked away. Feeling oddly bereft, I watched him go. He stopped when he reached the sidewalk.

“By the way,” he called out, face lost to a bright ray of sun as he looked back at me.

I pulled my coat tighter around my shoulders, catching a sudden chill from the crisp autumn air now that I wasn’t pressed up against Daniel’s warm, hard chest. “Yes?”

“We still haven’t slept together yet.”

Well that answered
that
question. “That’s, uh…that’s good? I guess. I mean, that’s reassuring to know.”   

“Just in case there was any confusion.” He brought two fingers to his brow in a mock salute. “Don’t forget, water and aspirin. Goodbye, little fox.” 

Heart in my throat, stars in my eyes, I skimmed my thumb across my bottom lip as I watched him walk away.

CHAPTER TEN

Falling

The next two weeks flew by at an alarming rate of speed. Between lectures, grading homework, and preparing for midterms I barely had time to catch my breath, let alone go on a date with Daniel even though he’d asked me out no less than three different times. I felt bad refusing, but as much as I would have liked to go out for dinner or see a movie or try my hand at mini-golfing (something I’d never done), my professional life had officially superseded my personal one. At least until Thanksgiving break. The holidays would be my eye in the center of the storm. Especially since I was planning on remaining in Camden.

I would have liked to have gone home and seen my mother, but since she was still ignoring every attempt I made to contact her (phone calls, emails,
and
handwritten letters), I thought it best to give her some more time. I knew in her eyes I had committed a terrible transgression, and forgiveness would not come lightly, if it ever came at all.  

Panting a bit as I lugged the second of two plastic crates stacked high with reference books I had checked out from the library, I shifted the crate onto my hip and fumbled with my keys before unlocking Roo’s passenger door and carefully setting the second crate on top of the first. “There,” I said, rubbing my hands briskly together as I surveyed the neatly arranged books, already alphabetized by author and organized by time period. “That should do it.”

It was already well past seven o’clock and my car was the last one to leave the parking lot. Roo’s headlights cut a swath of light across one of the dorm buildings as I drove through campus, cutting across the back lot and saving myself five minutes of driving time.

With the exception of one old woman who always walked her overweight pug at precisely 7:15 every night, the streets and the sidewalks were empty. Everyone was inside their houses, staying warm as the temperature outside steadily dropped. It hadn’t snowed yet - despite John’s warning I was looking forward to my first New England snowfall with great anticipation - but the winds sweeping in off the harbor had grown noticeably colder over the past few days and I’d seen more than one person stacking firewood in preparation for Maine’s notoriously long, hard winter.

Pulling into the driveway, I killed the engine and debated the best way to carry the crates of books inside before I ultimately decided to leave them until the morning. Due to a guest lecturer all of the classes had been pushed back to ten, giving me a little extra wiggle room in my schedule.

Grabbing my purse, I walked briskly up the walkway and into the house. Every single light was turned on, but after yelling for Whitney and receiving no response it quickly became apparent my roommate was out. I vaguely recalled her saying she had a date with a soccer coach from a rival team, but I hadn’t realized it was tonight. Then again, Whitney went out so often it was hard to keep one date straight from another. I didn’t know how she did it, and I secretly envied her ability to juggle so many balls (figuratively
and
literally) in the air at the same time. I only had one guy I wanted to go out with. One guy I wanted desperately to see. And I couldn’t.

Try as I might, I couldn’t figure out a way to evenly divide my time between Daniel and Stonewall. It was already bad enough he was constantly on my mind; a distraction I didn’t need when I was trying to create new lecture plans and grade papers. All of my focus - all of my energy - needed to go into the career I’d worked my entire life to achieve. Nothing was more important.
No one
was more important.

Not even Daniel. 

I knew he wouldn’t wait for me forever, if he was even still waiting for me at all. But I also knew - or so I kept telling myself - there would be other men. When the time was right, when I had firmly established myself at Stonewall, when my schedule allowed it, I could date. But not now, and not Daniel, a man whose single kiss had left me feeling lightheaded for days afterwards.

If a single kiss had the ability to incapacitate me, what would two kisses do? What would - my face heated just thinking about it - sex do? At Swordfish the night everything had spiraled out of control faster than I could say ‘cherry martini’ I had toyed with the idea of a casual relationship based on sex, something men
and
women (Whitney included) did all the time. But the truth was I wasn’t capable of casual, at least not with Daniel. Where Daniel was concerned, there was nothing
casual
about him.

And that was what frightened me.

Hanging my purse up, I shrugged out of my coat and unwound my scarf before going into the kitchen, my growling stomach reminding me I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. Reheating a bowl of soup, I carried it up to the tiny third bedroom I’d converted into my office and got to work. It may have been just shy of eight o’clock, but that didn’t mean my day was done. I wanted to get a jumpstart on next semester’s syllabi and there were still three extra-credit papers I needed to grade.

Within minutes, I was so consumed with my work that I forgot about the soup. By the time I remembered I’d brought it up with me it had gone cold, and my nose wrinkled as I forced myself to swallow a spoonful of chilly chicken noodle. Pushing the bowl aside, I booted up my laptop, using it as a substitute radio to play my favorite Pandora station - a mix of The Lumineers, Gregory Alan Isakov, and Passenger - before settling in to read the first of three papers on the early literary influences of Jane Austen.

Pop.

The sound, a faint clicking of glass, had me glancing automatically at the window. Seeing nothing, I mentally shrugged and turned the page, eyes narrowing as I scrutinized a paragraph that didn’t quite flow with the others.

Pop pop
.

My head jerked in the direction of the window again and this time I stood up, absently carrying my student’s paper with me as I crossed the tiny room and peered out through the glass at the dark lawn below. “Hello?” I said, my voice coming out tinny and high as I realized I was completely alone and practically defenseless. “Is someone there? Whitney?”

A white hand cut through the darkness in a wave and I recoiled from the window like a startled cat, but before I could scream the bright light of a cell phone clicked on, illuminating Daniel’s face.

“
Daniel
?” I said incredulously, my pent up breath expelling in a loud
whoosh
of air. “What…what are you doing here?” Seeing the tiny rock he still held in his right hand, my brow knit in confusion. “Are you throwing things at my window?”

He dropped the rock. “This isn’t as weird and creepy as it looks, I swear.”

Flustered, I ran a hand through my hair. “Do you know what
time
it is?”

“I do, which is why I’m here.” Hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans, he rocked back on his heels and tipped his face up towards the window. The light on his phone went out, but now that I knew where he was I could see the outline of his body. “I tried calling, but you didn’t answer.”

The night Daniel walked Whitney and I home from Swordfish, Whitney had - in all of her drunken wisdom - put my number into Daniel’s phone. Something I hadn’t found out until three days after the fact when I answered a call from an unknown number and discovered Daniel on the other end. I liked that he didn’t rely on texting to communicate with me. Having never mastered the art of sounding witty and charming via abbreviated sentences (something Whitney had down to an art form), I vastly preferred talking to texting…although our short conversations over the phone certainly hadn’t prepared me for
this
.      

“So you came over to my house and threw rocks at my window?” I asked in disbelief, not yet knowing whether I felt annoyed or flattered. 

“No. Well yes,” he acknowledged. “Technically that’s exactly what I did. But I knocked on the door first. Which is why this is only a
little
weird and creepy.”

“I had music on,” I said, gesturing behind me at my laptop. “I must not have heard you. And my phone is charging.”

“Which is why I went the rock route.” His teeth flashed white in the darkness as he grinned. “You know, I think this should count as romantic. Romeo threw rocks at Juliet’s window.”

“Romeo poisoned himself and Juliet used his dagger to stab herself.” I’d never understood why people insisted on touting Romeo and Juliet as an example of a great romance. They’d defied their families, betrayed their friends, and committed suicide. Hardly a relationship to aspire towards.  

“Oh.” Daniel’s grin faded. “I might have skimmed the ending.”

The corners of my mouth twitched in a reluctant smile. “Would you like to come inside?”

“I would, but we don’t have time. You have to come out. Well, you don’t have to. But I’d really like it if you did.”

Daniel wanted me to go out with him? Right now? “It’s almost nine,” I said, glancing down at my watch. The paper I still held suddenly seemed to grow heavier, a silent reminder of responsibilities I still needed to fulfill.

“Which is why we need to hurry. Come on, I’ll meet you by the front door.”

He disappeared around the corner of the house before I had time to form an objection.

Sneaky man
. I couldn’t go out with him. Of course I couldn’t. I still had two papers to grade, and I needed to get a full eight hours sleep. But I
was
curious, so I quickly shut off my laptop and hurried downstairs. When I opened the front door, Daniel was facing the street. He turned slowly, his dimple already in full effect as he smiled down at me.

“Ready to go?” he asked. “You should probably put a coat on. It’s a little cold out and we’re going to have to walk into town.”

“I don’t really go out drinking during the week,” I said, for that was the only reason I could think of for walking into town at nine o’clock at night. “But maybe on Saturday if I get my work done-”

“We’re not getting a drink.”

“We’re not?”

“Nope.”

“Then…what are we doing?”

“It’s a surprise.” Reaching past me, he grabbed the first jacket hanging up on the wall and held it out. “Is this yours?”

I glanced at my navy blue peacoat. “Yes, but-”

“No time for questions,” he said as he more or less bundled me into it. “We have to go right now or we’ll miss it.”

“Miss
what
?” I asked, my tone tinged with exasperation as Daniel wrapped an arm around my waist and hustled me out the door. “You know,” I said once we’d reached the end of the driveway and turned left onto the sidewalk, “this basically constitutes as kidnapping.”

He stopped short. “You can go back if you want.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. I
could
have gone back…but I didn’t want to. Tilting my head, I peered up at him through a curtain of dark hair that had fallen into my eyes. His expression tender, he gently brushed my hair back behind my ear.

“I’ve missed you, little fox,” he said quietly. “More than I probably should.”

Because the feeling was mutual, my head jerked in an awkward nod as butterflies stirred to life inside my belly. “I-I’ve missed you too,” I admitted in a whisper. “More than I probably should.”

“Even though you’ve been avoiding me?” he asked, his hand slipping around to cup the back of my neck, fingers lightly massaging taut, tense muscle.

“I know,” I said as a dull flush began to creep up my cheeks, “and I’m sorry, but I’ve been-”

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” he interrupted before I could finish. “I know you have your own life, and up until three weeks ago I wasn’t a part of it. But I want to be a part of it now.” His grey eyes twinkled. “Even if that means having to kidnap you to get a date.”

“You didn’t really kidnap me,” I protested.

He gave me a wry look. “I sort of did. But don’t worry, I’ll have you home before you turn into a pumpkin.”

“You do know,” I began as we started walking again, “it was Cinderella’s coach that turned into a pumpkin, not Cinderella. When the story was first written there wasn’t even a pumpkin at all. Charles Perrault, a notable French author, added the pumpkin and the glass slipper in his version which he called
Cendrillon.
In the Brothers Grimm rendition Cinderella’s stepsisters cut off parts of their feet in order to get the glass slipper to fit and were blinded for their treachery by a dove at Cinderella’s wedding.”

Daniel winced. “Sounds painful. Weren’t there mice?”

“In the Disney version.”

“I think I like that one better.”

“Most people do.”

“And you?” Turning his head, he looked down at me. “Which version do you like?”

I thought about it for a moment. “The Brothers Grimm,” I decided. “Fairy tales were originally created as fables designed to teach children lessons. Only in later renditions did the focus shift to the romance between the prince and princess. But that’s not what they’re supposed to be about.”