How I Fall (35 page)

“You’re delusional. Maybe you should let me go—now. Help me stand up.”

“Ellen.” He’s just said my name all low and serious, just how he did when he kissed me. It melts my spine. “I’m serious.”

“No. You’re. Not. You can’t be. And—don’t say the word couple again to me. It’s so weird. Help me stand. Please.”

He shakes his head and lets out a long, frustrated sigh as I duck under his arms and struggle some, trying to disentangle my legs. His hands go on my waist in that same way he does when he’s picking me up for the school bus. It’s so familiar and warm, and safe feeling I almost want to lean back against him and believe his fast-forward theory. But I don’t. He gets both of us to our feet, but then he doesn’t let go of my waist. His hands are hot—burning through my shirt—as hot as his eyes are burning into me.

“What are you doing?”

“
Crap.
I have no idea how to make you hear me.
What if,
Ellen. What if you and I were just meant to be? Please tell me that I’m not crazy?” His eyes are wide open like he’s baring his whole soul. His expression is so bewildered and so vulnerable my breath—my whole heart—catches in the back of my throat as he goes on, “What if—what if? What if that kiss—a kiss I simply won’t believe you don’t think was something special—what if it could lead us to something amazing?”

I shake my head, my eyes pleading with him to stop. “Where could it lead us? We are on two completely different pathways.”

“But pathways are meant to intersect. Maybe that’s what this week has been for the two of us? And somehow we—
ugh, why am I not better at talking
—I don’t know. How about you and I try? Who’s writing the rules that say we can’t?”

I tilt my head to the side and twist out of his grasp. “What exactly does that look like to you? Really.”

“You hang out with me. A lot?”

I reach up and steady myself on the low hanging willow branches nearest me. “I plan to hang out with you a lot. We’ve got the whole project ahead.”

“No. I mean you—we—really, truly start going out.”

I blink. “Out. As in…girlfriend and boyfriend? In front of everyone at our school and so our parents—the whole darn town knows? Is that what you mean?”

“Yes.”

I cross my arms because suddenly I want to put both hands over my ears. As much as I want to hear what he’s saying—as much as I might have secretly dreamed this moment would someday happen with someone—I never thought it would be with Cam Campbell. This is mostly because the feelings I’ve denied all along have just become so huge and real as I look at his very sincere face, that I feel like I’ve fallen into some sort of wishing well that’s got no way out.

He runs his hand through his hair. “I’ve got a crazy schedule, and you’ve got physical therapy 24/7, so I know it’s going to be difficult. Nash is probably going to kick my ass, and Patrick as well. My parents are crazy and will not support me on this one bit, either, so you need to be aware of their crazy. It’s because of you as a person, of course, but because they’ve said I can’t have a girlfriend in high school. Then there’s the coach, who is also going to flip out. But I don’t care about any of that, or about them. I care about being with you and that’s more important. I’m sure I can work through all the other stuff if you’re willing to take it—me—on? And what about your mom? Will she be okay with all of this?”

“Yeah…I guess, but…how could you and I just start going out so quickly?”

He picks up both of my hands. “It’s not a big deal. It’s high school. That’s how it works, right? You’ve seen it happen. One day, people aren’t together, then you find out they are a couple.”

“Stop. There’s that word again.”

*Screams: no…no…no…no!*

He tightens his grip on my hands because I’ve scooted away from the tree and tried to back away from him, but instead we’ve done a half-turn like we’re doing some awkward Romeo and Juliet style renaissance dance.

He’s going on like he hardly noticed we’ve swapped places. “I know dating me is going to be a pain in the ass. My football season isn’t forever, even though it’s going to feel like forever now that we’ve made the playoffs. But when winter hits, we’ll be golden. We’ve got the holiday break and spring break.” He blinks. “All of those weekends, then there will be junior prom and…yeah. If you still think I’m not around enough, I will simply give up sleeping so I can text you all night long to make up for what I’m lacking.” He beams. “And of course, when we make it to summer we can hang out non-stop.”

“Winter, and spring? Prom to summer? All night text-a-thons?” I’m sputtering.

He blinks. “Too much?”

“Yes!”
I’m shouting now, trying to get my voice into his thick head. “
Summer.
Are you kidding? Do you know how far away that is from today? Do you know I’ve already got a full-time summer job in the film processing department of the drug store and that I’m already working there a few afternoons a week? Earth to Cam, have you not noticed that even the longest, strongest and
best
relationships only last about eight weeks in our high school! The way you’re talking, I wonder if you are going to dash out and get me a diamond engagement ring!”

He blinks at me and nods slightly like that statement doesn’t sound crazy to him. “Again, what if you and I are meant to break all of the unwritten and written rules?”

I sigh and lower my voice. “Look. Even if we did go out—when I actually—after hearing you talk, think I should have you arrested for stalking me or something—you are not allowed to think about the future and me in the same sentence.”

He pulls in a breath. “So…you’re in?”

I hold up a hand so he will stop talking. “I take one moment and one day at a time. Planning and expecting things to happen in the future—and to happen in a good way—points to heartache. I’ve learned that, in my world, tomorrows can mess you up. I’m only ever going to be about today where you and I are concerned. And, even if we only wind up friends at the end of this, if you dare to try to text me all night long, I will kill you. I love my sleep. So even then…one moment at a time—until 11PM—then we stop the clock.”

He’s grinning now. “Okay. Okay? So answer my question. Are you in? With me?”

I don’t answer as my breathing catches.

*Pictures Cam on a billboard. His hair is all windblown like it is now and his hand’s reaching out. His smile says trust me. Text on the advertisement reads: Camden Campbell, GATEWAY DRUG TO PUBLIC MOCKING AND IRRESPONSIBLE, BAD LIFE CHOICES.*

He goes on, “Let’s just explore a few more days of possibilities. You said it yourself. Moment by moment, day by day, right? And this has been a long string of really good moments making up one awesome day so far.”

The little hairs at the back of my neck are tingling on each of his words.

“What about the part where I’m heading to Ontario for my university years and you are off to the states to play football?” I challenge. “What about your current, popular
cool-guy life
and the part where I like to keep a very invisible and non-existent social profile? Have you considered the tidal-wave-level gossip that will hit if we show up suddenly—” My cheeks flush really hot as I go on, “holding hands in the school hallways?”

He sighs. “No. I did not think about the gossip. I guess you’re right, though. It will be pretty intense.”

“Unlike you, I can’t stomach being stared at, and you’ve got a flipping spotlight plus massive human entourage following you everywhere. Everyone knows a guy like you and a girl like me don’t match up on anything at all.”

He steps back, looking really sad. “But we matched up on that kiss. And we have a huge, shared love for photography. And we’re only juniors, right? Who cares about university? I also think you’re being a hypocrite, because no way is obsessing about universities how people live minute by minute.”

“I don’t obsess. I’ve set some serious goals and I’m going to reach them. Being anyone’s
girlfriend
was never part of my plan.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Things—goals—can change as other things and people move into focus. Even though the whole town thinks I’m going to the states to play football, it’s not what I want at all.”

“It isn’t?” I blink, surprised.

“No. That’s all my dad’s deal. I’m working on fixing it—getting out of his plans for me—so I don’t think our goals are actually as far apart as you might think. I’ve also got my eye on an art degree in Ontario. And,” he pauses, letting his gaze go over me in a way that’s making me blush all over again, “I think it’s obvious we match up on chemistry—or what did you call it—biology?”

He smiles then, and those stupid butterflies are thrumming against my chest so loudly I’m surprised they don’t actually appear. It’s all I can do not to reach up and touch the part of my lower lip that’s still tingling from that last kiss.

“We have the same sense of humor. And we’ve got Laura London to look after, don’t forget her. Plus there is this conversation between us which is huge, because we’ve gone heart-to-heart without too much freaking out, and I think it’s made us closer than ever.”

I cross my arms and meet his gaze dead on. “First, let me clarify that I actually am completely freaking out right now. I’m just really good at hiding it. I also think you have the same talent. If we’re going to do this on any level we have to be honest with each other.”

He nods. “Fine. I’m also freaking out a lot, but mostly because—crap—isn’t it obvious I’m terrified you are going to reject this whole idea?”

“I’ve got more.”

“What?”

“Honesty stuff. I lied about the number of boys I’ve kissed because the real number is—zero. Or—one. As of today. One.” He bites his lip like he’s going to laugh as I add, “And I’d like to address the
way
you kissed me…”

“The way we kissed
each other
really well, and for a very long time? Is that what you mean?”

“Yeah. Okay. That.” I shake my head, trying to clear it. “I’m not going to be
easy
or anything like that if we do go out. Just because I threw myself at you doesn’t mean you’re about to get lucky.”

“Of course not!”

“Well, it seems like the only place we have to go after a kiss that amazing is somewhere scary and into something that I’m not quite ready to try. No way. Not even. I really want to take things slow. Slower than slow.”

He grins. “Okay. Good to know. If you wanted to wait two years to kiss me again I’d be good with that too. You can make all the first moves, okay?”

I nod, too embarrassed to answer.

He grins. “As long as you smile at me and talk to me and I could tell everyone you were
mine
, that would be enough for a very long time—like until we’re in college at least!”

I cross my arms and raise one brow. “Please. I said one day at a time! Neither of us is allowed to talk about college again.”

“I know. I know. But
I’ve had a crush on you since middle school so I’m pretty sure a couple more years still has me over the half-way point of how long I’ve already waited to ask you out. The point of all this is not about college, it’s that I’m hoping you will understand my quiet perseverance and truly give me a chance.”

I crack up. “If we’re being honest here, then I should also mention I’ve been eye-stalking your attractiveness since middle school as well.”

“You have?
Yes! Yes! Yes!
”

I crack up more, because he’s added in a little fist pump and touchdown dance to his excitement. “Yeah, but until last week I also thought you were extra dumb.”

“What?” He stops the little dance.

“Sorry. You should know the truth. For years I’ve stereotyped you into the dumb jock category.” I shrug, totally unapologetic. Thankfully he starts laughing as I go on, “When I saw your hundreds and hundreds of football test images in Miss Brown’s class, I’d actually decided you were more empty-headed than most, actually.”

“Wow. Really?” As he throws his head back to laugh more, I scan his broad shoulders and square chin, and then my gaze gets stuck on his amazing smile. Suddenly all consequences and reasons not to date him are overshadowed by the single reason that if I say
yes
to this guy, I will get to kiss him, stare at his eyes, his face, his shoulders and make him smile like this as much as I want.

And he’s so darn nice.

*Pictures high school graduation, then university graduation. Wedding music plays. Ellen Foster goes mental.*

When I don’t talk anymore, he drops his smile and sighs. As if to remind us both of what just went down, the wind spikes and stops suddenly again. Another deluge of bright yellow leaves rains over us. I blink. And blink. And blink, wishing for the right words—for any words—to surface here.

His eyes go all sad again and he whispers, “Tell me what you’re thinking? Please?”

“I—think—I want to go the bonfire tomorrow. Together. With you.”

“
Together.
” The smile returns. “I’m so happy right now.”

My heart twists and those butterflies surge again, because the expressions going across his eyes seem as vulnerable and as scared as I feel right now. He steps close, and I let him pull me back into his arms. Arms I’m becoming addicted to even though I know I shouldn’t.

“But you have to promise me three things,” I say, breathing in his caramel scent and laying my cheek against his warm, wide chest. “Three things, or I’m running now.”

“Anything. Anything!” His grip tightens around me like he thinks I’m going to bolt and I lose all of my anxiety because I can feel his heart racing against his chest.

“First thing. I’m not a spontaneous person so don’t get all crazy with Facebook announcements or tweet about me, or add any photos on Instagram with #love #EllenFoster or go liking and favoriting a bunch of random stuff until we survive the bonfire.”

“Fair enough.”

“We are seeing how things
go
. That is all.”

He places his chin on the top of my head and pulls me a bit closer. “Define what you mean because if I can’t at least hold you in my arms like this or closer while we’re sitting by the lake tomorrow, I’m pretty sure it will kill me. #cruel #secretgirlfriend.” 

I laugh. “We’re not secret. We’re talking to each other. We’ve got an obvious crush. We’re hanging out a lot. We kissed. That’s our current status. If that means people see that or if it means we cuddle up at the bonfire and someone comments on it, I guess I can handle that. But until we know each other more, I can’t say we’re dating. It’s not fair to you.”

He sighs. “I’m only agreeing because my own personal life-garbage-pile is so huge it’s possibly not fair to
you
.” He furrows his brow. “Just know, if I could, I’d make you wear a T-shirt from this moment forward that screams: ‘Cam’s Girlfriend’ on the front with the words, ‘Already Taken’ on the back. I’m also fighting the urge to get the name ‘
Ellen’
and some falling leaves tattooed over the center of my heart.”

I burst out laughing, and he pulls back a little so he can look down at my face.