This Is Falling (22 page)

“This is me,” she shrugs. “I will have
these…forever.”

I’m careful when I swallow and mindful of my
breath, because I don’t want her to think I’m afraid to look at
her. I don’t want her to misread a single movement I make. I reach
up with my other hand and run my thumb over her cheek, drying the
last of her tears, and then I let my eyes slide slowly along her
shoulder and arm until I finally settle and look at the body she
calls “ugly.”

The most noticeable one is deep and red—a
line that runs at least eight inches along the side of her body,
and I’m almost certain it’s a surgical scar. It’s surrounded by
others, some small, and many deep, proof that bullets and metal did
in fact penetrate her body.

She lets go of my hand, but I leave it there,
careful not to move it too quickly. I can feel her eyes burning
into me, just waiting for me to run. But I’m not going anywhere.
I’ve never been more positive in my life of somewhere I’m
supposed
to be. I slide my fingers slowly over the rough
skin, letting my thumb trace the long line up to the middle of her
ribcage, and then I peel my hand away with caution. Her body jerks
a little from losing my touch.

“Shhhhhhhhh,” I whisper, touching my
fingertips to my lips to kiss them and then pressing that kiss back
to her beautiful, scarred skin. When I do, she shivers, so I tilt
my head and spare a glance at her face to see her eyes full of
tears. I lean forward and kiss them away, and pull her head to my
lips, carefully working her body back along the bed until she’s
lying beneath me.

I hover over her, kissing her neck first,
then the line along the strap of her bra. Her body rises up,
arching into me when I come to the rounding of her breast, and I
savor the moment, and let her just feel human—her body, for just
the slightest instant, reacting to her needs and desires instead of
her fears.

I kiss along the soft material of her bra,
letting my lips and cheek feel the peaks of her nipples beneath,
and I let my hot breath soften them before I continue to kiss
between each, slowly inching my way down her body until I feel her
tense up at my arrival at her scars.

“Beautiful. Every. Single. Part of you,” I
say, letting my lips fall to the long callused line first, taking
note when her breath hitches. I continue to glide my hand along
each mark, covering each with a kiss before moving on to the next,
until I have cherished every inch of her.

When I come back to her face, her cheeks are
sopping wet with tears, and she’s no longer trying to hold in her
emotions. Reaching my hands deep into her hair, I bring her
forehead to my mouth, and I hold her against my lips. And again, I
wait while she quivers and breathes—deep, labored breaths in
between sobs—until her body calms, and eventually she’s
sleeping.

This
…is love.

Chapter
20

Rowe

Waking up in Nate’s arms was like beginning a
brand new life. In the last two years, I’ve gone to bed without the
aid of sleeping medication only a handful of times. Usually, I’m
sick with something like the flu and that’s why I can’t take my
medicine. But not when I’m with Nate. He’s my placebo.

He was staring at me when my eyes finally
focused. He said he had only been awake for a few minutes, but I
have a feeling he had been looking at me for longer than that. I
didn’t get to shower at all yesterday, and I feel a little grimy
now because of it. But I also don’t want to wash away Nate’s
kisses. I know it seems juvenile—the thought of actually savoring a
kiss. But I want to.

I slipped back into my room before class and
was able to dress in the closet without waking Cass and Ty. I
watched them sleep for a few seconds, satisfied at my good work,
and then jogged to my first class, making it there right on
time.

Next semester I was going to have to rethink
how I organize my classes, because having philosophy this early in
the morning is a challenge. My brain isn’t ready to think this
hard, and I’m pretty confident that I am going to fail the quiz I
just turned in. I have learned one thing from this two-hour block
class I take every Monday and Wednesday—I am not going to major in
philosophy. I like it, bending my brain and forcing it to think
about things differently, to see reasons behind actions. But it
doesn’t feel like something I want to do forever. But art—not
necessarily the making of, but the appreciating of—that was
something that I needed to explore more.

My mind has clearly wandered, because when
the desks start shifting and my classmates start standing to leave
the lecture hall, I snap from a trance. Yeah, this is another
chapter I’m going to have to read twice having missed every word of
today’s lecture.

I’m the last to make it out of the class, and
when I see Nate sitting along the small wall by the bike rack
waiting for me, there’s worry on his face. But when he finally sees
me, he kicks away from the wall and comes my way with long strides,
kissing me the second he’s close enough.

“Are you okay? You looked upset?” I ask, my
inner voice falling into its natural pattern of doubt and
self-loathing. Of course I think he’s regretting last night,
rethinking what he saw and how he feels, but I’m quick to tamp
those feelings down. They ruled my life for way too long, and I’m
not letting them ruin this.

“I just didn’t see you. Got worried, that’s
all,” he says, completely capturing me all at once.

“What’s this?” I point to the paper bag in
his hand that looks to be saturated with grease. Nate just grins,
his dimples deep when his eyebrows move up and down.

“Lunch.”

“You brought me lunch?”

“Yeah, well, you packed that sad little lunch
the other day when I found you eating before your art class, so I
thought I’d surprise you. I don’t have to be to algebra for a while
yet,” Nate says, grabbing my hand and pulling me with him until
we’re nestled between two trees in an area of the park where I can
see everything.

I know what it is the second he rips open the
bag, and my mouth begins to water for the Sally’s burger. He also
filled the bag with fries, and I start stuffing my mouth with those
before he even has a chance to unwrap our burgers.

“Wow, piranha!”

“Sowwwwwy,” I say, my mouth stuffed with
fries. I cover my face with my napkin so I can talk more clearly
while I chew. “I didn’t eat breakfast, so I’m kinda starving.”

“I figured,” he says, holding a fry out for
me to take. I bite it from his hand quickly, and he jerks back.
“Okay, I am going to have to throw a ball in a few hours. Let’s not
bite my fingers off?”

“You knew the risk,” I smirk.

“Yeah, I did,” Nate says, his tone serious
now as his eyes settle on me. His attention makes me blush, so I
unfold my napkin and hold it up in front of me, like a curtain. But
Nate reaches for it and tears it from my hand with a chuckle. “Hey,
no hiding. Why do you do that?”

“I don’t know. I just get embarrassed, that’s
all,” I say, taking a big bite from my burger so I have an excuse
not to talk any more.

“Well, I like to look at you, so you’re going
to have to get used to it. Here, let’s practice.” Nate moves his
burger and wrapper to the side and lays flat on his stomach,
propping his chin up on his hands and elbows close to me while he
stares with his eyes wide. He doesn’t blink for the longest time,
and I do my best to hold my laughter in, just eating slowly, and
dabbing the corners of my mouth with my napkin.

“The human female in her natural habitat is a
unique creature. This one, barely from her parents’ den, has yet to
learn how to hunt, so she relies on her gathering techniques.”

Nate is putting on what I
think
is
supposed to be an Australian accent, though when mixed with his
Southern drawl it doesn’t sound quite right. I finish the last bite
of my burger and pull the water bottle from my backpack so I can
take a drink to wash it down, fighting to keep my lips from curling
into a smile and giving me away.

“Finished with her feast, the young lioness
prepares herself for her daily mating rituals. She must find
herself a lion, but to do so, she must also ward off the
competition from the other members of the herd who have recently
come of age. She will need to do something to stand out if she
wishes to pair herself with the King of the Jungle. And the lion is
waiting…”

Before he can get out the rest of his
commentary, I pour the entire contents of my water bottle down the
back of his shirt, and I finally let my laugh escape my lips.

“Ooooooh shit! That’s cold!” Nate says,
jumping to his feet quickly, and holding the back of his shirt away
from his body while he hops around.

“What do you think? That
stand out
enough for you?” I ask while I twist the cap onto my now empty
bottle and tuck it inside my bag. Nate wrings out the dampness from
his shirt a little, and then flicks drops of the water from his
fingers at me, making me giggle and flinch. Then he climbs over me,
straddling my waist with his knees, pushing my back down along the
grass while he tickles my sides.

“Oh, you stand out, all right!” he says while
I fight, albeit not very hard, to remove his hands from my sides.
He loosens his grip soon, and sits up, pulling me with him and
cupping my face in his hands.

“You have to get to algebra,” I say, not
really wanting him to leave but knowing he can’t miss class. He
just sighs, his eyes piercing me before he leans in for a long and
gentle kiss.

“Did you get to go to your prom?” His
question is so out-of-the-blue.

“No, that was…a school activity,” I say,
trying not to let my insides twist like they usually do when I
think about things I missed.

“Right. This weekend, I’m taking you to
prom,” he says, standing completely now, and unwrapping his burger
to take a large bite before he has to go to class.

“Oh, that’s…you don’t have to do that. I
wouldn’t know what to wear,” I say, not really sure what he means,
or how he could take me to a high school dance that doesn’t even
happen until the spring.

“No excuses. It’s my birthday. My wish.”
Dimples. Smile. Accent. I’m sunk.

I knew his birthday was coming up, but I
forgot it was this weekend. I have to get him something. I should
get him something, right? What do you give a guy like Nate? With
Josh, it was easy—I took him to a game and just splurged on nice
seats for the Diamondbacks. Maybe Nate would like something like
that?

I pull my phone out while I walk to class
alone, and before I can talk myself out of it, I flip to the
webpage I had saved—his mother’s gallery site. I hit the contact
tab and type her a message. Foolishness settles in the second I hit
send, but it’s too late, so I put my phone back in my pocket and
join the others filing in to the lecture hall for art history. When
my phone buzzes in my pocket minutes later, I almost fumble it to
the floor just getting it out.

My email alert is on, and when I open the
tab, there’s already a reply from Cathy Preeter.

Rowe, so good to hear from you! I just
called Dave, and he said he does know someone with season tickets
in Oklahoma. I’ll email you the name and number later, and I’m sure
Nate would love that for his birthday. Send Nate my love. –
Cathy

I’m almost more excited to have such a kind
email from Nate’s mother than I was to get a message from Nate in
the first place. I’m not good at making impressions on parents—I’ve
had so very little practice with it. And with Josh’s parents, they
knew me as coach’s daughter long before I was the girlfriend. I
wonder if that’s what I am to Nate’s parents? The girlfriend.

The lights go out, so I push my phone back
into my pocket and pull out my notebook to make notes on today’s
set of slides. But every now and then I let my pen spill over to
the margin, where I doodle hearts.

Nate

The week dragged by, probably because I
couldn’t wait to get to Friday. I know there’s a lot Rowe missed,
and her senior prom is probably just the tip of the iceberg. But
this is also one of those things I can fix—I may not be able to
bend time, but I can fill in the memories.

Taking Sadie to the prom was probably my last
great memory I have of her. She was tall and toned, like Rowe, and
she wore this deep purple dress that hugged her body down to her
feet. It’s the only picture I have left of us in my wallet, and I
should probably throw it away. But something always kept me from
tossing it in the past. I think it was the nostalgia, of being able
to pull it out and remember
us
like
that.

The last time I looked at it, I had just
bailed from some girl’s apartment during summer ball at about five
in the morning. I woke up, hung over and naked, and for some reason
that picture was poking out of the edge of my wallet on the floor
when I crawled to my feet. I didn’t miss Sadie, but I missed having
someone.
And my new pattern wasn’t about finding
someone.
It was about finding
anyone—
anyone that
would do. But seeing the picture of me with Sadie reminded me what
really being with someone felt like. So that was the last girl I
had sex with, despite the world of crap Ty gave me over it. I was
going to just focus on baseball—baseball and nothing else until the
right girl came along.

Rowe just happened to show up really
fast.

She has tried to back out of what she is now
calling the
Nate Preeter Prom Experience
all week long, but
she’s been trapped in her room with Cass and Paige for the last two
hours, and I saw Paige walk in with garment bags and hair products.
I honestly thing she’s more excited about this whole thing than
Rowe is.