This Is Falling

by Ginger Scott

  “Hey, washed that McConnell baseball shirt last night,” my dad says, and my heart sinks a little knowing that Nate’s shirt will now smell like Tide and Downy.

  “Thanks,” I say, standing and moving to the trash to clear my plate. I can feel both of my parents’ eyes on me.

  “Friend give that to you?” My dad’s almost winking at me, and I’m so uncomfortable I want to scream.

  “Uh huh?” I ask, doing my best to avoid eye contact.

  “They’ve got a good team this year. Bunch of new kids; some really good ones.” My dad is fishing. My mom put him up to this. It has been two years since I have dated a boy. Hell, it’s been two years since I’ve been social with anyone outside of this house other than Ross, my pharmacist, and the occasional run-in with the mailman.

  “His name is Nate,” I say, rolling my eyes while I turn to face them, over-exaggerating my exasperation so I can act full teenager.

  “Nate Preeter?” Now my dad is interested. He’s a baseball coach, and he’s had a few players go on to some pretty great things. Of course he knows Nate’s name.

  “Uh, yeah,” I say, wishing like hell for an exit.

  “So this Nate…is he, a friend?” My mom has entirely different interests in the conversation, and the longer we dwell on the topic—the more I want to poke my head inside my own body like a turtle.

  “We’re friends,” I say, holding my mouth into a straight smile and concentrating hard not to let anything else out. My mom lets this sit for a few seconds, waiting to see if there’s more, and her slight smile lets me know she knows there’s more. But she also knows that one wrong word could trigger me into full retreat mode. So she lets it go.

  “Good. I’m glad you’re making friends, Rowe. I’d like to meet Nate sometime.” Her smile is soft. It’s that full understanding that happens between a mother and a daughter when they communicate without words, and it’s the first conversation we’ve had like this since those weeks before the shooting.

  “I think he’d like to meet you too.”

  Chapter 18

  Rowe

  I didn’t visit Josh’s parents this time. I had to stick to my promise to myself and let him go. My visit is never for him anyhow, and I knew they’d understand. When I left for McConnell, Josh’s mom told me she hoped I would find my life in Oklahoma. I think I have, or at least I found a way to start again.

  I told my parents I didn’t want to come home for fall break, and instead wanted to wait until Thanksgiving. I could tell it made my dad a little sad, but my mom stepped in and reminded him what a huge step this was. I told them I wanted to try to make it longer, to start stretching myself, and my independence. But really, I don’t want to leave Nate again.

  Because it’s early enough, my parents decided to use the airline credit to visit me instead. I helped my dad pick out a few dates that coincided with Nate’s second fall tournament. They would be in Oklahoma in a little more than a month. I just hoped Nate still wanted to meet them when the time comes.

  “Sweet Caroline” got old after about seven replays, so I switched to the playlist I had made for the first car ride to McConnell. I had sixty songs on that list at least, so every one was something different and a surprise, which made the last hour of the flight pass quickly.

  I started looking for Nate as soon as I pulled my carry-on through the gate, but he wasn’t there. I didn’t think he would be allowed to come that close, for security reasons, but it didn’t stop me from fantasizing. I wondered if he would kiss me when he saw me? I wasn’t sure how to act with him now. I wasn’t exactly sure what we were.

  Nate’s voice is unmistakable, and it hits my ears and then my heart. He’s singing—Neil, of course, in my honor. His tone is deaf, and he’s switching keys like crazy, and I’m pretty sure he’s making it worse on purpose, just to embarrass me. Then I see the sign, a ginormous pink poster-board covered in glitter and black marker looking for Miss Butstynk.

  “What? No ‘paging Miss Butstynk’ over the phone system? Nate, I’m disappointed. I think you’re getting soft,” I say, my mouth tingling just thinking about his lips.

  He pulls the poster down to his feet and steps in closer to me, reaching his arm around my body to pull me in for a hug. I can hear him chuckling deep in his chest, the best sound I’ve ever heard, and then he kisses me on the top of my head, and we start walking.

  I can’t get over the grin on his face, and the way he keeps looking at me every few steps that we take. A few times, he takes a breath, like he’s ready to speak, but he never does.

  “Flight was fine, thanks,” I finally say when we get to the elevator bank, teasing him, but also wanting to end this strange awkwardness.

  “Good. Glad old Neil could help you out,” he says, holding the door with his back while I wheel my bag inside. When the doors close, Nate steps in front of me quickly, putting his hands on either side of my face and lifting my mouth to his. He pauses for the tiniest second, long enough to check my reaction, and when I smile against his lips, he kisses me completely. It’s soft and tender, and he holds my top lip between his teeth for a few seconds while he moans softly.

  “Goddamn,” he says, backing away and licking the taste of me from his lips.

  Two more people get in the elevator at the next floor, and my pulse speeds up knowing they could have just walked in on us. I guess it’s only a kiss, and people do that in public all of the time, but before Nate, my only kisses were by lockers, under bleachers, on my parents’ porch—and in Josh’s bedroom.

  “So, Miss Butstynk. Where can I drive you?” Nate smiles at me, tapping his finger to his poster and winking.

  “The transplant office. I’m ready…to become a man,” I say, and when he closes his eyes to stifle his laugh, I know I’ve won this round. The duo with us in the elevator looks horrified.

  We leave the airport and merge onto the highway for a few miles before Nate pulls off again and stops at a place called Tucker’s Onion Burgers. My stomach growls just from seeing the sign.

  “Figured you probably need more than the tiny bag of peanuts for lunch. Mind?” He’s still so cautious about taking me places, and it makes my heart skip. I smile and nod, putting my hands on my belly to try to keep the growl to a minimum.

  Nate takes my hand as soon as we walk to the front of the car, and he keeps it tight in his until we’re comfortably seated in a booth in the far corner of the restaurant, our trays weighed down with what may just be the most indulgent hamburger I’ve ever seen.

  “I always wanted to try one of these,” he says, pulling the giant burger to his mouth with two hands and taking a big bite. “Ohhhhhh my gawwwwww.”

  I can’t help but stare, and it’s different this time, because I know Nate’s not pretending to be anything for me. This isn’t him playing some game where we talk with food in our mouths—it’s just him, being comfortable around me. I’m starving, but all I want to do is watch him eat, so I let him get two more enormous bites ahead of me before I attempt to taste my own burger.

  “Oh wow, this is soooo good,” I say, knowing fully well that an onion has just slid from my mouth down my chin. I try to catch it, and feel a little embarrassed, though I will never admit that to him, but Nate quickly stops me with his napkin, wiping my chin clean, and then leaning in for a kiss.

  “So, my parents are coming to visit in October. They’ll be here for the Classic Tournament. My dad, he uh…he’s kind of excited to watch you play,” I say, taking short glances at Nate while I talk and pick at my fries.

  “Oh yeah?” he asks, nodding, his brow a little pinched.

  “Yep.” It’s quiet for a few minutes after that, and I start mentally kicking myself for only saying yep, when Nate leans back along the corner of the booth and stretches his arm out so he can look at me.

  “I gotta ask. You’re not making your parents come here and having them meet me just because you feel bad, are you?” I didn’t think of it that way, but I can understand Nate’s reaction now
. I had some work to do to make sure he knew I was just as ready to take this step as he was.

  After taking a long drink from my soda, I push my tray away and drop my napkin on top, then turn my body so my leg is bent in the booth and I’m facing him. “No. I was supposed to go home again for fall break. But that was before,” I say, suddenly warm and anxious.

  “Before I made you feel bad about not wanting me to meet your parents?” he asks.

  “No. Before I realized how much I don’t like being away from you,” I say, waiting while his eyes stay on mine.

  His lips smile, and whisper softly, “Oh.”

  “That, and my dad Googled you,” I tease, just needing to break the tension.

  “What is it with you people and cyber-stalking?”

  Nate carries our trays to the trash and reaches for my hand at the door. He walks me all the way around to my side, opening the door for me while I get in, and then shuts the door softly, like I’m someone important—important to him.

  Nate

  I have kissed her exactly three times so far, and she hasn’t protested a single one. Once on the head, once in the elevator, and once in the middle of the best-damned hamburger I’ve ever had.

  When she said her parents were coming and wanted to meet me, I felt like crap for making such a big deal out of it. But I really think she meant what she said, and I can’t help but feel hopeful that she would rather be here, in a state dozens away from her home, than go back to the place she knows.

  There was still so much I wanted to know, needed to know. But I had to be careful how I extracted information from Rowe’s head, because so much of it is covered in the scars of her heart. We have an hour of nothing but conversation time, though, so I hope I can get to some of her best secrets today.

  “Oh, I should warn you. Ty and Cass…first fight,” I say, still pissed that I won’t be able to talk Ty into spending the night in Cass’s room tonight. Unless, of course, things have changed from how they were when I left.

  “You’re kidding? What happened?” Rowe asks.

  “Well, it’s probably Ty’s fault. Like I said, my brother’s default mode is asshole when it comes to women. Cass is really the first one he’s been with for more than a week, if you don’t count his go-to girls.”

  “Ty has go-to girls? What exactly is a go-to…oh…never mind.” Her innocence was cute. I forget how little Rowe probably knows when it comes to things like that, because she can make herself seem so sure and confident.

  “Right. Well, they ran into one of the go-to girls at Sally’s. Some girl we met when he came down here early with me for summer ball. And, well, you know Cass. She called him on it, pretty much right in front of the girl, and he ended up getting slapped by them both. Of course, now he’s all mopey and shit and refuses to go talk to her,” I say, glancing at Rowe to see her genuinely interested in Ty and Cass’s break up.

  “We have to fix things,” she says, and I can tell she means it.

  “I’m not sure it’s ours to fix,” I start to say, but I can feel her eyes snap to me quickly, so I stop. “But maybe we can somehow get them to talk?”

  “Yes. They just need to talk,” she says, pulling her phone from her purse and sending a text that seems to take her minutes to complete. “There. Phase one—done. Now, give me your phone.”

  For some reason, I willingly go along with whatever she wants, and reach into my pocket and hand her my phone. I’m not a meddler by nature, but for some reason, Ty and Cass being together seems important to Rowe, and maybe her reasons are as selfish as mine—wanting time for us to be alone. But I feel like there’s something more to it, and if it’s important to her, then it’s damn important to me, too.

  “There. I texted your brother, too. We’re having a little goodbye picnic for Paige, and they’ll both be there. Paige has a lot of alcohol, so that got them both to say yes.”

  Of course it did. My brother has endured far worse for cheap drinks. You make them free? There’s no keeping him away. “Okay, so where is this picnic taking place?”

  “Yeah, about that…” she has a tone in her voice that tells me I’m going to be sorry I asked. “You think you can sneak us onto the outfield, just one last time?”

  She’s literally pouting with puffy, full lips and sad eyes, inches away from my face while I cruise at eighty along a two-lane highway. I’m at her mercy. I think I was at her mercy the first time I scared her in the hallway. I nod yes, and she squeals—one of those girly noises I didn’t think she was capable of—she scoots closely to me and kisses my cheek. That makes four.

  “So, how did Josh ask you out?” I was feeling brave, all that confidence from her small kiss pumping courage through my veins. But the way she sinks back down into her seat zaps it all away. “Sorry. Should I…not go there?”

  She’s quiet for a few seconds, and I feel like an ass for pushing her. But I know Josh is the big elephant in the room. No matter what she said in her message to him, I know it takes more than just saying you’re done with someone to be done with them totally. I even thought about Sadie from time to time—granted, it was usually when I was drunk and trying out the Ty Preeter brand of post-break-up therapy.

  “No, it’s okay. It’s funny, actually. I asked Josh out, ultimately. He sent me a note once, in class, saying he liked me. I had liked him for a while, and I used to pretend to wait for my dad after practice just so I could watch him pitch. He was pretty good. I mean, I don’t think he would have played college or anything, but you never know.”

  I can see the pain flash over her face, but she pushes through it, so I don’t stop her.

  “Well, the note came and went, but he never really did anything about it. He never asked me out. There was this other girl that liked him. Trisha Harvest, I mean, her name sounds like a town festival, right?” She scrunches up her nose from the memory, and I can’t help but laugh at seeing this catty side to her. It’s not annoying. It’s honest and real—and I adore it.

  “Anyway, Trisha was sitting on the bleachers next to me one day, and I knew it was, like, do-or-die time. When he walked off the field, I pretty much boxed her out, like old-school Celtics basketball, and just blurted out asking him to the Spring Fling dance. And he said yes. And we were together for more than a year.”

  When she’s done, she just smiles, but there’s an edge to it, like the memory of it hurts. I want to ask if she thinks they’d still be together. But I already know the answer to that. So I don’t bother causing her any more pain. Instead, I dwell on the fact that she just told a love story like an ESPN commentator.

  “I cannot believe you just referenced—and accurately, I might add—both the NBA and the fundamentals of basketball in that story,” I say, putting the palm of my hand over my heart and sparing a quick glance at her. “God, I love you.”

  Oh. Shit! I don’t know where those words came from. They weren’t even in my mental queue, but damn if they didn’t just roll off my tongue. I look back to the road quickly, then I glance down to the radio to start flipping through channels, doing my best to play it off like what I just said was the same as the rest of our normal banter. I didn’t see her face for long, but I was on her long enough to notice her eyebrows shoot up to her forehead.

  I’ve thought those words a few times, but usually they’re future tense—as in “I think I could love her,” or “I might love Rowe one day.” But that’s a bloody lie. I love her. I love her right now. I loved her when I read her words to Josh, and I hoped for everything she said because I’m a selfish bastard who wants her all to myself. I loved her when she busted my heart with that business about not meeting her parents. I loved her when I held her in my arms all night.

  I was done the moment I saw her.

  But goddamn if I wanted to tell her that right now! Right now, when I’m guarding every move and word I say for fear of chasing her away. I need to fix this.

  “I uh…I meant that, like, you know…rhetorically,” I say. I’m not even sure if rheto
rically is the right word. I check to see if she’s still looking at me in shock. Thankfully, she’s moved her gaze to her lap, where she’s picking at the edges of her fingers.

  “Yeah, Nate. No…it’s…it’s no big deal. I got that,” she says, moving her face to look out her window. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

  But I did. And I do. And seeing her now makes me wish like hell I didn’t take it back.

  Chapter 19

  Rowe

  After Nate took back what he said, I became hyper-focused on fixing Cass and Ty. I was a little hurt at first that I had to find out about their fight from Nate, but Cass said she thought it was going to just be a nothing thing that would blow over. Unfortunately, when she went to talk to Ty about it a few hours later, he told her he thought they should take a breather, and maybe they were getting too serious.

  It wasn’t even my relationship—I wasn’t even sure if what I was in was a relationship. But the thought of running away for fear of being too serious made something inside me snap. Cass and Ty had to try, because how was I supposed to navigate being with someone if those two couldn’t figure things out?

  “Girl, this better work,” Paige says as she walks by me quickly in the hallway, her tote bag filled with way too much alcohol. Paige brought two of her new sorority sisters with her, which made me a little nervous, because I knew Nate was putting himself out there sneaking us out on the ball fields again.

  “Seriously, they can’t tell anyone about this. And no more people,” I whisper to her in the elevator. Paige just winks at me and pulls her bag in against her body.