The Girl Who Fell (14 page)

I feel totally abandoned.

And I can't go home. I know Mom's apology is waiting for me there, but I can't get my head around Dad's return or their Monday night dates or any of it. Not enough to talk to Mom openly, the way she deserves.

Not while all I can think of is Alec feeling so far away. I am rudderless without field hockey to fill the afternoon hours, so I disappear into the town library, try to catch up on the work I've let slide. I'm not nearly done when the library closes at six o'clock. I check my phone and there are no texts, no missed calls. I pull out of the parking lot for home, but drive to Alec's instead.

He answers the door, steps outside onto the stoop with me. His hair glistens from his post-practice shower. “What's going on?”

“Are you mad at me?”

He rubs his arms for warmth, looks out at the dark, stagnant neighborhood. “Not mad. Disappointed, maybe.”

I search for an answer in his eyes. “Why?”

“You ditched me this morning. I gave you a card, Zephyr, and you didn't even stick around long enough to open it. It was like . . . like I didn't matter or something.”

I think back to this morning, Karen and the girls pulling me away. “That was the team, not me.”

He looks at me hard. “You could have asked them to wait.”

“I didn't realize . . .”

“Look, I get it, they're your friends.” He tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “But I'm your boyfriend. At least, I think so, right?”

“Yes, of course! Please don't doubt that.”

“Do you know how nervous I was to give you that card? And then you just walked away?”

“I'm really sorry. I felt like hell all day if that's any consolation. I knew something was wrong.”

“I'm not a big fan of hashing out my private issues in front of other people.”

“I get that.”

“Do you?” He searches my face, finds my eyes. “Do you get how much I'm into you, or how much it killed me when you blew me off to hang with Slice? I thought you needed help with your mom and then I find out you're go-carting with another guy . . .”

“And Lizzie and Lani. And it wasn't my idea. I would've rather been with you.”

“Ever since we met at the park, I've been freaking out that you dig on Slice and you're only with me as . . . I don't know . . . a placeholder or something.”

“Uh, no. You couldn't be more wrong.”

“I'm not sure I am wrong.”

“There was this thing between us but it meant nothing. Noth. Ing.”

“What thing?” His eyes narrow.

I force a dismissive tone. “Around the time I met you, Gregg kissed me.”

He steps back, releases a burdened laugh. “That's what all that tension was between you two?”

“Only because it was a mistake.”

“Zephyr, you can't even know . . . God, just hearing you and Slice kissed makes me insanely jealous.”

The world trembles as I watch Alec flush white. “I didn't want to kiss him.”

“How can I know that?”

Are we really fighting over something so ridiculous? “Because Gregg's kiss was wrong. It only lasted for, like, two seconds before I pushed him away.”

“You can't know something's wrong in two seconds. It had to last longer than that.”

“Maybe, but not much. I swear.” Then, because his posture straightens, recoils from me, I draw up an enormous betrayal. “Gregg's tongue felt awful—like kissing a brother. I had to rinse my mouth out with alcohol.” I hesitate a step closer. “You're the only one I want to kiss. Most times I never want to stop kissing you.” There it is. All out there.

Alec sighs, softens. “This is so messed up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Now you know what an insecure mess I am. Shit, Zephyr, I'm making you explain something that happened before we were even dating. That's nuts.”

“It's not. Don't you think I wonder about your old girlfriends? But I don't ask because it will make me insane.”

“Really?”

“Duh.” I smile.

He leans in with a soft kiss but I pull him closer, my hunger for him rising. He twists me with his kiss, my back bumping against the door's brass knocker with a dull ring. His hands quickly explore my body, the ridges of my hips, the layers under my jacket. But just when my head has emptied of all its worries and there is nothing else but Alec, his touch disappears, leaving me fevered and wanting.

He finds my ear, fills it with his words. “You're sure it's okay when I kiss you?”

“So sure.” My focus is singular: I want to go inside with him. Go to that place only he can take me.

He pulls away. “But don't you worry it might be too much?”

“Too much?” My words squeak into the air between us, barely strong enough to hold themselves upright.

“This.” He moves his finger between us. “I told you this scares the shit out of me. I don't know if I—”

“It scares me too. All the time.”

He searches my face, reads my sincerity. I watch his lips as he says, “You should go.”

Go? “Go?”

He signals toward the house. “I've gotta do some stuff. Just like you . . . this morning.”

My senses blink back to reality. The impervious granite block under my feet turns liquid. “I said I was sorry.” It is a frail attempt to bring him back, have him lasso me with his arms.

“I know, but I need to be careful with you, Zephyr.”

I pull breath into my lungs, but it's labored, struggling. I search his eyes for tenderness, but all I see is hurt. So similar to Gregg's, but the ache to heal Alec roars primal within me. The need drums desperate. “I would never hurt you.”

“But don't you see that's the problem? I'm scared you can hurt me without even knowing it.”

Sickness swirls my middle.

“I really do have to go.” He gestures to the door and I step aside. Alec disappears into his house, the lock bolting his only good-bye.

I scramble down the steps, into my car, holding back the tears until I'm out of his cul-de-sac. I want to make time for him now, give him everything. Make it right.

Driving away, my brain explodes with questions like
How do girls do this?
Handle relationships and friends and insecurities? Or do they? I think of all the drunken drama sessions at parties, all the tears in the girls' bathroom at Sudbury High.

I am tortured by a fear that tickles up my spine:

I'm not good enough for him.

I don't know how to do any of this.

I'm a terrible girlfriend.

I almost
want
to vomit, bring up the sick and purge this stir of anxiety. I wasn't even lying last night when I told Mom I wasn't feeling well and avoided having to reconcile. I got zero sleep thinking about Alec and he's the only thing my mind can focus on now, despite Mr. Frank's earnest attempts to convince us that the Pythagorean theorem is education's most significant piece of information. I crouch over my trig text. Triangles morph into a maze under my unfocused stare.

Time mocks me, slowing down on purpose, like it can sense how much I need to see Alec, make everything right with us.

When I hear a familiar laugh swelling just outside the open door, my attention darts to the hallway where Gregg's walking by, flanked by adoring underclassmen, his arm strung around Lani. I strain in my seat searching for the particular edges of Alec's hairline. I could get up. Get a hall pass.

But Alec isn't with Gregg's pack, and my body deflates against the stiff plastic seat. I bite at my already raw thumbnail, practicing my apology to Alec the way I rehearsed it in my head—and in front of my mirror—an obsessive number of times last night. I only hope my words are good enough. They have to be good enough.

Oh god. What if
I'm
not good enough? It's the same question that's haunted me since summer.

Sick rumbles deeper in my stomach. I need Alec to tell me we're okay. I need his hands on my hips, his breath mixed with mine. I want that closeness back and I want Alec to know I'd never jeopardize us on purpose. By the time the bell rings I have a headache that weighs a thousand and nine pounds. My skin shivers with nerves as I walk to his locker.

He's swapping out books, Lani leaning against the wall next to him. God, why is she everywhere now? I shift on my heels, readying to turn, when I hear Lani squeal my name in a pitch that could deafen a dog. Alec sees me and our eyes catch, but not long enough for me to read his, know what he's thinking.

“We were just talking about hockey parties,” Lani announces with her usual cheerleader perk.

“Yeah?”

“I'm sort of in charge of getting hotels for the after, after-parties. You know, for the hockey team and cheerleaders.”

“I'm aware of the tradition,” I say. Enigmatic Alec stands across from me, giving nothing away.

“So fun, right?” She flirts her curtain of blond hair, gives me a wink.

Alec slams his locker. “Just let me know what the other guys are doing and count me in.”

As he turns to walk away, my words stretch to reach him. “Will I see you later?”

He twists to me. “Do you want to see me later?”

“Am I missing something? Are you two . . .”—Lani needles her finger between us—“hooking up?”

Alec stares at me, stares through me. “Zephyr means way more than a hookup.”

Is that forgiveness?

“Bummer.” Lani's fake pout morphs into a fake smile. “I mean, good for you, Zephyr, but I'll have to tell the squad that Alec Lord is off the market.”

I cringe at her mouth forming his full name, how it feels like an invasion. “The whole squad, huh?”

“Squad-
zz
. Soccer. Football
and
hockey.” She reaches for Alec's forearm, gives it a squeeze that makes my insides burn. “Your Alec has a serious fan club.” She makes pouty lips and treats us to a finger-fluttering wave before she bounces off down the hall. Literally, bounces. I'm relieved when Alec's eyes don't follow her.

“Why do I have a sudden need to take a shower?”

Alec's face fills with intrigue. “Alone?” He wraps his hand around my waist as the hall empties.

I'll be late for English but I don't care.

“It's good to see you, Zephyr.”

“You too.” I don't have the words to tell him how much. “Am I forgiven?”

He pulls me closer. “I'm not big on grudges. Besides, I'm madder at myself for being an insecure ass.”

“You heard Lani. You could have any girl at this school.”

“I don't want any girl.” He cups my chin. His eyes lock on mine, clutching my heart. “Don't you get it? You're more than I deserve.” My knees weren't built to withstand the kiss he gives me.

I pull away gently, press my forehead to his. “Just to be clear . . . hanging out with battalions of cheerleaders isn't tempting?”

“Not even slightly.” He squeezes my earlobe with a delicate pinch. Even that small gesture makes my skin blaze. “Why? Are you jealous, Zephyr actually?”

“Not at all.” A lie.

“Good. There's no need. I don't want you to have any insecurities. I've got enough for both of us.” He trails kisses along the hard line of my clenched jaw.

I breathe him in.

“Speaking of which . . .”

“Yes?” I tease him with a lifted brow.

“Yesterday kind of made me realize that I'm not totally comfortable with you hanging out with Slice.”

“Gregg?” How are we talking about Gregg?

“The one and only. In particular, the Gregg who kissed you and probably still wants to.”

Alec's grip tightens, pulling me against his pelvis. The rush is raw and immediate. The fog of his touch is almost too much to see through, but a small voice manages to scramble up and into air. “I can't just suddenly stop being friends with him.”

“I'd never ask you to do that. Just . . . hang back a little.”

“But why?”

He locks our hips. “Because I'm not sure I can take it—worrying about him kissing you again.”

“That's ridiculous. He'd never. Besides, he's with Lani now.”

Alec presses his cheek to mine and whispers. “Please don't call my insecurities ridiculous.”

I pull back. “I didn't mean—”

“I know. Look, I get it. I know my fears are stupid. But it doesn't help them go away.” Alec kisses me just under my ear, the skin so tender in that spot that my spine shivers. “Can you do this? For. Me.”

My legs weaken.

“So you can hang with him but I can't? How is that fair?”

“It's totally different. Slice doesn't want to make out with me.” He smiles, bites at my lip. “Or at least he hasn't tried yet.”

“Yet, huh?”

“Look, I'm not proud of it, but it wrecks me, thinking of his hands on you, or him thinking about having his hands on you. I wish I were a stronger or better person, but I'm not.”

I know exactly what it feels like to want to be better, more. For him. A familiar word bubbles up inside of me: yes. “Okay.”

“That's my girl.” He moves his mouth against mine so gently his skin feels like faded cotton, warm and inviting. I fall into his kiss, my tongue in a liquid smooth search for his rhythm. For him. For more.

The dull metal thud of a locker slams somewhere in the adjacent hall, making me break away. A teacher clears his throat behind us and moves us along.

Only a month ago I would have been mortified by a teacher seeing me so close with a boy. Now I want the whole world to see.

•  •  •

Mom's crisscrossing bittersweet vines into a thick wreath when I arrive home from watching Alec's game. Neither of us says hello. I go to the fridge where Mom's pinned Anna Slicer's wedding invitation next to the paper turkey I made in first grade. Great. I've got a little over a month to figure out how I'm going to duck out of that Gregg-filled soiree.