This Is Falling (17 page)

“Why Rowe?” He just leaves his question in
the air. Two words that could mean anything, and I know they mean
everything.

“Why what?” I sound combative and snarky, and
I don’t mean to, but I don’t know how to cross this line with him,
and I don’t even know if my heart is mine to give. But I know that
I don’t like hearing about him and Sadie, and I know I’m relieved
he’s not in love with her anymore.

“Why do you care about how I feel about
Sadie?” His eyes intensify on me. “I mean, if I’m not the kind of
guy you introduce to your parents, why does it matter who I hook up
with? What are we doing here, Rowe? What is
this
?”

“I don’t know!” I stand and bring my purse to
my body, wanting desperately to leave, to run back to my own room
and hide. But there’s a part of me that also wants Nate’s mouth on
mine, and that part is hungry and forceful and begging to be heard.
And then I close my eyes, and I see Josh’s face, and everything
feels worse.

When I open my eyes again, Nate is standing
in front of me, his arms to his side and his fingers threatening to
connect with mine, but just coming close enough for me to feel his
heat. His chest is inches away, and slowly he reaches up to put his
thumb under my chin. I close my eyes tightly, and my fingers cling
to my purse, hoping my heart can survive whatever is about to
happen.

“I don’t play games, Rowe. I’m just…I just
don’t,” he says against my ear. “I will wait, but I won’t wait
forever.”

I hear his door open, and when I open my eyes
again, I’m standing in his room alone, my breathing almost that of
a heart attack victim. My eyes want to cry, and so does my heart,
but all I can seem to do is stand there under the flickering light
of Nate’s TV while I wait for my roommate to unlock our door
again.

Chapter
16

Rowe

He had disappeared. I know he still went to
class and to practice, because I caught glimpses of him, but he was
never there for long. My flight leaves tomorrow, and I haven’t
talked to Nate since those few minutes alone in his room.

It’s almost as if the universe was on Nate’s
side. Today’s philosophy lecture was all about self-determination,
and every example my professor gave was as if he was plucking it
from the pages of my own life. I love Josh with all of my heart,
but I also blame him for every twist my path has taken. I’m stuck
between wanting to let go and wanting to honor everything he was to
my life, wanting to prove that I was
his
until the very
end.

Last night, I purchased a few items from the
corner grocery store, tired of being the third wheel to Cass and Ty
in the cafeteria. I packed a small lunch today to eat between my
two classes. I knew it would save me time and let me get some
reading in before my art-history class, but I also knew that if I
could manage—if I could find the courage to sit under a tree on the
main campus lawn—then Nate would have to see me. He walks this path
every day on his way to the math building. I’ve seen him from afar,
and I hope putting myself in his way makes him notice me again.

My sandwich is dry because I made it in such
a hurry, and I have to chase it with most of my soda just to get it
down. I went a little overboard on the bag of pretzels, packing
enough for a Boy Scout troop, mostly because I wanted to be sure I
was still eating something when Nate walked by. It has to seem
authentic, and I need to be distracted, or else I will just look
desperate.

I sense his legs crossing the street without
even turning my face up, and I sneak a look from my periphery just
to be sure he’s walking this way. For a moment, I think he’s not
going to stop, and my gut feels heavy. But at the last second, I
hear his feet pause along the small gravel path that winds through
the trees and grass, and my heart skips a beat.

“Picnic for one?” He’s standing next to me
now, and I know when I look up at him his face will give everything
away.

“Just trying to conquer my demons,” I say,
honestly. Nate kneels down and picks up the book lying open in
front of me, thumbing through a few pages. I allow myself to glance
up at him, and when I do, he catches me and holds my gaze. His lips
are a faint smirk, almost like he can read my mind, and he knows
every thought I’ve had of him since he left me standing in his
room.

He folds my book closed but holds my page
with his finger. “When do you leave for Arizona?” He’s still
studying me, and I can tell that right now—right this minute—he’s
nervous too.

“Tomorrow, around three. I’m taking a taxi to
the airport,” I say, my voice wavering at the thought of everything
I have to survive tomorrow. “I…I don’t really like flying.”

“What, flying? Nah, that’s easy,” he says,
handing me my book but careful not to touch his hand to mine. The
lack of contact hurts. “Want my secret?”

I nod
yes,
but the truth is I want all
of him, the parts I’m afraid to ask for, and the parts I’m afraid
will break me.

“Put Neil Diamond on your iPod. It works with
almost every song, but ‘Sweet Caroline’ is the best, because you
can’t help but want to sing along with it,” he says, standing and
pulling his backpack up along his shoulder. “Neil’s got your
back.”

He winks when he walks away, and I spend the
next fifteen minutes wondering if I’ve lost him before I even had
him to lose.

Nate

“This sucks,” I say, throwing the book I’ve
been reading for my English class across the room against the
wall.

“That’s why I picked business bro. Once you
get out of those under-grad classes, every book you read is about
money, and who doesn’t like to read about money?” Ty rubs his
fingers together for emphasis.

“No, the book’s fine. Actually, I wouldn’t
know. I’ve read the same sentence a hundred times because I can’t
get my goddamned mind to focus on shit. I sucked it up at batting
practice today, too.” It’s almost eleven, and I know Rowe hasn’t
hit the showers yet, because I keep checking.

“Girl’s messing with baseball now. I was
willing to let things slide when she was just messing with you, but
now she’s fuckin’ up my favorite sport,” Ty says in a serious tone.
I know he’s joking, but I also know he’s a little frustrated on my
behalf. I told Ty about Rowe’s past, and I know he’ll keep it to
himself. But my brother has a different perspective on life—he’s
all about seizing the moment and not living with regrets. When I
told him about Rowe, he tried to encourage me to give up my
pursuit, saying that if she’s been stuck for two years, then
nothing’s ever going to break her pattern. But I can’t give up yet.
Even if I wanted to, I don’t think my heart would let me.

“I’ll be back,” I say, grabbing my keys and
heading to the showers again. It’s been fifteen minutes since the
last time I checked.

“You’re kind of pathetic, just so you know!”
Ty yells after me.

“Thanks, I know,” I say back, shaking my head
at myself.

I can hear the humming from a few doors away,
and I know she’s in there. I don’t even know if she realizes she
does it, but when Rowe showers, she hums, sometimes actually
singing words. I think it’s a subconscious thing she does when
she’s nervous, but her voice is amazing. Tonight she’s singing that
Maroon 5 song “She Will Be Loved
.”
She doesn’t know all the
words, so when she gets to a part that she’s unsure of, she makes
up lyrics, and it’s cute as hell.

The water cuts off, and I know she’ll be
walking out in two minutes. She hurries every time, and I
understand why now. My heart is pounding so hard that I can
actually feel it in my temples. Damn, how does one girl make me so
unsure of everything? Two hours ago, I was determined, and an hour
ago, I still thought this was a good idea. I don’t know anything
anymore though. I take a deep breath and walk out of the men’s
locker room, moving a few yards away from the women’s exit, where I
lean against the wall. I’m sure I’m going to scare her, but I hope
she gets over it fast. And I hope she doesn’t punch me!

I’m actually bouncing on my legs, like a
boxer ready to enter the ring, when I see her shadow around the
corner.

“Don’t get scared,” I say, picking probably
the worst moment, the worst tone, and the worst phrase to utter
when someone runs into you in the dark. This is confirmed when she
flattens herself against the wall, dropping all of her things, just
like she did that first time we met. Her hair is wrapped in a towel
on top of her head, though it’s sliding off now that I just scared
the crap out of her. She’s wearing the same giant T-shirt and
shorts she was that first night, too. And my heartbeat is literally
doing a drumroll.

“Holy hell, I think I just swallowed my
tongue,” she says, her hands pressed to her chest. “For the record,
yelling ‘don’t get scared’ in a dark hallway to a girl with some
serious post-traumatic-stress issues is a sure fire way to make her
think she’s dying.”

“I’m sorry,” I say with a wince. I reach down
to grab her towel, which has now completely slid off her head. When
I stand back up to hand it to her, I’m struck by how absolutely
drop-dead gorgeous she is. There isn’t an ounce of makeup on her,
and her hair is sopping wet, twisted along the side of her neck and
dripping down the front of her white T-shirt. She’s not wearing a
bra, and I’m careful not to draw any attention to that fact,
because I don’t want her to shift her arms and cover any of that
up. I’m a good guy, but I’m not
that
good.

“Were you…waiting for me?” she asks, her eyes
sad and hopeful. This moment, the way she looks
right now
,
makes every frustrating second from the last four days
worthwhile.

“I was.” Her eyes widen, just the smallest
amount, but it’s enough. “So, you have your Neil ready?”

“I do. I took your advice, ‘Sweet
Caroline
.
’ I’m not so sure it’s going to work though. I
don’t really know the words,” she bites her lip, like she’s
actually embarrassed that she doesn’t know the lyrics to a Neil
Diamond song. Though, I really can’t believe she doesn’t know this
one.

“It’s easy. And you’ll know them after you
hear the chorus the first time. It’s one of those songs,” I say. I
loop my thumbs in my pockets because at this very moment, if I
don’t, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop myself from touching her.
Her shirt is now completely soaked on one side, and her nipple is
peaking through the material. It’s
all
I can focus on, that
and her lips, which I am fighting not to taste.

She can’t seem to hold my gaze long, and I
start to make a challenge out of it, dipping my knees to look at
her lowered head when she breaks our connection to concentrate on
her feet and the floor. This makes her giggle, and
God
do I
love that sound.

“There she is,” I say, when she takes a
normal breath finally and holds my stare long enough to shake her
head at my teasing. “You packed yet?”

I’m stalling. I want to stand here in this
darkened hallway and have conversations with her about absolutely
nothing important for as long as it takes for me to get enough
balls to make a statement. That, and I just love listening to her
voice. I love looking at her body. I love watching her come out of
her shell. And I want to make her whole.

“Is it weird to pack dirty laundry? I was
going to do it, but then that just seemed like a waste of time,”
she shrugs.

“No, moms love it when we bring home dirty
laundry,” I say.

“My dad does the laundry, you sexist pig.”
She’s feisty again, and I love the way she’s now standing with her
hand on her hip and her head tilted to one side like she just put
me in my place. I also love the way her posture stretches her
T-shirt across both of her breasts. I no longer need to imagine
what they look like because in the ever-so brief glances my eyes
make, I am committing every curve to memory. She bends down to pick
up her small bag of shampoo and conditioner, and somehow when she
stands, the fabric clings to her even more, and I’m no longer able
to hide my reaction.

I stare, and I stare long and hard at the
perfect roundness and the small pink tips that are poking through
the cotton, almost as if they’re trying to reach me. I swallow, and
start to lick my lips when I realize how obvious I’m being. I catch
my breath, and quickly move my eyes to hers. She doesn’t look
upset, but she does look embarrassed, and within a fraction of a
second, she looks down and notices her wet shirt and everything
it’s revealing. She pulls her towel up in a clump in front of her
and squeezes it to her chest, almost ashamed, and I feel like a
dick for making her feel so insecure.

“Don’t worry. I…I didn’t really see
anything,” I lie, gritting my back teeth together and forcing an
apologetic smile. Fuck, I’m making this worse, and she’s starting
to look upset.

“Oh my god, I’m pretty sure you did. Oh man…”
She’s starting to breathe heavier, like she might pass out. “I…I’m
so sorry. I didn’t realize my shirt was that wet. And you must
have…
uhg
!”

Now she’s hiding her face in her towel too,
and she holds up her other hand, the one clutching the bag, and
does her best to wave. “I’m going to go put in my strip-club
applications now. Nice talking to you. See you when I get back,”
she says, walking away quickly.

I stand there for a few seconds and try to
figure out my next move, but all I can focus on is how damned
embarrassed she was, and how unbelievably beautiful her body is.
“You really shouldn’t be embarrassed. I mean, I liked it…what I
saw? Or, what I
think
I saw…”

“Not helping!” she yells from the safety of
her door. She opens and shuts it quickly, and I slap my forehead
wondering when the hell I turned into a junior-high boy.