Falling by Design

by Lind, Valia

  Falling by Design

  Valia Lind

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright 2014 Valia Lind

  All rights reserved.

  Cover designed by Mae I Design

  Ebook edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  For my parents,

  whose life has been the greatest inspiration.

  ONE

  "Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired." - Robert Frost

  I am official. Finally old enough to park within the privileged lines of the senior lot. Even the air, which is hot and heavy in Arizona's typical fashion, seems fresher. At most schools, money brings you status. But since Arizona Prep is a place of high academic standings that require exceptional entry test scores, we tend to overlook things—like what kind of cars we drive. However, parking spaces are a different story. The senior lot is within walking distance of the front gates. I feel like taking a picture of this moment to put in my journal later.

  I glance around the lot, smiling a little to myself as I watch my fellow classmates step out of their vehicles. Dakota sees me before I see her.

  "I can't believe we're seniors!" My best friend squeals in my ear as she launches herself at me. Her hug is quick, powerful, and if nothing else, her excitement is contagious. She dashes off to my left to tell someone hello as I continue to make my way through the cars. She'll be back in a minute so we can walk to class together with some juicy piece of gossip, despite the fact that it's our first day back. She's talented like that. I have to admit, it's fun to watch her talk. She bounces like a cheerleader on crack, even though she wouldn't be caught dead in the uniform our school wears. I let my smile blossom into a full blown grin before a force at my back slams into me. My feet leave the ground and I'm flying.

  Air rushes out of my lungs in a whoosh as I land on the asphalt. Pain shoots up my arms. My knees sting.

  "I'm so, so sorry," a deep voice says from somewhere above me. I glance up but all I see is a large outline against the glare of the sun. I shake my head a bit, trying to clear it. "I didn't see you. Here, let me help."

  The voice sends a set of shivers through me. He reaches for my hands, and I wince, the scraped skin burning. He mumbles another apology, this time grabbing me by the elbows. Heat spreads through my body and as soon as I’m on my feet, I take a hasty step back and away from him. The boy mumbles what sounds like another apology before bending down to pick up my books.

  "Brooklynn!" Dakota shouts, appearing next to me out of nowhere. "Are you alright?” She grabs the books out of the guy’s hands without sparing him a look, before she turns around and continues bombarding me with questions. “Anything broken? Are you feeling lightheaded?"

  "Calm down, D." My hair has fallen into my face. I push the reddish brown strands back behind my ear. "I didn't get run over by a truck."

  "Are you sure? Do you need to go to the nurse? "

  "I'm fine, Drama Queen. I'm not going to the nurse."

  As Dakota proceeds to look over my body for any scratches or bruises, I glance behind her at the boy who helped me. He's bent down again, this time tying his shoelace. I glimpse a head of full dark brown hair. The hands I see working at the knot are well toned and strong. My artistic side flares up as I study the melodic way they move, and a part of me wants to sketch them into my journal. My face heats up at the memory of those fingers on my skin. Get it together, Brooklyn. Dakota is still talking, but I'm watching the boy behind her. I notice one of my notebooks still on the ground next to him, so I step over, bending down to pick it up. He goes for it at the same time.

  Thousands of sensations race over my skin at the small contact. Dakota has grown quiet behind me, her attention on the two of us. I raise my eyes to finally meet his.

  "You!" I gasp. Seventeen-years-old and I still hold onto the memories of the boy who made my life miserable for years. And here he stands, Grayson Banks. My arch enemy from the time I was seven until the day his family moved away in sixth grade.

  "Well, well, well," he says standing up, his hand still on my notebook, "if it isn't Brooklynn Summers." I try not to cringe at the patronizing tone rolling off his tongue. His gaze sweeps over my body, caressing it with a slow, careful study, and I feel my face heat up with embarrassment. This boy has always made me feel self conscious about myself, even if all he does is look at me.

  I tug the notebook out of his grip as Dakota pivots around me, putting herself in the perfect position to protect me. I can almost see the list of questions forming in that mind of hers, because she knows exactly who Grayson is to me.

  "And Dakota, you look great. I see you guys are still friends." The last part seems to be directed at me, but I can't seem to find my voice.

  "Nice to see you too, Grayson," Dakota states, giving this demon in the flesh a bright smile, but she doesn’t move forward or hug him like she would any other person. She stands a little in front of me, her body language clearly broadcasting hostility. I try not to fidget under his scrutinizing gaze. I am a mature young woman and I can handle Grayson, for goodness sake. I'm not seven anymore.

  Straightening a little, I give him my best customer service smile, the one I reserve specifically for difficult customers. "Hello Grayson." His eyebrow raises a little as he smiles in return and I feel a small victory at the fact that my voice came out controlled.

  "We really need to stop meeting this way," he says, pointing to where I fell. The car door that hit me in the back is still partially open, and I watch as he reaches over to shut it after grabbing his backpack from the front seat.

  I try not to let myself get lost in the memories of the first time Grayson and I met this way. We were just starting third grade and that day began with me ending up on the ground as well. Grayson rode a bike then, instead of the four door Chevy he’s sporting now, but the outcome was the same. It was the day he began picking on me, unrelentingly. Pulling on all the years of dealing with my family, I level him with a glare and speak.

  “You’d think after all these years, you’d learn to study your surroundings before you bulldozer over them.” Well, that came out bitter. I don’t mean it to, but it’s hard when looking at the one pe
rson who never gave me any leeway growing up.

  I wait for him to say something, anything, but we’re interrupted as Tammy appears, pressing her size two body into Grayson's. The look of shock in his eyes is pure delight and I fight hard against the satisfaction that is probably displayed plainly on my face. He shifts uncomfortably out of the way, but Tamela will have none of that.

  "Heee-llo!" she sing-songs and I kind of want to rip her eyes out. She started this whole annoying fad of singing half of her words at the end of last year and I was really hoping she’d get over it during the summer.

  "I'm Tamela, but friends call me Tammy." The way she studies him in that lascivious way of hers is pure art. I swear, I think she takes classes in this stuff. "Are you new here?" She giggles then and I try not to roll my eyes.

  “I don’t know, Tamela. Have you seen him before?” Dakota’s voice is laced with venom, as she places her hands on her hips, staring Tamela down. I catch Dakota's arm before she does something we both would enjoy but get in trouble for later. These two have been enemies since ninth grade when Dakota took the seat in Home Education that in Tammy's opinion 'belonged to her.' Yes, it was next to a cute boy and Tamela still hasn't forgiven her. My own history with Tamela is just as ridiculous and dramatic, but I really don’t want to think about it as I watch her make a play for Mr. Menace himself.

  The other girl positions herself in front of Grayson without a reply. Surprise, surprise. But we all know she’s trying to make a good first impression. Boys tend to fall for it, that’s for sure.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Tamela.” Grayson’s voice holds a tint of amusement and I’m about to high five the kid for using her full name. She doesn’t miss that small slip, her shoulders tensing in frustration. Clearly, someone is not as affected as Tamela would like him to be. I squash the small sense of comradeship before it can surface. Grayson and I are not friends.

  "I’ll be more than happy to escort you to class.” Giggle, giggle. I mock gag. “Let's get started, so we have pleee-nty of time for a tour." She gives Dakota and me a glare before tugging Grayson away. He politely disentangles himself from her claws, but when he opens his mouth to speak, Tamela beats him too it, rattling on about classes and all the ‘cool kids’. Defeated, he throws a look my way like he's heading to his execution and I can't help but laugh. For a moment, I stand silently next to Dakota and watch him walk away.

  "So, Grayson is back," Dakota says.

  I sigh. "It appears so."

  We stand there for a second longer and then Dakota is in front of my face grabbing me by my arms.

  "Did you see how freaking gorgeous that kid is? Oh my holy hotness he grew up well. How does a scrawny kid of your horrid past grow up to look like that?" and this is where she fans herself. I shake my head at her over the top antics, silently agreeing with that assessment.

  "On the other hand,” my best friend continues, “Where the stink did Tamela Shamela come from? Does her mothership beam her down next to the every available boy on the planet? She has a freaking radar in that stick figure body of hers. Even I didn't know he was coming, and I know everything." I tear my gaze away from where Grayson disappeared into the crowd and do a quick survey of myself. No dust or rips anywhere.

  "Hello? Earth to Brooklynn? Hee-llo?" I glare at Dakota's rendition of Tamela, but she only chuckles. "Brooklynn you're with me here, right?"

  "Yes. Settle down already."

  "Never," she says—which is probably true. "But seriously Brooklynn, you alright? I mean that kid in there, he made your life a living hell for a while."

  "As if I need the reminder."

  "Maybe he's changed. And I mean more than just looks."

  "Or maybe not. I'm not holding my breath here, D. Tammy can have him all to herself." While I try to forget how his hands felt on my skin. I need to get a hold of myself here and fast. Since when am I so shallow that I get distracted by a simple contact? Since never. Remembering that would be good right about now.

  "No offense, love, but this is a great development! Brooklynn's enemy number one is back and he's gorgeous as ever. This makes for fun shenanigans. I wonder what he'll be like in—"

  "Okay, I'm putting a stop to your crazy before you hurt yourself," I state, heading toward the school once more. “I won’t be speaking to him any time soon, if I can help it. Our school is not that small that I can’t avoid him if I wanted to. And I do.” She pouts, stopping our progress, but I only have to grab her elbow before she's next to me.

  "Brooklynn," she says in a serious tone as we walk through the front gates of the school.

  "Dakota," I reply in like. She stops, turning to face me head on, placing her hands on my shoulders.

  "This is going to be a very interesting year," she says, ever the drama queen.

  I shake my head at her and smile, but inside, I'm afraid she's right.

  TWO

  How is it that our memory is good enough to retain the least triviality that happens to us, and yet not good enough to recollect how often we have told it to the same person?

  ~François Duc de La Rochefoucauld

  Grayson is in three of my classes.

  Arizona Prep is not a big school, about five hundred of us and everyone knows everyone else. New students are a special commodity around here. I'm pretty sure Grayson feels like a new addition to an exquisite zoo exhibit. Every girl in my class is gushing about new meat. He looks uncomfortable as he heads over to his next class, under all the long stares and whispers flying around the school. To them, Grayson is apparently the god of gorgeousness and they all want a piece of him. From what I’ve seen, he’s been polite to everyone who’s said hello and welcomed him to the school, but I’ve also noticed the uncomfortable way he fidgets every time someone puts him in a spotlight. Like one of our teachers did earlier. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy watching him squirm.

  The best part of the whole thing is Tamela. She has staked her claim, thus creating a particular onslaught of unhappy girls as I make my way to my history class. I've heard at least four girls whispering about Grayson in the span of two minutes. I round the corner, trying not to groan aloud at the girls behind me giggling over Grayson's 'sizzling abs' when I come into full frontal contact with the said abs.

  "Seriously kid, we have to stop meeting like this. I'm going to have bruises." Grayson gives me one of those charming smiles, but I won’t be detoured from my dislike of his person. I hate the fact that he’s always been taller than me. Any moment now he's going to pat me on my head like I’m a good little girl. Without a word, I sidestep around him and head for my desk. Maybe the more I avoid him the faster he'll forget I exist. Good plan, Brooklynn, good plan. I send a quick text to Chance, whining about he fact that he’s not here to make my day better, and to get his butt back home soon, without mentioning Grayson. I’ve had enough of him today, that’s for sure.

  "So you're just going to ignore me until I go away?" Grayson asks, sliding into the seat beside me. Make that four classes that he's in with me. What kind of school administrator came up with this particular plan of torture?

  I seriously cannot believe that out of all the schools in Phoenix, Grayson had to end up at this one. Besides Dakota and I, Chance, whom I haven't seen all summer, is the only other person I've known since my childhood who goes to this school. Dakota and I are kind of a package deal. Chance just likes to tag along. Well, and now, apparently Grayson has come to join the party. I still can't believe he's back and he's sitting next to me. I take out my notebook and pen, and place them on the desk in front of me before I finally, finally turn my eyes to Grayson.

  He should definitely wear a warning label on those puppies. Sure, Grayson was good looking as a kid, even though his disdainful personality took away from the pretty face, but he filled out nicely. Not enough to make him worth my time, but I’m still a living breathing human. And an artist at that. I can appreciate a fine piece of artwork from a distance. Chastising myself silently anyway, I force my hand
to stay down instead of doing what it wants to, like slapping myself upside the head.

  "Ah, there she is." He grins at my now upturned face. I roll my eyes, and turn back to face the front, whatever I was going to say forgotten. "Come on, Brooklynn, are you really going to be like that?" I try not to react to the way my name rolls off his tongue, because he says it as if he’s savoring it like it's the sweetest candy.

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "And she speaks!" His loud proclamation brings the attention of fellow classmates our way, not that they weren’t already gawking. I shush him with a wave of a hand, but he’s so proud of himself for getting me to speak that I can’t help but give him a small smile.

  "Now see, isn't that better?" I hear the satisfaction in his voice, and I almost want to take my smile back. Almost. He doesn’t say it in a condescending way, but as if he’s truly excited that I’m talking to him.

  "Grayson, you're a pain."

  "Aw shucks sweetie, I've only been back for a day and you’re already giving out compliments." Half the room is now staring at us, some with interest, some with pure disdain. How did I forget Tamela’s posse is in this class? I walked right past them to get to my seat. Her two Barbie friends are throwing me enough dirty looks to last a lifetime. I can't stand this anymore.

  "What do you want?" I hiss leaning in closely, trying for some cover of privacy.

  "What do you mean?" I see the flecks of green in his deep blue eyes, and I swear it should be illegal to be this gorgeous. Not that a pretty face will sway me, but it’s a little distracting.

  "We're not friends Grayson, so whatever scheme you're planning, I'm not a kid anymore."

  "No, you are definitely not a kid anymore."

  Oh the way he says that. It's like a whispered secret, racing over your body and into your very being. We're a breath away and I can feel his sweet voice like a careful touch. I can tell my face is heating up, and I know he's only trying to unsettle me. He's so good at it. Always has been.