Touch the Sky (Free Fall Book 1)

by Christina Lee

  “Uh, come inside a minute,” I say, letting him pass me through the entryway. “This is my roommate, Ezra.”

  Lucas raises his hand in a wave and then glances around the apartment. Outside of the two bedrooms, we have a decent sized living room, a galley style kitchen with an island and three stools, as well as an eat-in dining area that Ezra uses as his studio. “Nice place. Is that your artwork?”

  “Ezra’s a painter,” I say, as I motion to his colorful abstract canvases. “He has a show coming up at the Paper and Clay Gallery next weekend, so these are some of his new pieces.”

  “Fantastic,” Lucas says. “I’m jealous of your talent.”

  “Lucas, don’t you still—” I’m about to open my mouth and mention that Lucas liked to draw, but as if he knows what I’m thinking he throws me a mortified glance along with a small shake of his head, and I keep my mouth shut. He must not sketch buildings anymore or just keeps that part of himself hidden. “I’ll ask you later.”

  As I slide into my hoodie I can feel his gaze on me. “Is that your standard uniform?”

  There’s a playfulness in his gaze, and as a smile curves my lips, Ezra grumbles, “Pretty much. Better get used to it.”

  The grin slides from Lucas’s face quickly and is replaced by uncertainty. He’s nervous about asking me to hang out and I need to get us moving before he changes his mind. I head toward the door and Lucas follows behind.

  “Catch you later,” I throw over my shoulder to my roommate.

  “Have fun kids,” he says. “Don’t come home early on my account.”

  “Nice meeting you,” Lucas says as we step into the hallway and then take the stairs to the bottom floor. “Is your roommate always—”

  “Like some nosy older sibling?” I say. “Yup. Who knew I’d miss being an only child?”

  He chuckles and I avoid eye contact with him as we continue down the staircase. After we walk out the rear door to the small parking lot behind the building, I feel a tug on the back of my hoodie.

  “You shouldn’t cover yourself up so much,” he says behind my shoulder. “You work hard and have the lean muscles to prove it. You should show them off more.”

  My stomach swoops as if I missed a step but I know he’s only being friendly, not flirty. “I guess I still feel like that scrawny kid you used to email way back when.”

  “We’re not those people anymore,” he mumbles and our eyes meet briefly and hold.

  I sigh. “Guess not.”

  12

  Gabriel

  Lucas’s car is a rusted brown sedan, which seems sturdy enough, but like his apartment, it’s definitely worse for wear. “So where are we going?”

  “You said to surprise you,” he says as he opens the passenger side door. At first I think he’s being chivalrous but then he plunks down in the seat and begins sliding over. “Sorry. My car’s a piece of shit. The handle on the driver’s side is busted. So I have to get in this way.”

  After we’re situated side by side, he fires up the engine, and pulls out of the lot into traffic.

  “You’re not even going to give me hint?” I ask as I attempt to get my pulse under control. I’m sitting in a car with Lucas on our way to who knows where and it feels really cool. And really freaking surreal.

  “You’ll see soon enough,” he scoffs. “Just enjoy the ride.”

  He turns up the tunes and we fall into a comfortable silence that just borders on awkward. I have trouble with silence sometimes, and my bouncing knee doesn’t help my nerves. “So what’s your work schedule normally like?”

  “Weekends are my busiest time and when I make the bulk of my tips,” he says as he maneuvers onto the freeway and takes the 2.

  “Makes sense,” I say, wondering where in the hell he’s driving me. “I’m obviously off weekends.”

  “You ever hit up any of the WeHo clubs?” he asks, before turning onto La Cienega.

  “Sometimes. Depends on my mood,” I say. “And how hard up I am.”

  “I hear you.” His gaze momentarily falls to my lap and I try to think of anything other than my dick sporting a chub.

  I wonder why we haven’t run into each other before now. I imagine watching his sweaty body on the dance floor at some club and immediately thrust the thought from my brain.

  I stop paying attention to directions until we merge onto the 101. It’s crazy, but all the freeways in the area are somehow interconnected. We make conversation here and there until eventually, I grasp that we’re heading to Glendale. Lucas makes his way to a deserted thruway that appears to run alongside the interstate. As I take in the sparse scenery, I realize we’re behind a small airport called Sherman Airfield.

  “What are we doing here?” I ask, my head turning in both directions. There’s only one runway and this landing strip doesn’t even have a radio tower. This is the kind of airport my uncle, who’s a pilot, said might be my best bet to seek out one day for lessons. If they weren’t so damn expensive.

  “You said you want to fly,” he says, motioning with his hand. “And this is the perfect place to tell me all about it.”

  He pulls off the road onto the bumpy grass and drives alongside the metal fence parallel to the runway.

  “Are we allowed to park this close?” I ask as I stare in wonderment at the airplane hangars up ahead, and a restricted sign clinging to the one of the posts.

  He narrows his eyes like he’s ticked about my question and I realize that I sound ungrateful. He planned this out after all. “I didn’t mean…this is very cool. I have no idea why I haven’t thought to do this before.”

  After he puts the car in park, we exit the vehicle through the passenger side, and he pulls a blanket from the backseat.

  I still don’t know exactly what he’s thinking so I stand there awkwardly as anticipation buzzes through my veins. He spreads out the blanket on the sparse lawn and sits down.

  “C’mon.” He nods to the space beside him. After I sink down on my knees he leans all the way back so that he’s level with the ground and staring up at the bright sky.

  As soon as I mimic his position I hear a propeller winding up and realize that a plane is about to take off from the runway.

  The rumble of the motor is such a rush that I gasp and then go completely still, allowing the sound to reverberate in my bones. As the plane floats into the sky like some magic carpet, I shut my eyes, picturing the pilot’s amazing view.

  In this position I feel hyperaware of the strong and warm body lying beside me. Lucas’s hand rests near mine on the blanket, lifting all of the fine hairs on my arms. When I open my eyes, his head is turned, and he’s watching me. There’s something like awe and admiration in his gaze and it warms me to my toes.

  Our eyes snag and hold and I drink in the sight of him—his curly locks fanning in a halo against the plaid pattern of the blanket and his long eyelashes brushing against his cheeks. Lucas thought up this cool idea tonight because he remembered. He remembered my dream. And it feels so incredible to realize that somebody knows me like that.

  “So tell me how you’re going to fly.” His voice is low and breathy and I have the urge to tilt my head and meet his lips. Taste his tongue. Our fingers brush inadvertently as he angles himself toward me and I feel a shock wave rush through my body.

  But there’s still a vast amount of space between us. So much we still don’t know about each other. Not anymore.

  “How about you share something first?” I say. “Something I don’t know from the past five years?”

  He inhales sharply through his nose and I think I’ve ruined it. This magical moment. My heart thrashes in my chest trying to think of what to say to fix it.

  “Okay,” he finally says. “Fair enough.”

  I exhale, gaze up at the soft fluff of clouds, and wait. I can hear how his breaths have changed, feel how his fist keeps clenching on the blanket beside me. “Luke, it’s okay, you don’t have to—”

  “You’re not the only one who went off th
e rails,” he says in a rush. “You don’t know the half of it.”

  My mouth gapes open as I angle my head to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark and unfocused and agitated and he’s completely on edge. I want to reach out and comfort him because I cannot imagine what brought on this change.

  “I was messed up too, only I didn’t have a good excuse like you did. Mine was just me being an idiot,” he says, looking me in the eye. “I screwed up. Got locked up in juvie for six months for doing some really stupid shit.”

  My heart falls like a stone to my stomach.

  “Shut up.” I sit up suddenly so I can see him better. “Are you serious?”

  He nods and lifts up onto his elbows. “Yeah. And I was going out of my fucking mind in there. I swore that’d be the last time I ever let myself get locked away.”

  I attempt to inhale a lungful of air through my nose, experiencing that familiar tightness in my chest. “I know the feeling. I never want to feel trapped like that again.”

  Fuck. Lucas was in juvie? What the hell did he do?

  As if he can read my mind, he says, “I was never perfect. You know that. I used to tell you some of the shit I did, but that…? Every fucking thing in my life changed when I got put away. I learned my lesson and turned myself around. I won’t be that person again.”

  I realize that my hands are clenched on my lap and I loosen them as he watches me, hardness yet vulnerability in his gaze. “You believe me? That I don’t do shit like that anymore?”

  “Absolutely.” I would’ve been his friend no matter what. Because I know his heart. At least I thought I did.

  “Want to know the most fucked-up part?” he whispers and my eyes widen.

  I nod and reach out to tap his arm in a show of support.

  “The worst part is, my m—”

  All at once, there’s an ear splitting roar that seems to come out of nowhere. I hunch my shoulders as both of our gazes snap up to the sky.

  There’s a low flying plane circling the runway directly above our heads. It’s as terrifying as it is exhilarating. It reminds me of when I used to sit on my porch just to get out of that stuffy house and wait for the jets to fly overhead on their flight path from Lindbergh Field back home. I used to imagine the aircraft slowing long enough to throw a ladder down to pick me up and off I’d go on some expedition. Somewhere that I wasn’t invisible. Where I was wanted—needed—for some secret mission. Someplace where I belonged.

  Openly panting we watch the plane angle into position. As it passes over us, I throw up my hands and whoop in sheer elation, the noise making my teeth clatter. I can hear Lucas chuckling beside me.

  As my heart rate slows, I realize the moment is lost. Whatever it was that Lucas was going to share with me just a minute earlier is crammed behind that steel trap door again. I can see it in his posture, in his expression. It’s just gone.

  13

  Lucas

  I almost told him.

  I can’t believe I almost told Gabriel about my mom. It’s crazy and confusing, because I don’t do things like that. People don’t need to know my business. No one needs to know that I couldn’t save her…that I let her die alone, but just like when we were kids, Gabriel doesn’t feel like just anyone.

  He was a computer screen to me when we were younger. Obviously I knew someone was behind it, but that screen made things easier. It was almost like we didn’t live in the same universe, so what would it hurt if I let him inside?

  But now, he’s fucking real. He’s flesh and bones. Warmth and a heartbeat. His big, blue eyes that see the world in a way I’m not sure I ever have…like he wants to think there’s a lot of good in it when all I see is the bad. Even his reaction to the plane today turned me inside out, because I want to be that excited about something. I want to be able to let all that passion and joy out, instead of keeping shit locked up tight inside me.

  I’ve never known anyone like him, even back when we were just names on a screen, and that’s what makes me fear I might let all my secrets out to him.

  “Do you wanna grab food or something?” I ask him as we make our way back to my car.

  “Yeah…sure, I could eat.”

  Nodding, I open the passenger door to my car, and then climb over to the driver’s seat. Luckily, I don’t drive too much in the city, but since we were coming out here, I knew I had to take my car.

  “Sorry,” I say again even though I already apologized for my car. “Rusty’s been good to me, but he’s on his last legs.”

  Gabriel climbs in behind me. “You have nothing to apologize for, and you named your car?” He grins, like he’s really happy. You can always tell fake smiles from real ones. Gabriel’s are real.

  “Rusty the Rust Bucket, but he doesn’t like his full name.” I wink and earn myself another one of his smiles.

  While we’re driving, we chat for a few minutes about where to eat. Gabriel mentions In-N-Out, and I shrug and tell him okay. It doesn’t take us long to get there, and less than fifteen minutes later, we’re sitting at one of their outdoor tables with fresh cut fries, and Gabriel has a burger.

  “You weren’t very hungry?” He nods to my tray before putting a fry into his mouth. I watch him, still surprised that he’s sitting across from me, wanting to know more about him, and even his diagnosis. I’m not sure if I should talk to him about it, though. How does something like this work? Do I pretend like he didn’t tell me? Ask him questions? I just don’t know.

  “Not really, but I also don’t like bread.”

  His blond brows pull together, a wrinkle forming in his forehead. “Why? Can’t be a carb thing since you’re eating the fries.”

  His question doesn’t surprise me. Everyone asks when they find out I don’t eat bread. Who the hell doesn’t eat bread? “Nope. It’s a texture thing. It grosses me out. I hate how it gets mushy and gross when you eat it.” I shiver and Gabriel looks at me like he thinks I’m crazy. “Seriously. It’s gross. It makes me gag. I have a weak gag reflex. I’m picky about what I put in my mouth.”

  Those last words make his eyes get even bigger. His cheeks suck in like he’s trying to hold back a laugh. “Picky about what you put in your mouth, huh?”

  “Aren’t you?” I cock a brow, before tossing a french fry at him. Gabriel manages to dodge it, his lips in a full-fledged smile now. “But yeah, I am specific about what I put in my mouth, and while I may have a weak gag reflex for things I don’t like, I can promise you it’s not a problem with things that I do like.” I let my eyes dart down, even though the table is covering his crotch. Gabriel gets the picture. His cheeks flush a soft pink as he shifts on the seat.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” he says, his voice grainy. “That you like it.” Gabriel tenses up and then his words begin coming out faster. “Not that it has anything to do with me. I mean, I don’t think. I wouldn’t mind, but I don’t assume that we’re gonna…that you will…”

  A loud laugh jumps out of my mouth. It almost startles me because I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that. His face is a full on tomato now, and I clutch my stomach as laughter continues to barrel out of me. “Holy shit. Your face is so red, I think your head is going to explode!”

  “Shut up.” This time it’s Gabe throwing a fry at me. It bounces off my chest because I’m still cracking up too much to try and block it.

  His eyes look brighter, bigger, happier, and I can tell he’s having a good time too. When we both settle down, I take a drink of my soda and then risk a glance at him. “I’m glad to hear you’re excited that I like giving blowjobs.”

  This time when he looks at me, I can’t read his expression, so I just let it go. Gabriel and I finish eating before throwing our trash away and climbing back into my car. We don’t talk much on the way to his place, but it’s a comfortable silence. It doesn’t weigh heavy on me. It’s one of those situations where you don’t really need to speak, and you can just be.

  When I pull up to his apartment, I turn off the car, even though I
don’t plan on going inside. I had fun with him today. It meant something to see him happy at the airport. It’s not often in my life that I feel like I’ve made someone happy. Maybe because in the past I didn’t take the time, or because I didn’t have the means, but today made Gabe happy, which in a weird way, did something for me, too.

  Strangely, I feel like I owe him because of it. Doesn’t make the words want to come out any easier, and doesn’t keep my hands from gripping the steering wheel. “I tripped carrying her to bed.”

  Gabe hits the interior light and then turns sideways in the seat to look at me. “Huh?”

  “The scar. You asked how I got it the other day. I came home to find her drunk. She’d been sober for six months before that but she was fucking gone. Wasted. Stumbling all over the place and crying. She got like that, when she was drunk. It made her sad because of the life she led. It made her sad for me, because she blamed herself for the shit I had to deal with.”

  I let a deep breath fill my lungs and then let it out slowly. This would have been a whole lot easier if he hadn’t turned on the light.

  “She’d feel guilty because she was an alcoholic, or because she thought I didn’t have the things I needed.” Really, I only needed her. Nothing else mattered. We could have lived on the fucking streets, but if she were sober, I would have been the happiest guy in the world. “So yeah, she was drunk and crying saying, I’m sorry, Luke. I’m so sorry. Fuck, it used to piss me off so much. If she was sorry, why the hell did she do it? If she felt so bad, why the fuck didn’t she stop?” Why wasn’t I enough to make her want to stop?

  As though he knows I don’t really need an answer to my question, Gabe stays quiet.

  “I just wanted to make her stop crying. I couldn’t handle hearing her sadness so I told her I’d help her to bed. I tried to carry her, but I was just a scrawny-ass kid. My feet tangled with hers. We tripped and I hit the corner of my eye on the coffee table.” I shrug it off dismissively. “And that’s where the scar came from.”