The Harder We Fall

by Mina V. Esguerra

“We’re about to graduate,” he said. “And we probably won’t be seeing each other again.”

  “Right, because I’ll be in Europe and Asia this summer.”

  “I’m serious, DK. I want to apologize if I’ve been an ass all this time.”

  Kyle held out a hand, like he expected me to shake it, and I looked at it with suspicion. “What?”

  “You don’t accept my apology?”

  “I’m not sure why you’re giving it.”

  “Look. We get out of here and we’re probably going to be strangers. Or colleagues somewhere, whatever. But you understand why I did what I did, right? It’s how the world works.”

  My eyes narrowed, and then relaxed, on realizing that Kyle really had nothing to apologize for. It wasn’t like he had done anything so horrible. He was being himself, and many people were like him, and I wasn’t obligated to like any of them.

  “Your apology is unnecessary,” I said, without shaking his hand. “You had a good run here in school. Good luck in the future.”

  “Any chance you’re dropping out of this contest?”

  I smiled. “No way, Kyle.”

  I waited until he had turned the corner first, and then made my way down the first floor hallway in the opposite direction, one that led out to the courtyard. Nicholas was there waiting for me. Sweaty, and in a shirt that I knew had started out as white, because I was there at seven in the morning to shoot him as he started a training session with the team.

  “You look…” I started to say, “Well, exactly like you did when I first saw you.”

  He looked like he was waiting for something, searching my face for a sign. Then with a shrug, he gave it up. “I can kiss you, right?”

  “What? Um, yeah. Sure.”

  “Because this morning—”

  “Right.” I hadn’t given him a chance to, because I felt I was working and it was unprofessional. Except yeah that didn’t make sense at all, because there was actual footage of us kissing already. Badly shot, but still. It didn’t go beyond tongue action last night, but we didn’t exactly have a relationship talk after. I had also never dated a jock before, so I was inexperienced all around. “I thought that maybe we shouldn’t, while you’re training. And I’m filming the training.”

  “You don’t want to be seen with me?”

  It sounded like he was kidding, but also not, and I wondered if there was something to it. And there shouldn’t, honestly. He was over six feet of no-reason-to-be-insecure, and also, he was off to a faraway land as a professional athlete.

  “What are you talking about? That’s not it at all.”

  The look on his face turned sly, and in no time I was pulled up against him, held in place by his grimy hands on my waist, mouth already moving over mine. If I had wanted to play nonchalant I had betrayed it as soon as the moan escaped my lips, and my tongue swept inside to find his.

  “Prove it,” he said, many moments later. “I’m taking you as my date somewhere tonight.”

  My mind was somewhere else, possibly on rewind already, reliving the kiss that had just ended, but apparently my mouth answered. “Where?”

  “There’s a cocktail party tonight here, fundraising for the team. At Ellerbie Hall. Do you know where it is?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, of course, it’s the function hall of Ellerbie-Katz. It’s where all the media classes are.”

  “Never took a media class.”

  “You don’t know where it is?” It amazed me still how I never would have found him, but for this. “Well, maybe I should go after all, so you don’t get lost. It’s for fancy parties, by the way. I’ll wear something appropriate. I hope you shower.”

  He bent down and nipped at my lower lip. “I’ll do at least that.”

  Chapter 7

  Steph said “Whoa” when she saw me come down the stairs and I wondered if I had overdone it.

  “It’s not graduation today, is it?” she said, standing right-side up from her downward dog position on the living room floor. “Of course not. They won’t let you graduate with that much arm and leg.”

  Oh it wasn’t just arm and leg, sister. I had also put my hair up, taking much too long to get it calculatedly messy, so that I also revealed more of my neck in this midnight blue halter dress. It ended several inches over the knee and the shawl I had brought in case the hall was too cold would be longer if I draped it over my shoulders. On second thought? Her reaction was exactly what I was going for.

  Then she noticed the camera bag (a nicer one than the usual, but still) I slung over my shoulder and dropped back down to her mat. “Oh this is a work thing?”

  “Both,” I said, waving as I made my way out of the house. Though this was a “date” I had asked to meet him there instead, so I could go a little earlier and take establishing shots of this thing, since it was apparently a rugby-related event. I had to circle around for a parking spot as my usual one was taken, as well as my second and third choice spots, all occupied by what I supposed were the guests for said event. This was fairly standard by the way. Ellerbie Hall hosted fancy functions several times a year, and I knew of up to five backup spaces. So far this was all turning out as expected, until I actually walked into the hall and saw what the event was about.

  He arrived fifteen minutes later, and he did a little better than just shower. He had walked in, right into my camera’s screen, and I was sure that I had caught my own involuntarily gasp. Nicholas could have been like any other guy in the room who was also in a suit and tie ensemble, also dark-haired, also working a slight stubble, also bronzed by running under the sun for hours at a time. And yet, no, he was the winner among them, if there had been a competition. He stood out, and not just because he towered over half the room, as well he should. Because apparently tonight’s event was in his honor.

  I watched, camera still on, as he walked through a row of handshakes and respectful nodding, without realizing yet that I was there. It was not effortless for him; he had the look of a guy who was happy to be there but wasn’t going to sing and dance for you.

  A hearty laugh interrupted my thoughts, and then a smartly-dressed Grayson passed my field of vision. Now that was a guy who’d sing and dance for you.

  Upon checking my screen again, I saw that Nicholas was looking straight at me. It was incredibly inappropriate, that look, like he had gone past the smile, the wave, the sweep of my outfit, and was now at wanting to tear my clothes off. I cleared my throat and snapped the screen shut.

  This was going to be a long night.

  “You’re not going to put that down?”

  In the minutes before I saw him I had captured the high ceilings of Ellerbie Hall, the delicate place settings on round tables set for twelve, the slideshow of archive photos from Nicholas and Grayson’s careers in the sport (hastily put together, but of course I would think that), the glass-topped table next to the podium that held plaques with their names engraved. I thought I was going to be there to see the Addison Hill sports officials, scouts like Mr. North, the guys from the team all cleaned up. Suddenly had to revise my mental shot list, wondering what the program would involve. Speeches probably. Interviews for sure. Would need to get the director or sports and clubs aside and ask for a few words…

  I placed a hand against his gray pinstriped tie as I rose up on tiptoe to quickly kiss him. “It’s off right now. You can’t look at the camera that way, Nicholas.”

  “Like what?”

  “Pornographically. This is apparently a banquet for you, guest of honor.”

  He slid an arm around my waist and turned me around. “It’s for me and Grayson.”

  “Whatever. You should have told me.”

  Not that it would have made anything different. I would have worn the same dress, arrived at the same time, felt the exact same urge to take that tie off his neck and nibble at his Adam’s apple.

  It reminded me of how little I knew him, that was all.

  ***

  I did still need to work more that night, so it
wasn’t much of a date. There were speeches, though not necessarily Nicholas’s because he said the equivalent of ten words. Grayson was of course on like a light, cracking jokes and downplaying the apparently awesome news that he had made the national team this year. The university’s sports officials kept grabbing Nicholas from his table to meet someone, say hello to someone, tell someone else about Japan, and it almost didn’t matter that I had to keep excusing myself too. Sitting with the audience always provided the worst angles for me, at least in that room.

  After making the rounds of different spots in the hall, I found one with an interesting view of the stage and whoever happened to be speaking this time. The program was over, but random people were taking to the podium like it was open mic night, announcing things and thanking people even as the hundred or so guests mingled among themselves. I was wedged between two of the caterer’s stations, but not as many people were milling about because dinner was pretty much over.

  Everyone told me I took too much video. I was always having to buy new memory cards, new hard drives, new cloud space. Right now I was filming the people, wondering what I could use this for, waiting for something to happen.

  And then it did. Not where my camera was pointing.

  We had barely touched throughout dinner, so the feel of his arm going around my waist, gently pulling me against his chest from behind—unexpected, but not exactly. More like, what took you so long.

  “That’s not interesting,” he said, a voice that started on the right side of my head and then ended with his lips touching my left ear.

  “No, it’s not.”

  “You don’t have to stop.”

  I was determined not to. I tried to keep a straight face, and a steady camera arm, as his mouth dropped onto my bare left shoulder, right as it curved into my arm. And left an imprint that was soft, then wet, then rough as he tilted his jaw and the slight stubble scraped my skin.

  “Nicholas?”

  “Pretend I’m not here.”

  Oh right, like I could do that. Like I could do that properly when he had placed another open-mouthed kiss only an inch to the right of the last one, but it unnerved me like he had touched me much, much lower. And this kiss was a lot more...involved. I felt the tip of his tongue sort of poke at my shoulder, lightly, and then swirl slowly, and I wondered if I tasted like anything. Probably like artificial apples. That was my body wash scent.

  His arm pulled me closer as his mouth dipped a third time, and even the pretense of keeping the steady arm left as I felt how much he wanted me, and I let my limbs fall against him.

  I dumped the camera in my bag. “Do you have a condom?”

  Instead of surprised, his smile was smug. “Of course.”

  Ellerbie Hall maintained its high ceilings because the classrooms were built around it. In my freshman year I spent a lot of time at room 305, the editing room, because it had computers that students could use to edit and render their videos. When I was learning to put a decent film together, I would stay there for hours, peering down from the windows to watch whatever event was taking place at Ellerbie Hall below. Then everyone else got their own laptops that could edit videos better, and even the media department chose to issue editing laptops for lending. People stopped using the room, and it became an unofficial library of footage of school projects.

  “It’s locked,” Nicholas said, his voice a low rumble in the deserted hallway.

  I shook my head and grabbed the doorknob, twisted it slightly, and then pounded the door with my elbow. It swung open, with a slight creak, as it always did. “It’s never really locked.”

  There was a light switch beside the door but we couldn’t risk it; it would be seen from the function hall below and someone would inevitably come up and check. I’d have to settle for the faint light reflected from the party lights pointed up, making my date’s handsome face alternating shades of blue, yellow, red.

  And then I couldn’t see his face at all because he was kissing me, devouring my mouth now, and the swirling tongue thing on my shoulder was apparently the polite version and this was, well, the better one. Director’s cut. There was a table near my right hip and in a second I was on top of it, knocking over something that clattered, and kept clattering, until seconds later it finally stopped, not that we noticed. As much as I wanted my hands on his torso again I knew that we wouldn’t have the time for a thorough exploration. I went straight for his belt buckle, fingers fumbling, and with a muffled groan he reached under my dress.

  My black lace panties were soaked, he and I discovered at the same time, and I pushed him back a bit so I could take care of it myself.

  “You want it now?” he asked, while I was stuffing my underwear into my bag.

  “God yes. How quickly can you get it done?”

  The smile on his face was illuminated red, a little evil come to think of it, and I watched without modesty as he released his cock, cradling it as he slid the latex on. It looked heavy and ready, so ready, I bit down on my lip to keep from begging.

  The table was too low though, or he was too tall, in any case the alignment was all wrong and he made the judgment call to hoist me up. My back hit something, not painfully, and my fingers connected at the back of his neck as he pushed in, first shallow and tentative, and then thrust in all the way, fast and deep.

  “Fuck,” he growled into my ear.

  “Are you fucking kidding me,” I muttered at the same time, rhetorically, already feeling close, already realizing this was going to be one hell of a ride, because I was starting to feel it inside, deeper than I’d ever felt that, and he hadn’t even moved yet.

  “You all right?”

  “Thank you for the concern. Please let’s just fuck already.”

  For a brief moment he seemed like he was going to laugh, but that passed because there was work to be done, and an intensity cut into his face. He braced the hands holding my hips up, braced me against the wall, and then pulled back, only to pound back in, and again, and faster.

  Each time he drove in, damn it. Each time, delicious, shimmering pleasure, as his cock slid in, and then the feeling of wanting to explode once he made it all the way. Again and again, each time the wanting to come apart was a little more desperate, and then a lot more.

  I wanted to kiss him, touch him, take his shirt off, but I had like three brain cells functioning. Everything else was gone, frozen, waiting for what was on the other side of this fall. And it was right there. Sure as the solid structure behind me, being punished with each fevered pump of Nicholas’s hips. Shit, I was doing this. I was fucking in the editing room.

  “Daria.” The way he had said my name was different, tortured, and the thrust that filled me right then almost made me fall over, jump off that cliff that I was imagining I was on. And it was too much, all of a sudden, too much even for me, and I had wanted to find out how high I could go.

  My three brain cells struggled with speech. “Faster. Fuck, please, I want to come—”

  And if it were even possible his hips and legs worked faster, and I was done, over, obliterated, gasping and crying against the back of my hand, while he did the same against my cheek. Breathing, trying to breathe, as his release shot out of him, about three thrusts after mine started, not that it was a race.

  When he slowly pulled out, and I reached out in the semi-darkness for my bag and some tissue, he gently knocked against the wood. “What is this?”

  It almost didn't register. I was distracted with other things, like how his face was so handsome in the blue, then red, then yellow light. That he was still wearing that damn tie, and he was checking out that little bit of reflection in the window so he could straighten it. That I was sweating out my artificial apple scent. That my hair was down, because the pins that had been holding it up were scattered on the floor somewhere, evidence if it ever came to that.

  I squinted. “I think that’s the shelf of VHS tapes.”

  He laughed softly. “It’s strong.”

  Chapter 8


  Excerpt from speech of Tom Mendoza, founder of Addison Hill Rugby Club

  ...and they were the worst of the bunch, did you know that? Do you even remember? Goddamn pretty boys. Always late for training, complaining about the heat, threatening to quit because they didn't sign up for boot camp. I remember when they came around. It was against Cypress, when that dude who was playing his last game took it on the knee and went down hard. And he was crying for his mama, that dude, big hulk, just crying. I saw it in their eyes then, Nick and Grayson’s, that we were doing this because it makes sense. Because you can't make dumb calls on your last day. And if you are just an unlucky son of a bitch and you have a bad day anyway, you can look back and tell yourself that you had better days. Now we have Pretty Boy in the national team and Monk off to join the Black Arcs, and I can't be happier.

  ***

  “What are you doing?”

  “Um, transcribing.”

  “You still do that? They have apps now.”

  “Only for the parts I know I want to use. What’s up, Dad?”

  Taking his call gave me an excuse to stand up and stretch, heading out to the kitchen as I held the phone in my ear.

  “So I think I should drop by anyway, sometime next week. We’re flying into SF to visit a location and I don’t mind taking a detour. Is there anything you want me to bring home?”

  My thoughts drifted to the boxes in my bedroom. I had started packing, yes, mostly the stuff I hadn’t used on a daily basis for a while now. “Yeah, a box or two maybe? What’s happening now?”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah, there. Are you out?”

  “I happen to be in a restaurant with Esme, yes.”

  Esmeralda, his girlfriend. Latest one. I shrugged and suppressed my comment, because we had agreed that it had to be like this. I had also come to accept that his inability to stay in a relationship for longer than a couple of years was his own way of dealing with what happened to Mom, and that was a thing that did not need my commentary.