Maybe I need to come clean to Trevor. Tell him that Grant and I are sort-of friends now. Let the chips fall where they may. I ponder that thought while I feign sleep, but realize quickly that the chips will likely fall with Trevor breaking up with me. And despite our fights, I don’t want that to happen. I wish I could talk to Quinn about things, but she’d be so one-sided. She never liked Trevor to begin with, so if she knew what was going on behind the scenes, she’d never let it go. Tess would be a good confidant, but I barely see her anymore now that she and Oliver are dating. And could I really trust her not to tell Quinn?
We get home late. Dad says I don’t have to go to school in the morning, so naturally, Maisy is upset that the same offer doesn’t apply to her. I debate whether to go or not as I fall asleep. I know one thing for certain – I won’t be going to gym in the morning.
I don’t make it out of bed early the next morning. In fact, I don’t make it out of bed before lunch. I wake up with the sun streaming heavily through the thin curtains – a dead giveaway I’ve overslept. I tilt the alarm clock so that I can read it. 2:25 P.M. I groan and grab my cell phone off of the night stand.
Seven missed calls.
One is from Quinn and Tess both chiming in on speaker phone, full of laughter and happiness. Asking if I’m okay and congratulating me on my medal.
There are six messages from Trevor.
I glance at the clock again. School will be out soon and I don’t want to be sitting at the house if any unsolicited visitors decide to stop by. I throw on some clothes, brush my teeth and bolt out the door.
I purposely leave my cell on my bed. Relief settles in deeper as I watch my house shrink in the rearview mirror. I have no clue where I’m going. I just roll down the window and let the thick air fill the car. It blows my hair into a knotted mess and clears my head. It feels amazing. Most of all, it feels real.
No Trevor. No Sam. No cameras.
I drive around aimlessly for hours, until the sun starts to set. I decide I’d better get home before my dad calls out a search party. He always gets anxious when I’m gone and don’t leave a note. I hadn’t intended on being gone so long. But I did come to a few conclusions as I drove around.
Decision one is that Grant had been a good friend to me. And for whatever reason, I can’t walk away from our friendship. Even if he didn’t initially tell me who his mom was, I feel a strong connection to him. One that I’m not willing to give up. Trevor will have to find a way to accept it. I hope.
Second, I love Trevor. I want things to be good with us again. I want to make him happy. And I’m going to be honest with him. I’m going to tell him about my friendship with Grant. I have to make him see that we’re just friends. That I’m one-hundred-percent committed to him. And no one will sway that.
Third, I can’t put my finger on it, but the last few months, I really feel like I’ve lost a part of myself. Maybe Trevor and Grant were both right (for different reasons); maybe the documentary was a bad idea. It will be over soon. And when it is, I’d like to go back to being me. Except this time, a version of me that doesn’t always have to put gym—and everyone else first. I want to have friends again. That’s not too much to ask, right? I miss Tessa and Quinn. I want to hang with my friends, and sleep in on weekends, and just be me. And though I haven’t felt normal in a long, long time, I want that more than anything. And somehow when this is all over with, I’ll get me back.
I wake up early the next morning. Sam did say I could take the rest of the week off from gym, but I’m feeling lazy and sore, so I decide to go in for a short workout anyway. Plus, the extra time I’ll have to get my thoughts in order will be a good thing.
When I got home the night before, I didn’t check my phone for missed calls. I wasn’t ready to deal with anyone. I even purposely get to school just before the bell rings. It’s become a habit: trying to avoid having to see anyone on my way to class lately. Unfortunately, my plan doesn’t work and Trevor is waiting for me right outside of my first class.
I slow my walk when I see him standing by the door. He’s leaning against the wall, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He has sunglasses on so I can’t see his eyes, but still, he looks a little sad. I immediately regret ignoring him the last couple of days. Even if I am thankful for the time I’ve had to get my thoughts in order, seeing him so down makes me second-guess all of my decisions. I’m slightly relieved to see that his face brightens when he spots me.
“Hey!” he says, walking up to meet me.
“Hi,” I say, nervously. I pick at a piece of my sweater that’s unraveled a bit, trying my best to avoid eye contact.
“Where’ve you been? I’ve been so damn worried about you. I called and called. I even stopped by your house last night but your dad said he didn’t know where you were. What’s going on?” He speaks so quickly that all of his words run together and his brief smile fades.
“I’m sorry about that. I was just so disappointed about not doing so well at Nationals. I didn’t want to face anyone right away.” It’s true.
He ponders this for a minute.
“I saw that you screwed up. Sorry you lost,” he says. His choice of words is a stinging barb to my heart.
“Listen, I’m gonna be late for class,” I motion toward the classroom door.
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he pulls me in close and crushes his mouth onto mine. It’s a way heavier kiss than is appropriate for school. I try to pull away, but he pulls back tighter, pressing his mouth harder on to mine. The warmth of his lips is familiar, and yet somehow, it’s forced. Raw. Urgent. He finally releases me and flashes a broad, satisfied smile. I’m momentarily confused by his expression, until I see Grant pause at the door before walking into class. The kiss and the smile all make perfect sense. They weren’t for my benefit, but for Grant to see.
I glare up at Trevor. He’s still smirking.
“Bye,” I say firmly and walk away from him.
“Syd!” he calls after me. He grabs my hand and spins me back toward him. I don’t want to fight. I just want to go to class.
“Don’t be upset. I just missed you. I just got carried away.” He looks at me with an apologetic smile that, if I didn’t know him better, would appear sincere. But I know he isn’t sorry.
“Okay. I really have to go,” I say. I want to go home and go back to bed. I should have known that coming today would be a mistake.
“I love you.” He says, totally oblivious to my mood.
“Love you,” I stand on my tip-toes and peck him on the cheek.
Grant is already sitting down, reading as usual. I honestly don’t have a clue what to say to him. I feel like an idiot because of Trevor’s little production just now. Especially after the last time we really talked. That bus ride home seems like eons ago. I’m relieved when he only glances up and smiles quickly before looking back down at his book. Maybe silence is better for us.
Mrs. Drez calls the class to order and begins her lecture. I take better notes today than I think I ever have. I’m nervous and want to concentrate on something other than Trevor or Grant.
The entire period is filled with uncomfortable silence. All of the things we want to say hang above us. I want to apologize for the PDA. But logically, what would I be apologizing for? Trevor’s my boyfriend, I wasn’t doing anything wrong. So, why does it feel that way when it comes to Grant? I make my way for the door as soon as the bell rings.
I’ve just made it to the door when I feel someone clutch my elbow.
“Hey,” I say to Grant. I shrug out of his light grip.
“Hi, Syd. I know we left things kind of weird with my mom and—” He runs his hand over the scruff on his cheek.
“Stop. It’s okay,” I say. I don’t want to hold on to anymore anger about anything.
He sighs and looks relieved. “And you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I watched your competition on TV. You did amazing! Congratulations.” His polite offer of congratulat
ions makes me frown.
“What’s with the frown?” he asks.
“Um, I’m not sure you were watching the right thing. I sort of lost, Grant.” I say.
“Sydney, Sydney, Sydney,” he laughs and shakes his finger as if he’s scolding me. “I would hardly call being the third best gymnast in the entire country losing. Why are you so damn hard on yourself?”
“Yeah, but—” I start. Before I can finish, he presses his warm index finger to my lips to shush me. Immediately my eyes dart nervously around the campus to see if Trevor … or anyone is watching. I lightly brush his finger away from my face and don’t finish my sentence.
“So, we’re okay now, right?” he asks.
“Yep.” I smile.
“Hey, what are you doing tonight?” he asks as if he hasn’t even noticed my uneasiness. I’m glad we’re off the subject of gymnastics, but the new question has totally caught me off-guard.
“I have gym tonight.” I stare at my sweater while I zip it up and down repeatedly, trying to distract myself and keep my nerves from taking over.
“After that?” he presses. “Since we agreed to be friends and all.”
Is he challenging me? Seeing if I have the nerve to actually hang out with him. Trying to get me to prove that we’re really friends?
“I don’t have anything after that. Why, what’s up?”
He smiles over the fact that I’ve accepted his dare.
“Nothing major. I just have a little something for you. Think you can you stop by on your way home from gym?” The confidence has returned to his voice now.
“Something for me?” I ask, willing my heart not to beat out of my chest.
“Just a little congrats gift.” He holds the door to our next class open for me.
“You so didn’t have to do that,” I say. My cheeks are scorching little balls of molten lava.
No one has ever bought me a gift for losing a meet.
“I know I didn’t have to, I wanted to. So, you’ll stop by?”
Like I could even refuse a smile like that.
I nod in response as I take my seat.
I pull in the large circular driveway at Grant’s house with the same nerves I had the first time I came here. I check my makeup in the mirror on my visor once more, then pin my bangs back neatly in a tiny braid along the front of my face, all the while, questioning why I’m bothering.
I walk slowly up the large steps that lead to the front door. Something glowing catches my eye. On each side of every step there are little green, glowing tubes. What in the world? I bend down and pick one up. Glow sticks. Like the kind that you get at Halloween, or from amusement parks at night. I stand there holding the tube, completely puzzled as to why they are lining the walkway, when the front door swings open.
Grant stands in the massive doorway, and a coy smirk decorates his face.
“Hi there,” he greets me.
“What’s with the glow sticks?” I ask.
His small smirk stretches into a large, amused grin.
“Well, with your track record on stairs, and it being dark, I figured I’d help you out,” he says with a wink.
“These are for my benefit?” My brows pinch together.
“Well, yeah. I figured flares would have been just a little over the top,” he says with a laugh. He runs his fingers through his thick hair. He’s so ridiculously handsome. Especially when you throw in that deep, genuine laugh.
“Oh, you’ve got jokes tonight?” I say, now laughing with him. I have to admit, it is clever, even if it’s at my expense.
“Well, you are awfully delicate,” he says. His tone is gentle and serious now. “Are you hungry? Maybe we should grab something to eat first?”
“Um, sure.” I wasn’t expecting dinner.
He leads me to the garage and opens the passenger door to his car for me. I sink into the comfortable leather seat. Grant slides sinuously into the driver’s seat and backs the car out of the driveway.
“Anywhere in particular you want to go?” He’s cheerful and relaxed. It’s such a nice change.
I shake my head. “No, I’m too indecisive. You pick.”
He nods.
“Are you glad school’s almost over?” I ask.
“Eh, it depends,” he answers cryptically. He turns the car off of the interstate now and I feel a little pang of anxiety when I realize we’re staying close to town. What if we’re seen out together?
“Depends on what?”
“Well, are you going to be allowed to see me over the summer? Or do I have to hope that we have a class together next year before I see you again?” he has a smirk on his face, but for once, I don’t think it’s real.
“That’s not fair.” I’m suddenly uncomfortable. He narrows his eyes at me.
“Maybe. But it’s a legitimate question.”
“Trevor isn’t a bad guy, Grant. He’s just stressed. He’s got a lot on his plate with lacrosse and college. He just doesn’t like sharing me, I guess. But, for your information, I plan on telling him that you and I are still friends this weekend,” I inform him smugly. It doesn’t feel nearly as good as I thought it would.
“Maybe you should let me be there when you break the news to him,” Grant says. His expression is serious. Maybe even a little pained.
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” I crack a smile to lighten the mood. He doesn’t reciprocate. I nudge his right hand that rests on the center console with mine, hoping it’ll make him smile. He clutches my hand in his for a split second, squeezing it tenderly before letting go. Even though his hand is warm, his touch still immediately gives me goose bumps. We pull into a parking space, and, though I know where we are, it takes me a moment to get my bearings. Because I’ve never been anywhere alone with Grant.
Marietta Square. But at a far different place than I’d been with Trevor. Grant’s taken me to a laid-back pizza place. I laugh to myself at the difference between Trevor and Grant’s preferences. Except for one thing. Me.
“Is this okay?” Grant asks.
“This is perfect. I haven’t had pizza in … I don’t even remember when the last time was.” It’s not exactly an “approved” food while training.
Grant’s hand rests protectively on the small of my back as we cross the parking lot, and when he opens the door, he pauses to let me pass first.
It’s an old-fashioned pizza joint, with checkered table cloths, and the best pizza I’ve ever tasted. It’s comfortable. As is the company.
“Are you ready for the Econ final? It looks like it’s going to be killer,” he says.
I stretch my short legs out on to the bench that he’s sitting on and smile at the casualness of it all.
“I think so. I actually really like that class.”
“What do you have planned this weekend?”
“It’s my little sister, Maisy’s birthday. She’s having a slumber party, so guess who is in charge of that?” I grin. I conveniently leave out the part about staying the night with Trevor Friday and I feel like a liar for it. “How about you?”
“Not much. My mom will be back in town.”
His mom. My producer.
“Don’t let it be weird, Syd,” he says, seeing the look on my face. “She’s got a party planned.”
I nod back at him. “What’s the occasion?”
He glances away, which strikes me as odd. He always looks me in the eye. Always.
“Nothing really.”
I’m certain there’s more to it, but I don’t want to spoil the mood. But with every smile, every wink, every breeze of his fingers on mine, I’m more and more conscious of how much I need to be honest with Trevor. If I tell Trevor about my friendship with Grant, and he still forbids me to spend time with him, I’m not sure if I can do it. The peacefulness and comfort I feel when I’m with Grant is almost addictive.
When we get back to his house, Julie is busy putting up groceries.
“Hi, Julie,” I greet her.
“
Hey, Sydney. Good to see you around here again. Did you guys go out for a birthday dinner?” She smiles at Grant.
“Birthday?” I take a minute to process what she’s said. “Grant, it’s your birthday?”
Grant runs his hand through his hair and laughs, but it’s stiff and uncomfortable, not like his usual carefree laugh. The awkwardness in the restaurant makes so much more sense now. Wow. He apparently enjoys attention even less than I do.
“Nice, Jules,” he says.
Julie shrugs, closes the refrigerator, and walks quickly out of the room.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Because it doesn’t really matter.”
“Of course it does! I feel like such a jerk. You just bought me dinner on your birthday!”
“Come on upstairs. I’ve got something for you, remember?” he says. He grabs my hand and leads me out of the kitchen. His long fingers intertwine with mine in that perfect way that makes me never want to let go. But I have to.
“Oh yes, presents for me, too. That’s just perfect.”
He stops halfway up the stairs and turns to me. He presses his index finger to my lips.
“Stop it, Sydney. Don’t try to find something else in the world to feel bad about. Just come upstairs. Please.”
I fold my arms across my chest and push out a pouty lip in defeat.
“Just humor me,” he murmurs irresistibly.
“Well, happy birthday, anyway,” I say. I uncross my arms and follow him up the large staircase.
Once inside his room, I plop down onto the comfy sofa. He smiles at me approvingly, pleased by my level of comfort in his space.
“Thanks for going out with me tonight,” Grant says. He pulls open one of his desk drawers.
“Thanks for spending your birthday with me.”
He sits next to me on the sofa. It’s wildly inappropriate how good it feels to be this close to him.
“I spent my birthday exactly how I wanted to.”
I can feel his warm breath on my face. I look at him. At his perfectly, unruly hair, a total contradiction, just like our entire relationship. At the small, brown, braided necklace he always wears. At the collar of his brown t-shirt under his white button-up. I look everywhere but his eyes. I know that if I meet his gaze, I will surely lose what little self-control I have and end up making a fool out of myself.
Risk the Fall Page 12
