This Is Falling (20 page)

“Sweet Caroline
”
got old after about
seven replays, so I switched to the playlist I had made for the
first car ride to McConnell. I had sixty songs on that list at
least, so every one was something different and a surprise, which
made the last hour of the flight pass quickly.

I started looking for Nate as soon as I
pulled my carry-on through the gate, but he wasn’t there. I didn’t
think he would be allowed to come that close, for security reasons,
but it didn’t stop me from fantasizing. I wondered if he would kiss
me when he saw me? I wasn’t sure how to act with him now. I wasn’t
exactly sure what we were.

Nate’s voice is unmistakable, and it hits my
ears and then my heart. He’s singing—Neil, of course, in my honor.
His tone is deaf, and he’s switching keys like crazy, and I’m
pretty sure he’s making it worse on purpose, just to embarrass me.
Then I see the sign, a ginormous pink poster-board covered in
glitter and black marker looking for
Miss
Butstynk
.

“What? No ‘paging Miss Butstynk’ over the
phone system? Nate, I’m disappointed. I think you’re getting soft,”
I say, my mouth tingling just thinking about his lips.

He pulls the poster down to his feet and
steps in closer to me, reaching his arm around my body to pull me
in for a hug. I can hear him chuckling deep in his chest, the best
sound I’ve ever heard, and then he kisses me on the top of my head,
and we start walking.

I can’t get over the grin on his face, and
the way he keeps looking at me every few steps that we take. A few
times, he takes a breath, like he’s ready to speak, but he never
does.

“Flight was fine, thanks,” I finally say when
we get to the elevator bank, teasing him, but also wanting to end
this strange awkwardness.

“Good. Glad old Neil could help you out,” he
says, holding the door with his back while I wheel my bag inside.
When the doors close, Nate steps in front of me quickly, putting
his hands on either side of my face and lifting my mouth to his. He
pauses for the tiniest second, long enough to check my reaction,
and when I smile against his lips, he kisses me completely. It’s
soft and tender, and he holds my top lip between his teeth for a
few seconds while he moans softly.

“Goddamn,” he says, backing away and licking
the taste of me from his lips.

Two more people get in the elevator at the
next floor, and my pulse speeds up knowing they could have just
walked in on us. I guess it’s only a kiss, and people do that in
public all of the time, but before Nate, my only kisses were by
lockers, under bleachers, on my parents’ porch—and in Josh’s
bedroom.

“So, Miss Butstynk. Where can I drive you?”
Nate smiles at me, tapping his finger to his poster and
winking.

“The transplant office. I’m ready…to become a
man,” I say, and when he closes his eyes to stifle his laugh, I
know I’ve won this round. The duo with us in the elevator looks
horrified.

We leave the airport and merge onto the
highway for a few miles before Nate pulls off again and stops at a
place called Tucker’s Onion Burgers. My stomach growls just from
seeing the sign.

“Figured you probably need more than the tiny
bag of peanuts for lunch. Mind?” He’s still so cautious about
taking me places, and it makes my heart skip. I smile and nod,
putting my hands on my belly to try to keep the growl to a
minimum.

Nate takes my hand as soon as we walk to the
front of the car, and he keeps it tight in his until we’re
comfortably seated in a booth in the far corner of the restaurant,
our trays weighed down with what may just be the most indulgent
hamburger I’ve ever seen.

“I always wanted to try one of these,” he
says, pulling the giant burger to his mouth with two hands and
taking a big bite. “Ohhhhhh my gawwwwww.”

I can’t help but stare, and it’s different
this time, because I know Nate’s not pretending to be anything for
me. This isn’t him playing some game where we talk with food in our
mouths—it’s just him, being comfortable around me. I’m starving,
but all I want to do is watch him eat, so I let him get two more
enormous bites ahead of me before I attempt to taste my own
burger.

“Oh wow, this is soooo good,” I say, knowing
fully well that an onion has just slid from my mouth down my chin.
I try to catch it, and feel a little embarrassed, though I will
never admit that to him, but Nate quickly stops me with his napkin,
wiping my chin clean, and then leaning in for a kiss.

“So, my parents are coming to visit in
October. They’ll be here for the Classic Tournament. My dad, he
uh…he’s kind of excited to watch you play,” I say, taking short
glances at Nate while I talk and pick at my fries.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, nodding, his brow a
little pinched.

“Yep.” It’s quiet for a few minutes after
that, and I start mentally kicking myself for only saying
yep
, when Nate leans back along the corner of the booth and
stretches his arm out so he can look at me.

“I gotta ask. You’re not making your parents
come here and having them meet me just because you feel bad, are
you?” I didn’t think of it that way, but I can understand Nate’s
reaction now. I had some work to do to make sure he knew I was just
as ready to take this step as he was.

After taking a long drink from my soda, I
push my tray away and drop my napkin on top, then turn my body so
my leg is bent in the booth and I’m facing him. “No. I was supposed
to go home again for fall break. But that was before,” I say,
suddenly warm and anxious.

“Before I made you feel bad about not wanting
me to meet your parents?” he asks.

“No. Before I realized how much I don’t like
being away from you,” I say, waiting while his eyes stay on
mine.

His lips smile, and whisper softly, “Oh.”

“That, and my dad Googled you,” I tease, just
needing to break the tension.

“What is it with you people and
cyber-stalking?”

Nate carries our trays to the trash and
reaches for my hand at the door. He walks me all the way around to
my side, opening the door for me while I get in, and then shuts the
door softly, like I’m someone important—important to him.

Nate

I have kissed her exactly three times so far,
and she hasn’t protested a single one. Once on the head, once in
the elevator, and once in the middle of the best-damned hamburger
I’ve ever had.

When she said her parents were coming and
wanted to meet me, I felt like crap for making such a big deal out
of it. But I really think she meant what she said, and I can’t help
but feel hopeful that she would rather be here, in a state dozens
away from her home, than go back to the place she knows.

There was still so much I wanted to know,
needed to know. But I had to be careful how I extracted information
from Rowe’s head, because so much of it is covered in the scars of
her heart. We have an hour of nothing but conversation time,
though, so I hope I can get to some of her best secrets today.

“Oh, I should warn you. Ty and Cass…first
fight,” I say, still pissed that I won’t be able to talk Ty into
spending the night in Cass’s room tonight. Unless, of course,
things have changed from how they were when I left.

“You’re kidding? What happened?” Rowe
asks.

“Well, it’s probably Ty’s fault. Like I said,
my brother’s default mode is
asshole
when it comes to women.
Cass is really the first one he’s been
with
for more than a
week, if you don’t count his go-to girls.”

“Ty has go-to girls? What exactly is a
go-to…
oh…never mind.
” Her innocence was cute. I forget how
little Rowe probably knows when it comes to things like that,
because she can make herself seem so sure and confident.

“Right. Well, they ran into one of the go-to
girls at Sally’s. Some girl we met when he came down here early
with me for summer ball. And, well, you know Cass. She called him
on it, pretty much right in front of the girl, and he ended up
getting slapped by them both. Of course, now he’s all mopey and
shit and refuses to go talk to her,” I say, glancing at Rowe to see
her genuinely interested in Ty and Cass’s break up.

“We have to fix things,” she says, and I can
tell she means it.

“I’m not sure it’s ours to fix,” I start to
say, but I can feel her eyes snap to me quickly, so I stop. “But
maybe we can somehow get them to talk?”

“Yes. They just need to talk,” she says,
pulling her phone from her purse and sending a text that seems to
take her minutes to complete. “There. Phase one—done. Now, give me
your phone.”

For some reason, I willingly go along with
whatever she wants, and reach into my pocket and hand her my phone.
I’m not a meddler by nature, but for some reason, Ty and Cass being
together seems important to Rowe, and maybe her reasons are as
selfish as mine—wanting time for us to be
alone
. But I feel
like there’s something more to it, and if it’s important to her,
then it’s damn important to me, too.

“There. I texted your brother, too. We’re
having a little goodbye picnic for Paige, and they’ll both be
there. Paige has a lot of alcohol, so that got them both to say
yes.
”

Of course it did. My brother has endured far
worse for cheap drinks. You make them free? There’s no keeping him
away. “Okay, so where is this picnic taking place?”

“Yeah, about that…” she has a tone in her
voice that tells me I’m going to be sorry I asked. “You think you
can sneak us onto the outfield, just one last time?”

She’s literally pouting with puffy, full lips
and sad eyes, inches away from my face while I cruise at eighty
along a two-lane highway. I’m at her mercy. I think I was at her
mercy the first time I scared her in the hallway. I nod
yes
,
and she squeals—one of those girly noises I didn’t think she was
capable of—she scoots closely to me and kisses my cheek. That makes
four.

“So, how did Josh ask you out?” I was feeling
brave, all that confidence from her small kiss pumping courage
through my veins. But the way she sinks back down into her seat
zaps it all away. “Sorry. Should I…not go there?”

She’s quiet for a few seconds, and I feel
like an ass for pushing her. But I know Josh is the big elephant in
the room. No matter what she said in her message to him, I know it
takes more than just saying you’re done with someone to be done
with them totally. I even thought about Sadie from time to
time—granted, it was usually when I was drunk and trying out the Ty
Preeter brand of post-break-up therapy.

“No, it’s okay. It’s funny, actually. I asked
Josh out, ultimately. He sent me a note once, in class, saying he
liked me. I had liked him for a while, and I used to pretend to
wait for my dad after practice just so I could watch him pitch. He
was pretty good. I mean, I don’t think he would have played college
or anything, but you never know.”

I can see the pain flash over her face, but
she pushes through it, so I don’t stop her.

“Well, the note came and went, but he never
really
did
anything about it. He never asked me out. There
was this other girl that liked him. Trisha Harvest, I mean, her
name sounds like a town festival, right?” She scrunches up her nose
from the memory, and I can’t help but laugh at seeing this catty
side to her. It’s not annoying. It’s honest and real—and I adore
it.

“Anyway, Trisha was sitting on the bleachers
next to me one day, and I knew it was, like, do-or-die time. When
he walked off the field, I pretty much boxed her out, like
old-school Celtics basketball, and just blurted out asking him to
the Spring Fling dance. And he said
yes
. And we were
together for more than a year.”

When she’s done, she just smiles, but there’s
an edge to it, like the memory of it hurts. I want to ask if she
thinks they’d still be together. But I already know the answer to
that. So I don’t bother causing her any more pain. Instead, I dwell
on the fact that she just told a love story like an ESPN
commentator.

“I cannot believe you just referenced—and
accurately, I might add—both the NBA and the fundamentals of
basketball in that story,” I say, putting the palm of my hand over
my heart and sparing a quick glance at her. “God, I love you.”

Oh. Shit!
I don’t know where those
words came from. They weren’t even in my mental queue, but damn if
they didn’t just roll off my tongue. I look back to the road
quickly, then I glance down to the radio to start flipping through
channels, doing my best to play it off like what I just said was
the same as the rest of our normal banter. I didn’t see her face
for long, but I was on her long enough to notice her eyebrows shoot
up to her forehead.

I’ve thought those words a few times, but
usually they’re future tense—as in “I think I could love her,” or
“I might love Rowe one day.” But that’s a bloody lie. I love her. I
love her right now. I loved her when I read her words to Josh, and
I hoped for everything she said because I’m a selfish bastard who
wants her all to myself. I loved her when she busted my heart with
that business about not meeting her parents. I loved her when I
held her in my arms all night.

I was done the moment I saw her.

But goddamn if I wanted to tell her that
right now! Right now, when I’m guarding every move and word I say
for fear of chasing her away. I need to fix this.

“I uh…I meant that, like, you
know…rhetorically,” I say. I’m not even sure if rhetorically is the
right word. I check to see if she’s still looking at me in shock.
Thankfully, she’s moved her gaze to her lap, where she’s picking at
the edges of her fingers.

“Yeah, Nate. No…it’s…it’s no big deal. I got
that,” she says, moving her face to look out her window. “I know
you didn’t mean it.”