Fall Back Skyward (Fall Back #1)

by Autumn Grey

  I hold my breath as an awkward tension fills our conversation.

  He licks his lips. “Green eyes. Red hair. Pixie-tall. Um. Let me guess. Cole’s hot new neighbor?” He grins, and reaches up for two mugs from the little cupboard on the side and then narrows his eyes. “I’m still waiting for you to sprout little gossamer wings and fly. You do have wings, don’t you? And a pouch full of fairy dust?”

  My breath rushes out of my mouth and I laugh. As much as I’m trying to be brave about working on this new me, I’m still terrified of being judged. Of rejection. “Be very careful, Blondie, or I might blind you with a dash of my glittery fairy dust.”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Blondie? Of all the names out there, you chose Blondie?”

  “Oh, what do you want me to call you?” I tease.

  “Edwards,” he says in a deep voice. “Simon Edwards.” He slides a mug of coffee in front of me and another to Megs, and then stands back and stares at us expectantly. I love the faint taste of nutmeg and vanilla flavoring he added in the coffee.

  “Good coffee, Edwards. Simon Edwards,” I say.

  He grins. “I like you, Keds. Your boy is in there.” He points to the doorway that has a little board with the words “Book Nook” on the door.

  “My boy?” I ask him, glancing down at my navy blue sneakers with little yellow and white hearts on them.

  “Cole. Go ahead,” he says quietly. And with that, he turns to focus on the little ball of fire that is Megs.

  “Oh, before you go, would you like to check out this amazing clothing store just a few blocks from here. They have discounts like all the time. You game?” Megs asks, tapping a finger on the side of her mug to the rhythm of the The Chiffon’s One Fine Day, playing on the jukebox.

  I nod and smile. I’m not really in a hurry to tell her that I don’t have money to spend on clothing at the moment. I try to save up every cent I get and use it only when absolutely necessary. I used to work in a candy shop on the weekends in Ohio. The pay wasn’t great, but it served me well during emergencies.

  When Mom married my dad, her life became all about being a mom and a housewife. She never went to college, which is something she really regrets. She once confided in me that my sisters and I have a college fund, courtesy of her and her parents. No one else other than her and me or my sisters could withdraw money from the account. The money would only be released to us if and when we started college. Dad gives my sisters and I pocket money. It’s not a lot, so we have to make do with what we have. Admitting this to Megs is embarrassing, which is why I let the forced smile linger on my face and turn to study the little shop while trying to work up the courage to walk inside the book nook.

  Standing up, I inch toward the book nook. My step falters when a group of boys and girls sitting in a booth a few feet away, stare in my direction and begin to whisper among themselves, while pointing at my arms. I bite the inside of my cheek and drop my gaze to the floor to block the judgmental looks.

  “I’m more than enough,” I mutter under my breath. “Nothing else matters.” I whisper these words over and over to drown out their murmurs and gawking.

  I’ve been working hard to nurture the new me. Hiding from people and feeling ashamed doesn’t help me achieve that.

  Raising my chin, I look up, meeting each and every one of their gazes. My momentary bravery might be stupid. Confronting them could end up hurting me even more than their stares, if they decide to use words as their weapon. But I have accepted what I did. I’m not going to stand by and let anyone make me feel like I’m a freak of nature.

  “If you have something to say, say it because it’s rude to stare,” I say in the most polite voice I can muster.

  They drop their gazes one by one.

  Relief bursts through me when a few whispered “sorry” reach me where I’m standing, nervous and unsure what my next step should be.

  I glance back at the door before me, suddenly feeling hot and as if my stomach is full of butterflies. I don’t even know why I’m nervous. It’s not like we don’t see each other every day. Or I haven’t stopped having inappropriate thoughts about his hands touching me, and his mouth kissing me. Heat fans my face. Gah! He will know what I’m thinking as soon as I step inside the room.

  I straighten, pluck a lemon drop from my purse and pop it in my mouth. And then I push the ‘Book Nook’ door slightly and duck my head.

  Cole is sitting in the corner next to the window, the light streaming in. His shoulders hunched over the sketch book, bottom lip snagged between his teeth as his hand moves swiftly across the page. He is wearing his trademark beanie. A copy of Peter Pan sits on the table. The edges are frayed and the cover is wrinkled and slightly faded. A collection of crumpled papers, pens and what looks like rulers.

  I walk back to the counter.

  “Did you say hi?” Megs grins at me.

  I shake my head. “He seems busy.” I gulp down my coffee and place the empty mug on the vintage Formica counter.

  Megs grabs my shoulders and spins me around. “Breath in. Out. Now go in there and talk to that boy.”

  I stumble forward before righting myself and send a pretend-glare over my shoulder at Megs. She gives me a thumbs up and winks, and I turn to face the book nook again.

  I wish I could read this boy. One moment he is sweeping me into the woods, showing me his tree house and opening up to me, the next he is quiet. Almost too thoughtful. I wonder what goes through his mind when he’s lying next to me on the roof. I remember how his thumb felt against my skin, the warm air fanning my lips when he dipped his head closer to my face. I was so sure he wanted to kiss me.

  My life has been full of uncertainties. I just wish I was certain of this thing with Cole. I’m going to find out, one way or another. I want to feel like I belong somewhere. And I’m hoping he will agree to teach me how to sign.

  The moment I step inside, I halt and stare around the room. The walls are lined with shelves filled with books to the brim. Four rows of bookcases stand in the middle of the room. Two-seaters are arranged across the room, giving it a cozy feeling. A few kids are perched on the seats, reading or chatting in low voices while others sit on the chairs, heads bent low over desks, working studiously. The music from the other side of the wall doesn’t leak into the room, so I assume some kind of soundproofing system has been installed to keep the noise out.

  I turn to face Cole, and as if he senses me, he raises his head and his eyes widen slightly. He’s been invading my space constantly since we moved in next door to his house, and now I’m invading his.

  The second Nor steps though the door, my body snaps in awareness. Only one person has the ability to do that to me. The one girl I’ve been fantasizing about for a while now. I was so close to kissing her when I took her to my tree house. I can’t seem to stop staring at her mouth, especially when she says my name. That bottom lip, fuller than the top one. Every time I close my eyes, I imagine how her mouth would feel against mine. I just want to kiss her. That’s all. Kiss her and touch her skin. I’ve given up pretending that I’m not interested in her, because I am. I’m admitting it shamelessly. Our nightly star-gazing is the highlight of my day.

  Right after our trip to the tree house, I lay in bed, thinking about my evening. She was easy to talk to, and she listened. The longer we talked, the more her eyes came alive, chasing away the shadows and pain from their depths. Other than her dad being the king of douche-dicks, that evening had been in my top five of all times. I can’t stop thinking about all the ways I could erase the constant look of pain in her eyes.

  And now, she’s standing in front of me, watching my every move with her big, innocent eyes. She’s pulling me into their lushness, and she doesn’t even know it.

  I’m in trouble, and I welcome it willingly.

  Clearly, I’m obsessed.

  My gaze moves to her mouth as I wait patiently for her to say something.

  Cole is still staring at me. Maybe I should have settled for our nightly
star-gazing session and let him come to me when he was ready.

  I shake my head to clear those thoughts. I’m here now. The need to talk to Cole, to be close to him, has surpassed all rational thought. It’s probably not healthy, but I need to. My desire turned into a craving that night when he came to the roof and hooked his pinkie around mine.

  I step closer, braving his stare. The only thing that betrays his nerves is the way his fingers fiddle with his beanie on the table.

  I wave at him. “Hi.”

  He nods once, but doesn’t smile back. His eyes are fixed on me, watching intently.

  I bite my bottom lip and glance down at my hands, feeling a little nervous. Lately, Josh hasn’t been around a lot. I’ve resorted to learning a few signs by searching the various sites dedicated to teaching ASL online.

  I bend my fingers to form a curve and bring them to my middle with the knuckles touching and then roll them forward and point at him, smiling and say, “How are you?”

  He blinks and the corner of his mouth tips up in my favorite almost smile.

  Success! I’ve managed to get that addictive smile and also surprise him.

  I pull out the chair across from him and sit down, enjoying that look on his face. I glance at the notebook in front of him. It’s full of what looks like geometric drawings. Elegant and beautiful and very complicated. I feel a vein explode somewhere inside my head. My eyes are drawn back to the notebook and the hand gripping a pencil. They are beautiful fingers. Long, strong, capable of inducing so many emotions in me with just a simple touch. They are artistic fingers.

  “Thought you might need this, Keds.”

  I jerk my head up and see Simon place a glass of ginger ale in front of me.

  “It’s on the house,” he announces with a wink.

  He turns and signs something to Cole. Cole’s lips twitch as if he’s fighting a smile and shoves his middle finger in Simon’s face.

  Simon laughs and leaves the room, shaking his head. Cole is back to watching me like he’s seeing me for the first time, taking every feature in before focusing on my mouth. I browse through the limited ASL knowledge in my head for something witty or clever and fail miserably.

  Angling my face to make sure he can see my mouth, I sign at the same time as I say, “I enjoy talking to you.”

  His gaze leaves my hands and returns to my face. He clears his throat, his lips twitching.

  Yep. That probably didn’t come out right.

  I clear my throat and wait until his focus narrows on my lips. “I enjoy talking to you, but you never talk a lot. You come to my roof, lie down next to me, breathe my air and watch the stars. But you never talk to me.”

  He grabs the pen and turns a fresh page on his sketch book and scribbles some words on it. And then flips it around and slides it toward me.

  You’re a terrible signer.

  Heat crawls up my cheeks and I look up at him. He’s smiling now. Grinning, actually. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  He pulls the notebook back and writes on it again before pushing it back to me.

  Use your mouth and speak slowly. I love to watch you while you speak.

  Holy hell!

  “You do?” Those are the only words capable of leaving my mouth. My brain cells. . .gone. Poof!

  He nods, his gaze still fixed on my mouth. I lick my lips, the courage that acted as fuel when I walked over a few minutes ago has vanished.

  He scrawls on the book, Something got your tongue?

  “More like Cole got my tongue,” I mutter under my breath. The boy sitting two feet away from us snickers.

  Crap. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.

  Something brushes against my knee. I jolt upright as the impact of it rushes through me.

  Oh God, his knee is touching mine. Maybe it was accidental?

  Yeah, right. I’ve known Cole for a while now. Nothing about his actions are accidental or innocent. They are measured. Deliberate. Precise.

  He applies pressure where our bodies touch. I’m no longer Eleanor. I’m a girl who’s hanging on by a thread, waiting to burst into flames. The movement stops and air finally finds its way back into my lungs. I should move my leg, put a stop to this torture. But I can’t. There’s a force that tethers my body to his. I want to find out more about it because. . .I just need to.

  Period.

  Time to regroup. Why was I here again?

  “Why do you come to my rooftop every night?”

  His gaze leaves my mouth and holds mine captive.

  He folds his arms on his chest and tips his head to the side. “Do you want me to stop?”

  The thought of not having Cole’s body next to mine at ten o’clock every night makes my chest twist in pain. But I need to know.

  “Why do you come to my rooftop every night?”

  “Why do you lay on your roof every night?”

  I sigh and smile. I can’t help it. “Because the sky is a dark canvas of endless dreams and fantasies, just waiting to be discovered. When I’m lying there, tossing my thoughts to the sky, it’s just me and the stars. Bliss. Peace.”

  His stare intensifies, studying my face for several seconds. He blinks and says, “I’m a huge fan of astronomy.”

  I roll my eyes, enjoying this banter a lot.

  “And you can’t do that on your roof because. . .” I raise my brows and purse my lips.

  His wide shoulders roll in a lazy shrug, but he doesn’t answer.

  I lean closer and his arms drop, the nonchalant pose gone. His scent slams into me and I have to fight hard not to launch my body across the table and wrap myself around him for eternity. The muscles on his forearm tense as he grabs the beanie with his free hand from the table. He clenches it in his fist as though holding on to the hat gives him something to keep himself from drowning in the tension surrounding us. I know this because that’s what I’m feeling right now, like I’m being pulled toward something I’ve never felt before. Something indescribable. Something phenomenal.

  His Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

  Do I make him nervous? Or is there something else going on behind those stormy gray eyes?

  I lift my chin, aiming to goad him further. “Why do you come to my rooftop every night?”

  He stares at me for a long time, longer than it should be legally allowed for one person to stare at another.

  He closes his eyes, those long spiky lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, and exhales shakily as though he’s forcing air out of his lungs. His eyes flicker open and he stares down at the notepad. His grip on the pencil is tight. He might snap it any minute now. He lets go of the beanie and runs his fingers down his hair before hunching down and writing fast. Once he’s done, he slides the notebook in my direction then leans back in his chair and stares at me.

  My heart’s beating out of my chest as I drop my eyes from his to the words written in a careless scrawl.

  Can I let you in on a little secret? I’ve imagined for a while now how your mouth would feel pressed against mine. That bottom lip between my teeth. I’ve wondered if you’d moan if I kissed you, how your body would feel flush to mine. I’ve fantasized about so many things about you, but most of all, I’ve wondered what you taste like. Sweet and innocent as you look.

  Holy hell! How am I even sitting down?

  Body: Liquid

  Brain cells: I’m searching my head to determine if I have any functioning ones left. I’m ninety-nine percent certain they melted like butter after reading those words.

  Heart: It’s not even mine anymore. He owns it. It’s perched on his lap, panting like an eager puppy waiting to be petted.

  Soul: He owns that too.

  Ovaries: I’m not sure mine have recuperated since I first laid eyes on Cole.

  I haven’t taken a sip of my drink since Simon brought it over. I grab the glass like a lifeline and gulp down half of its contents in one swoop.

  When I set it back on the table, my throat is still parched. I’m
still hot and my heart is beating fast.

  “If that’s how you feel,” I say and gesture to the note, “then why haven’t you kissed me yet?” I blurt out.

  Gosh, Nor. Desperate much?

  “I wanted to kiss you every time we were together, but I couldn’t. Do you know why?” He leans forward and brushes his knuckles against the back of my hand and says, “Anticipation.”

  That word is everything that is Cole Holloway. I’m never sure what he’s thinking behind those gray eyes. Will he smile at me? Frown? Not say anything at all?

  Cole pulls his hand back, his gaze never leaving mine. He pins my knee with his against the soft curve of the seat.

  Once.

  Once is enough to set my soul ablaze, fiercer and hotter than ever before.

  I cough and breathe and cough again, trying to get my body back under control before saying, “I came to see you because I want you to do something for me.”

  One dark eyebrow goes up and he sinks further into his chair. He folds his arms on his chest.

  I lift my hands and sign, “I want to learn how to sign.”

  HIS SHOULDERS START TO SHAKE right before he grins wide.

  “Yeah, yeah get it off your chest,” I murmur under my breath. I made him laugh even though whatever I signed was ridiculously wrong. It kind of feels good to know I can do that to him.

  Oh man, his smile belongs in a freakin’ toothpaste commercial.

  The mirth in his eyes fades a bit. He scribbles on his trusty notepad again. You just asked me if I want to take a piss.

  I gape at him. “I did?”

  This only pushes him to laugh harder, and oh man. His laugh is throaty so it’s definitely worth messing up the signs.

  “No. I’m just teasing you.”

  I pretend to scowl at him but end up grinning. I’m liking this playful side of him. It’s addictive and unexpected.