Risk the Fall

by Steph Campbell

  “I don’t want to stop.” I let the words tumble out before I can stop them. He lets out a deep chuckle, because apparently my honesty is amusing.

  “You have no idea how much I don’t want you to.” He breathes in my ear. His voice is nearly hypnotizing me again.

  “Did I do something wrong?” I ask.

  “Sydney, be serious. I’ve made it completely clear how I feel about you. I’d like nothing more than to be able to kiss you every second of everyday. And then some. But you need to make up your mind about what you want. And who you want. I’m not going to be the other guy in this situation.” He’s still holding my hand and rubbing it along the side of his face.

  But he cheats on his own rules and lightly kisses my ear, causing the pleasure-filled vertigo to return.

  “Will you at least stay with me tonight? I mean, just sleep?” I ask. I don’t even recognize my own voice.

  He doesn’t respond right away. He just looks at me, thinking about what the right thing to do is. He’s forever trying to do the right thing.

  When he speaks, he sounds unsure, and maybe a little pained.

  “I would kill to be able to wake up next to you in the morning, Syd. But with Maisy here … it’s just not the best idea.” It dawns on me that it’s actually hard on him. He’s trying to convince himself just as much as he’s trying to convince me.

  I frown, a big, childish pout.

  “You’re making it incredibly difficult for me to be the good guy right now,” he says with a soft laugh. He lightly breezes his thumb across my pouting lip. “Let me at least get you up to bed.” Grant effortlessly scoops me up into his arms. My first instinct is to argue that it’s not necessary to carry me, but I decide against it. It likely wouldn’t do any good, and I want to be close to him. So this time, I don’t shy away from his grip on my thighs, and instead, bury myself into his strong chest and his clean, warm smell. He takes the time to walk to each of the lamps while he holds me and turn them off before heading up the stairs.

  “You’re going to have to point me in the right direction,” he whispers. Maisy has already gone to bed, and the hallway is dark. I point to my bedroom door, the second one on the right, and Grant carries me inside, holding me as close as possible.

  “So, this is your room,” he says. He glances all around, taking in the trophies and photos. I cringe when he stops to inspect a photo of Trevor and me. Happy. Close. Grant doesn’t flinch, or otherwise react. I get the feeling he’s not intimidated by Trevor, or my relationship with him, whatever that is.

  Finally, Grant carries me to my bed and sets me down. I pull my down comforter up over my body. I catch his eyes drift over to the alarm clock on the nightstand and I frown, anticipating his next move.

  “It’s getting really late. You’d better get some sleep. Big party tomorrow, remember?” he says.

  “I guess,” I concede with a heavy shrug. I can already feel my eyes getting heavier now that I’m in bed. It’s been a draining day.

  “I’ll lock the door on my way out. Call me tomorrow.”

  I nod and let my eyes close. I feel the warmth of his lips on my forehead. I can’t even dream anything this good.

  The next day is one of those busy days that leave you euphoric from having been so productive. Maisy and I clean the house, grocery shop, and rearrange the living room. Thanks to Grant breaking the ice, she and I talk more than we have in a long time.

  “Hey, Syd,” she says. We’re folding laundry on the couch. It’s nothing serious, but her face is thoughtful. “I’m sorry your plans got messed up this weekend. Sorry you have to stay with me.”

  I toss the t-shirt I was folding back into the wrinkled pile.

  “I’m not,” I say.

  “And I’m sorry I’ve sorta been a jerk lately.”

  “Maisy, you haven’t,” I say. It’s a lie. She has. But she’s my sister. My only sister.

  “Yeah, I really have. It’s just that I get jealous of you.” She’s analyzing three different socks to decipher which are matches.

  “Why in the world would you be jealous of me?” I’m floored.

  “You have everything. Gymnastics. The cool boyfriend. Or two,” she says with a broad smile. “And you had mom…”

  And there it is.

  “Maisy… I work really hard at gymnastics. That’s not something that comes easy. You could do really well at things, too, if you tried. As for Mom, you’re right. I feel guilty about that every single day. The boyfriend stuff, well, that’s a lot more complicated,’

  She shrugs.

  Maisy’s friends show up later that night. Dad had talked with each of their parents before he left to let them know that he’d be out of town and it was just me at home, but still, they all came to the door to check on things, and talk about gymnastics and the show. I hate being a spectacle. I debated whether to call Quinn and Tess to come stay with me and the girls, but decided against it at the last minute. I hadn’t really been a great friend to either one of them lately. I’m glad there’s only a week of school left, then I’ll have some more free time to devote to my friends.

  Grant had said he’d be spending most of the summer in New York. I felt queasy all of a sudden at the thought of not seeing him for months. I don’t have any trouble remembering the way it felt when he held me last night. Or the new brazenness I felt kissing him.

  But I don’t regret it. He told me to call him, but I’ve been putting it off all evening, waiting until Maisy and her friends were settled in for the night. I want to be able to devote my full attention to him. That doesn’t stop me from counting down the hours until I could make the call and hear his voice.

  I’ve been thinking all day about what he said about my needing to figure things out before there could be anything between me and him. I know he’s right. I love Trevor. It’s not as easy as Grant makes it all sound. To just walk away? I owe it to Trevor to talk to him and sort it all out once and for all. I know I should feel guilty that I’m putting him through all of this the week before his graduation, but I just can’t make myself.

  The girls aren’t nearly as much trouble as I’d expected. For the most part, they just stay up in Maisy’s room on their phones. I try to remember back to when I was thirteen, to what I did for my birthday. I can’t conjure up a memory. I probably had to train or something, instead of having a party. After the girls have raided the kitchen for dessert, they quiet down enough for me to make my long-anticipated call.

  It’s absurd to be as nervous as I am as I dial Grant’s number. He’d told me to call. As soon as the ringing starts, I realize that it’s far later than I’d thought. I’m debating whether or not to just hang up when he answers.

  “Sydney!” His voice is full of delight. I can almost see his smile through the phone. Brightening his entire face and crinkling the skin around his eyes.

  “I’m sorry to call so late,” I say softly, trying to disguise the girlish enthusiasm in my voice.

  “I was up,” he says. “How’s the party?”

  “It’s been good. I think Maisy’s having a good time.” I should feel awkward after last night. After I begged him to stay with me. But it feels too good to be uncomfortable. “Did your mom make it in okay?”

  “Yeah, she sure did.” The line goes quiet. He wants to say more, but he’s chosen not to.

  “Grant?” I ask.

  “I told my mom about you,” he says. “I mean, I told her that you’re more than just some girl at school.”

  My heart starts to pound so hard I can feel the thump, thump, thump of the blood in my ears.

  “Me? Why?” I imagine him shrugging on the other end of the line.

  “Because you’re important.”

  I’m not sure how to follow up a comment like that. He’s better at this than I am. I feel like no matter what I say, it won’t be an adequate enough expression of how I really feel.

  “I’m glad you came by last night,” I say. I can’t declare my true feelings yet. Not until I t
alk to Trevor. My indecisiveness hasn’t been fair to anyone. So I swallow hard and bury the words I want to say.

  There’s a rustling noise. I can’t tell if it’s coming through the phone, or if it’s in the house. I tense up as I listen for it again. Every muscle is tight. I’m such a wimp. I can’t believe Dad left me in charge.

  “Do you hear that?” I ask Grant.

  “Hear what?” So, no, not on his end.

  “Nothing, I just heard something in the house.”

  There it is again.

  “Do you need me to come over?” A tempting suggestion.

  “No, it’s probably just Maisy.” I want to accept his offer, but I’m sure it’s nothing, and it is super late.

  I hear a different noise, louder this time.

  “Hey, I’ve got to let you go. I need to check on the girls.” I hate to end this conversation.

  “Syd?” Grant sounds worried. “Call me back if you need anything.”

  I tiptoe down the hall and peer around the top of the stairs to investigate the source of the noise. I’m not the least bit brave, and while I’m confident there isn’t an intruder, I’m still uneasy. I slowly walk down the steps, wishing I’d thought to grab some sort of makeshift weapon. Just in case. All I have in my hand is my iPhone, and that likely won’t do me much good in a struggle.

  There are hushed movements as I turn the corner into the kitchen. I hold my breath and flip on the light.

  “Maisy, you have got to be kidding me,” I say. There, halfway out the kitchen door, stand nine girls, looking like ninjas and dressed from head to toe in black clothing, each holding a large package of toilet paper.

  I snatch the pack from Maisy’s grip.

  “Oh, come on, Syd! You did the same thing when you were our age!” Her friends look around nervously. I have to laugh at their terrified expressions; most of them are bigger than me.

  “Actually, no, I didn’t,” I corrected. I can’t think of a single time I’d ever gone toilet-papering. I wonder if I’d missed out on anything. In any case, I can’t, in good conscience, let the girls out of the house.

  “Sorry, girls. It’s not gonna happen.”

  They hang their heads, and Maisy shoots me the stabby eyes that I’d almost missed with all of our friendly banter the last two days. They trudge back upstairs like prisoners and I follow behind to grab a pillow and blanket from my bed. Sleeping on the sofa is the best option for the night; there’s no way they’d dare try to sneak out again with me right there.

  I stretch out comfortably on the long couch and turn on a movie. Love Actually, my all-time favorite. I recite the lines in my head as I doze in and out of sleep while the familiar faces flicker across the screen.

  “Sydney,” I hear the faintest whisper of my name and the tickle of warm breath on my ear.

  Someone is in the house this time. I shoot upright in a panic.

  Trevor is sitting next to me on the sofa, a thin, tight smile on his face. How did he get in here? It takes me a minute to remember the incident with the toilet paper. I must have forgotten to lock the door behind Maisy and her friends earlier. I squint to see the time on the DVD player, but my eyes are still too heavy with sleep to make it out.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask. Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t heard from him at all this weekend, but I didn’t expect him to show up like this, in the middle of the night.

  “I missed you,” Trevor says. He strokes a light line down my arm with his fingertip. “I couldn’t sleep – couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  “What time is it?” I ask. He looks around the room as if he doesn’t know, or particularly care and doesn’t answer me. “Wait, you drove all the way from the lake?”

  He nods. I should feel flattered. Important. Loved. Instead, I’m annoyed. I’m not prepared for this right now. I asked for some time, and he isn’t going to allow me that.

  Trevor leans in and kisses my neck. It’s rough and feels wrong. I can’t help it; I tense up at his touch and I’m positive he’s aware of the change in my posture. He pulls back slightly and measures my expression. Then ignores it. Because it’s obvious he isn’t here for me. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in close to him. His lips press into mine. Intensely. Full of hunger. With something to prove. The feeling of his tongue in my mouth causes an unexpected wave of disgust to overtake me.

  “It’s late, Trevor,” I say. I try to snake around him.

  “But we’re alone,” he says. He isn’t backing off.

  “Not even close,” I correct. “There are almost a dozen kids upstairs.” He isn’t bothered by this fact, and presses himself to me, pinning me to the couch.

  “That just means we have to be quiet,” he says with a devilish smirk.

  His hands move across my skin, over my stomach, along my collar bone, in a way that used to thrill me, but now, I cringe.

  “We need to talk,” I say. I try to push him off of me, but he isn’t concerned with my lack of interest.

  “I don’t want to talk, Sydney. I want you.”

  I’m so caught off guard that it takes little effort for him to restrain me and he easily pins my wrists above my head with one hand. He kisses my throat aggressively; the stubble from his unshaven cheeks rubs my neck raw and makes me recoil.

  “Seriously, Trevor, please stop.” My voice is more panicked than I’d anticipated.

  “I need you,” he says.

  My mind is racing. I can feel my throat tightening up. Why didn’t I lock the door? How did this person that I had loved so wholeheartedly, turn into someone that I’m totally terrified of?

  “Please,” I beg.

  I doubt that I could scream, even if I wanted to. I never would, of course. I’d never want Maisy to walk in and see me like this. One of his hands presses on my thigh, while the other slides under my tank top.

  “But I love you, Syd.” I just want him off of me. Just get off of me.

  “But, I don’t love you.” The words are stunning, even to my own ears as they tumble out of my mouth.

  Trevor jerks back; his crystal clear blue eyes are wide with surprise. His movement creates a small enough gap for me to slide out from under him and I scramble up and stand on the opposite side of the room.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I told you that I needed some time,” I whisper. I’m trying to keep my voice low so Maisy doesn’t come down, but, also, I can’t muster up anything bigger.

  “And I gave it to you,” he says, categorically.

  “No, not really,” I say, staring at my intertwined fingers.

  He works his jaw back and forth.

  “So, that’s it?”

  “I—I guess so.”

  I can already hear the stories about how crazy I am for breaking up with someone so perfect. Or, maybe they’ll spin them to say that Trevor left me. No one would be the least bit surprised by that.

  “I could have done so much better,” he says callously. My gaze darts to him. He’s shaking his head, and his lips curve into a thin smirk. “I can’t believe I wasted so much time with you.”

  I can’t believe he’s turning what we had into something so meaningless. I can’t respond. I just stand there, frozen in the middle of the living room. The TV continues to flicker the opening sequence to the movie over and over. A large, red heart covers the screen. I’m terrified. I’m angry. I’m breaking. But the irony of the heart in this situation makes me crack the smallest of nervous smiles.

  Trevor catches it.

  “Are you laughing at me?” He steps closer.

  “No,” I say meekly. I look back down at my hands again. “I think you should go.”

  He continues toward me until I’m cornered against the wall. He hasn’t even touched me, but I immediately have to take smaller breaths. I look around him for an exit as I try to calm myself to make breathing easier.

  “Are you seriously laughing at me?” His forehead presses against mine. His eyes are locked on mine.
>
  I shake my head.

  “Who do you think you are, Sydney? You’re nothing. Do you think you’re special because of the whole gymnastics bit? You lost, remember? Or your stupid TV show? Or that people should feel sorry for you because your mom died? Because I’ll tell you something, nobody gives a damn about any of that – or you. You were nothing before me. Nothing.” He laughs a low, malicious scoff. I’ve never heard anything like it.

  I feel my legs start to shake. They’re strong, but they are going to give out. I’m sure of it.

  I try to speak. I try to tell him that he’s right. I am nothing. Just please go. But I can’t. My lips won’t cooperate.

  His eyes narrow and his rage is growing, even though I haven’t said a word.

  “Wait a second. You’re already involved with that asshole, aren’t you? That’s why you think you’re the shit all of a sudden.” He reaches up and his hand presses on my airway.

  I stare at him. Blankly. Because what else can I do? I need to lie. Deny, I tell myself. Just deny it. But I’m too paralyzed by fear to do anything. I stand where I am. Mute. Defenseless.

  He tugs violently on my arm and flings me to the floor, not like the ball of muscle that I actually am, but like a ragdoll. I gasp from the pain as my face smacks into the hard wood floor. Our eyes lock again. I know that, despite all of his anger, the Trevor I’d originally loved is in there somewhere. And, as if on cue, his face softens a bit.

  “I’m sorry,” I whimper.

  “Syd—”

  “I’m really sorry things turned out this way,” I say. I’m dazed from the pounding in my head. This must be what it feels like to be the bad kind of drunk, when it’s not fun anymore.

  “I’m sorry, too, baby. I just want things to get back to the way they were before he came along and ruined everything.” Trevor reaches his hand out for me. He’s obviously misinterpreted my apology.

  “No,” I whisper. He cocks his head to the side in confusion. “We can’t go back, Trevor. And right now, I just need you to go.” I start to get up off the floor, but am knocked back down almost instantly by a fist to my face. I feel like my body is deflating. The pain is so staggering and so unexpected.