Falling Over (Falling In Series Book 3)

by Andrea Hopkins

  Remembering the way she pulls her entire bottom lip into her mouth when she’s nervous—allowing her front teeth to graze the skin underneath. Or how her eyelashes are so long and full, they touch the top of her lid when open. And her right ear sticks out slightly more than the left. And there’s no way in hell I could forget those curves—a bit smaller than before, but I’ll make sure she remedies that. I already (respectfully) bitched out my entire family for letting her lose weight, and if they know what’s good for them, i.e. ever want me to set foot back into this house, they’ll get it handled. But regardless of the size, those curves are permanently etched into my brain. She’s trying to conceal them today with those clothes, but it’s an otiose effort as I could easily draw every bend and arch just by memory.

  I throw my backpack over my shoulder, carefully pulling my arms through. I’m terrified that any sudden movement will snap the loose tether binding us together. Quietly and as subtle as possible, I close the small distance between us. I stop directly in front of her and exhale just as she sharply intakes a breath.

  I give myself three seconds.

  Three seconds to just look at her in absolute wonder—basking in her beauty that is unmatched. Feel her presence—commanding yet soothing to my soul. Breathe her in—sweet, earthy, with a promise of snow.

  Her eyes bore into mine—glazed over in confusion, wariness, and something else I don’t dare to read, not if I want to do what needs to be done. The left side of my mouth tilts up just the tiniest bit, the action distracting her just enough to allow me to leave the faintest of kisses on her forehead.

  “Take care, Bug.” I whisper against her smooth skin, breathe her in one last time, and then…

  I walk away.

  I walk away and don’t stop until I’m sitting in my parents’ cold as balls car and await their lagging asses. I squirm in my seat as my fingers switch off between clenching into fists and drumming on every surface I can reach in the backseat. I’m mere seconds away from storming back inside, tearing up the stairs to Cady’s room, and kissing her the way I want to kiss her. The way she deserves to be kissed. The kind of kiss that makes her entire body go weak, forcing her to mold her body into mine just so she can stay upright. The kind of kiss that leaves both of us breathless and so fucking delirious, we aren’t even sure if it was real. The kind of kiss that just might put an end to this—whatever we’re going through. Limbo? No, Hell. Yeah, definitely Hell.

  But, as usual, my family has the best (or fucking worst) timing, saving me from either gaining the best moment of my life or quite possibly a right hook to the jaw. Knowing Cady, it would probably be the latter.

  Jake sits behind the wheel and Evie joins him in the passenger seat as Dylan comes in on my left, giving me an upward nod and a crooked smile.

  “You ready, kid?” Jake asks, looking back at me with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on Mom’s seat. He glances at her with an adoring smile, leaves a gentle kiss on her nose while she’s staring at me, and dabbing the tears brimming her eyelids.

  I risk a quick glance up at Cady’s window and suck in a deep breath as I see her silhouette through the thin translucent striped curtains. It vanishes almost instantly and I exhale slowly, forcing a smile and bringing my focus back to my parents.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  With those true words, I leave her behind again.

  Only this time, it will be my last.

  Sixteen

  Songs to listen to:

  “I Don’t Think About You” by Kelly Clarkson

  “I’m Moving On” by Chyvonne Scott

  “Love Like Mine” Hayden Panettiere

  “Forgetting You” by James Carr

  “No Tears Left to Cry” by Ariana Grande

  Cady

  Even without my twin by my side (which by the way, is weird as fuck) the moment I step into the doors of the new high school I will be attending for the remainder of my senior year, I breathe a sigh of relief, immediately feeling like all is right—at least academically speaking. My personal life, however, is a big, steaming, smelly pile of dinosaur shit. Yes, dinosaur. It was the biggest animal I could think of to convey just how shitty my social life is. But I’m here to remedy that.

  I’m done being the pathetic hot mess who couldn’t manage to brush her hair, let alone talk to another guy that wasn’t either her brother, dad, or step-dad. Ben is gone. And judging by the look in eyes when he left after winter break—the sad, almost heartbreaking if I didn’t hate him so much, resolute defeat staring back at me—I’d say he’s gone, gone. He’s giving up. Which is good. It’s exactly what I wanted. I mean, it’s why I iced him out for so long. And also to punish him. And probably also because I knew once I let him in again, we’d fall into that same cycle of him getting everything he wants and me only surviving off scraps.

  So yeah, not hearing from him this week is totally good. It’s not like I was going to answer his phone call, anyway. And I definitely wouldn’t have saved his message, or added it to the other hundreds of messages I did not save or consecutively listen to like a really fucked up and depressing as shit playlist.

  No, I wouldn’t have done that this time, nor have I ever.

  Now that we’ve reiterated why I’m on a mission to revive my social life, I’m gonna have to work on my selling points—less pitiful maybe, and definitely a bit more uplifting. As for what I want in a friend—or friends, if I’m lucky—honestly, I just want to find someone who won’t take semi-nude pictures of me and send them to everyone they know. You would think that would be easy to find, and if you are thinking that, then you’re obviously not in high school anymore.

  Bitches be crazy.

  I make my way through the herd of kids who I’m sure can smell a new student a mile away, but unlike the snickers and catcalls I grew accustomed to at my old school, my new peers seem to either ignore my existence or just smile kindly at me, albeit a tad curiously. And I try my damnedest to return the sentiment with the least amount of awkwardness I can muster.

  I was told to head straight to the office to meet up with my assigned “welcome buddy” aka high school tour guide, which is exactly what I do. I barely get through the door before I hear my name shouted in the small but welcoming space.

  “Cady Adams, get your fine ass over here!”

  I turn to where the voice sounded like it came from and am met with the most beautiful guy I have ever seen, Ben included. The mystery guy, who is currently getting scolded from the secretary for his inappropriate language, is at least six feet tall, if not more, and with a fit build—not too bulky, but well defined with sculpted shoulders and arms peeking out from underneath his Beyoncé t-shirt accompanied with dark denim skinny jeans and a pair of pink, scuffed up Vans—oh, jackpot. His skin is smoother than I thought humanly possible—a rich brown hue with deep chocolate eyes, lashes for days, and dimples so adorable, you instantly want to make him smile just so you can see them again.

  “Girl, let me tell you. I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life,” the boy says with a huge smile on his face, his pearly whites shining brightly against his dark skin, with sincerity as his dimples nearly hypnotize me with all the cuteness of kittens and baby goats befriending each other.

  “Well,” my eyes drop to his name tag quickly before returning to the sparkly little globes shining at me. “Miles, I don’t know you, but I have a feeling I’ve been waiting for you my whole life, too.” And words have never been truer. The second I had walked into that office, there was an ease, an almost tranquil aura I could feel reeling me in. And I’m positive that was Miles.

  At my words, his infectious smile grows even wider and those dimples…seriously, if dimples were lucrative, we could end poverty with those stinking indentations. I’d bet big money this kid could get away with anything, but something tells me he wouldn’t dare try, even though he knows he could.

  Within seconds, he loops his arm with mine, waves his fingers and winks at the secretar
y, who rolls her eyes with an adoring grin, as we walk out the double doors leading back out into the hallway.

  Just as the doors shut behind us, he turns on his heel and pulls me into a hug. I immediately tense in surprise, but once I feel his warmth and friendly intention, I hug him back, pulling him in tight, as if I hadn’t seen him in years instead of knowing him for no longer than a minute.

  But that minute was long enough.

  He pulls back and shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re even prettier than I imagined. Judging from the way your brother looks…”

  “You know my brother?” I gasp and squeal at the same time.

  “Know? Meh, not exactly. Gaze adoringly from afar, yes.”

  Now my own smile grows. From the copious amount of questions swirling behind my eyes, he gives me sheepish look, grimacing slightly.

  “I may have seen him around a few times, gone to a handful of games, a few parties and gatherings of our people. Of course, he’s always flanked with at least a dozen guys who worship the ground he walks on, so I highly doubt he has or probably ever will see me. Which is kind of where you come in. I may have bribed my way into becoming your fabulous tour guide. I guess I figured since he’s every gay boy’s dream, you, my dear Cady, had to be pretty spectacular yourself.”

  I bite my lip to hide the dopey smile on my face. Miles-don’t-know-his-last-name-yet is exactly what I need.

  “I’m sure the fact that if you and I hit it off, the prospect of getting an ‘in’ with Dylan never crossed your mind?”

  “Um, yeah, it may have come up in my head a few times.”

  “Well, you’re lucky you’re adorable, and I happen to like adorable people. Otherwise, your ulterior motives might have gotten the best of you. Complimenting me may have helped with the decision as well. A girl can never get too many compliments.”

  “Preaching to the choir, honey.”

  “All right then, Miles—wait, what’s your last name?”

  “Bennett. Miles Bennett.”

  “Okay, Miles Bennett, let’s get this tour on the road before we’re late for first period, and if you get me talking enough and aren’t a shitty guide, I’d say there’s a good chance some intel on my twin might come up at some point along the way.”

  “Oh girl, don’t tease a boy like that.”

  “Honey, I’m no tease. What you see is what you get.”

  “My kind of girl.” Miles winks again before re-entwining his arm with mine. He then begins the best tour an overpriced school can offer, complete with titillating but not hurtful gossip about kids I don’t know but I have a feeling I will by the end of the day, and so much smiling that my face is dying by the time the first bell rings.

  All of this cements the feeling within me that attending this school just might have been the best idea I’ve had. Ever.

  As the day wears on, it just gets better. It’s something I am not all entirely used to, but damn, I can definitely get on board. Especially when there are cute boys around who haven’t taken their eyes off you since you walked into the cafeteria. Okay, one cute boy. There is one cute boy—one very, very cute boy whose hazel eyes sparkle under the harsh lighting of the obnoxiously loud school cafeteria. I smile. He smiles. I turn away before my cheeks turn so red that I look like a paid whore from the 1800s. Although, I think harlot would be the correct term. Classier, at least. And like I’ve said a million times before, I’m classy as fuck.

  As I eat my leftover vegan lasagna, I try to keep up with Miles’s intro to “Cliques by Tables 101.” I can’t help but to glance up with every pause, which isn’t very often because apparently, Miles doesn’t need to breathe when he talks. But after maybe the seventh time my eyes flick to my mystery admirer, Miles completely stops talking, catching the direction my gaze strayed to and he quite audibly—read: nearly every single person turns our way, thus ensuring my cheeks remain aflame for the rest of the day—gasps, then proceeds to slap the table and fasten his wide eyes on me.

  “I can’t believe it! No, that’s not true, I can so totally believe it. For someone who has a vajeen, you’re pretty hot. But damn, Blaine? It’s your first day and he’s already eye-fucking you so hard, I’m almost blushing. And aside from the fact that I’m a dark-skinned brotha who can’t really blush in the first place, I could walk through this damn room in nothing but my Calvin’s and werk it out without a single hang-up.”

  “As entertaining as that sounds, and seriously, could you please do that tomorrow because I think that would probably be the greatest thing I have and will ever see? Um, what are you adorably rambling about?”

  “Blaine. Blaine Kensington.”

  “Are we all of a sudden in a John Hughes film?”

  “Pssh, I wish—”

  “Dibs on being Molly Ringwald!” We both shout in unison and then proceed to crack up attractively with spinach and what looks to be sweet potato tater tots hanging out of our mouths.

  “Okay, first of all, I know you’re gay and you like my brother, but we might have to get married just on the basis that we both know who John Hughes is and have a mutual love of a certain red-headed goddess and icon of the ’80s. It would have to be an open marriage, of course.”

  “Then you got yourself a deal, honey.”

  We shake on it before giggling. I sigh in contentment, feeling lighter than I have in years.

  “So, Blaine?”

  Miles looks over to the boy that apparently has been ‘eye-fucking’ me—whatever that means. Although, if the tiny butterflies who are getting a decent workout inside my lower belly are any indication, then yeah, I guess I know what that means. And to be honest, I kinda like it.

  “Blaine Kensington. Possibly the wealthiest kid in the school, but unless you knew, you wouldn’t know it. He doesn’t have a flashy car. He either skateboards or takes a bus to school, much to his parents’ dismay, I’m sure. He buys his clothes secondhand, even though the dude has a black card. He donates everything. Saves the environment, supports the LGBTQ kids, stars in musicals, writes fascinating articles on the school’s website, and is a baller on the court. He’s literally perfect, and every single person in this school loves him. He loves them back just as much. I mean, one day, he’ll sit with the jocks, then the band geeks, outcasts, you name it—he hangs with everyone. He’s like a fucking unicorn. A really hot, rich-ass unicorn who can’t keep his twinkling eyes off you, which makes me jealous as hell, but I totally get it ’cause you’re like a hotter, browner version of Zooey Deschanel circa 2012, and oh shit—he’s coming over here!”

  My eyes widen before searching for Blaine and fucking shit, yep, he is coming over here. I avert my gaze and set my sights on anything but this Blaine guy, which means I’m staring way too intently at a rogue piece of zucchini in my Tupperware.

  I can feel a presence behind me, but I don’t dare turn around. Can’t help the small smile that spreads on my face, though. I lift my eyes to Miles and he winks at me before turning his attention on the male standing closely to my back.

  “B, how are you doing, my fine-ass friend?”

  A deep chuckle sounds at my back and something stirs inside me—nothing too major or earth shattering, but definitely something.

  “Can’t complain, Miles. How are you?”

  “Oh, you know me, fabulous as always. I would be even more so if you finally agreed to come over to the gay side of things,” Miles says with a head tilt and a cheeky grin.

  Blaine laughs heartily, and I can’t help but to join in. Feeling brave and more than that—happy—happier than I have been in months, I push my thick hair over one shoulder and glance up behind me. Blaine’s laughter dies down, but the smile remains on his chiseled face. He really is cute. He’s got this boyish charm-thing going on. He kind of reminds me of Harry Styles during the year before One Direction broke up, only with like twenty more pounds of muscle. But when you look into his eyes, like I can’t seem to stop doing, you see…depth. A depth that if he keeps smiling at me like that, I won’t
mind exploring further.

  Miles clears his throat and it’s then I realize, Blaine and I have been silently staring at each other for much longer than the norm for an initial encounter. He shakes his head just as I do mine, and turns his attention back to Miles, who is staring back at us with a knowing smile.

  “Miles, my friend, I gave it a lot of thought but unfortunately, I just don’t think I was born that way. But, if I ever go through an experimental phase, you’ll be the first I call, brother.”

  “Damn genetics.”

  Blaine smiles warmly at my new friend who is grumbling something behind the fork of romaine lettuce at his lips. When he trains his glittering eyes back on me, I think my heart skips a beat. Either that or my lasagna is giving me heartburn.

  Huh.

  “Hi,” I squeak out like a fucking chipmunk after a hit of helium. Awesome, Cady. A boy—a very cute boy—who isn’t the asshole who suddenly forgot how to telecommunicate, seems at least kind of into you. Get your shit together and step up your game, son! “Cady, er, um, hi. Shit, I already said that didn’t I?” I roll my eyes at my awkwardness and exhale exaggeratedly. “Hi, I’m Cady, and I’m not always this embarrassing. I mean, I’m kind of embarrassing, but not like this epically bad.”

  Good job, Cady. Well done. That was so much better.

  Sigh. So many sighs.

  Welp, I made it almost a whole day. Fuck, fine, half of a day before making a fool of myself, which in turn means I will have to switch schools yet again.

  And it was such a good fit, too.

  “It’s the eyes, Blaine,” Miles interrupts my inner self-deprecation that I have perfected over the last few years. “How many times have I told you to turn down the sparkle, man? It’s just too much for most people. I mean not me, obviously. I live for sparkle, but for sweet and innocent young queens like my new best friend, Cady here, well, I’m afraid you’re making her vajeen feel things that she’s probably never felt before—thus making her beautiful mind scramble like an organic cage-free egg at a downtown Sunday Fun-day brunch.”