This Is Falling Read online

  Rowe

  The second he’s gone, the tears come streaming down my face. I hate these pictures. I hate them, but I love them. My mom told me not to bring them. “These things were best left at home,” she said. But I wanted them with me. I wanted Josh and Betsy with me, and not just in my head.

  I hate you.

  That’s all I write to Josh; I slam my laptop closed again and fall to my bed, curling up into a ball with my covers. When I hear Cass come in the door, I hold my breath, stopping my cries, until she believes I’m sleeping; she gets her keys and leaves me alone.

  I slept the entire Saturday away. Of course, I only slept in fifteen or twenty minute fits. I wasn’t really tired, but my emotions were exhausted. Paige was out all weekend, which was a blessing. But when she rolled into our room on Sunday afternoon, she made up for all of the peace and quiet I enjoyed in her absence.

  “I’m thinking of rushing Delta or Sigma. I like them both. Cass, what do you think?” I can tell Cass isn’t listening, and I know Paige is only going to ask again, but louder, so I decide to play defense.

  “I think you should pick Sigma,” I say, not really having a clue what Sigma or Delta or any of the other goddamned annoying letters she’s been spewing for the last thirty minutes mean. Frankly, I want to set up appointments with every single one of McConnell’s sororities to warn them not to accept her, to let them know what a step down they would be taking in terms of their own personal standards. But I don’t. I don’t because I also would give anything for Paige to move out and leave Cass and me here alone.

  “I think I’ll pick Delta,” she says, just to spite me. Whatever.

  There’s a light knock on the door, but I’m the only one who hears it. It’s Nate. I know it’s Nate. I actually recognize his knock, which is dangerous and scary, and makes my heart feel panicky things that I don’t like. He knocks again, this time a little louder, and Cass stands up from her bed and walks over to let him in. Ty is with him, and I’m relieved.

  “Hey, ladies. Your heroes have arrived,” Ty says, tugging on the loops of Cass’s jeans and pulling her onto his lap. She giggles when he does, and just watching them makes me smile. Everything is so…easy. I look at Nate, and he’s smiling just like I am when looking at his brother and Cass, and I wonder if he’s feeling the same longing and reservations.

  “Took you long enough. I’m starving!” Cass says, grabbing her purse and looping it across her body. “We’re going to grab dinner at the cafeteria. You coming, Rowe?”

  “Oh, no. I’m fine. I’ll just eat something here.” My excuse floods from my mouth quickly, maybe too quickly.

  “You don’t have anything. Come on, just come,” she says, reaching for my hand and pulling me to a stand.

  “I’ll go,” Paige says, pulling the extra layer of shirt off of her arms to make sure the one-size-too-small tank top is squeezing her boobs enough to make part of them spill out. I don’t want to go. I don’t do public places well, especially cafeterias that are crowded with people. But Paige is already positioning herself close to Nate, and she’s making excuses to touch him, pointing to something on his shirt and lifting the back of his shirt to “look at the tag on his jeans to see what kind they are.”

  “Okay, I’ll go.” I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t know how I’m going to survive this. But thank you, jealousy, for being a force to be reckoned with, perhaps the only emotion strong enough to conquer fear.

  We’re walking out the door, and my heart is pounding so fast I honestly think I might have a heart attack. I try to keep my arms out to my sides because my armpits are sweating profusely. I’ve never been so nervous in my entire life.

  “Whose phone is ringing? Cass is that you?” Paige says, tugging at her sister’s purse. She’s on the other side of Nate, and has to reach across him to reach Cass, which is the only reason she is doing that, and I know it. I know it because it’s my phone that’s ringing, and every single one of us knows it. It’s obvious, and Paige is pathetic.

  “It’s mine. You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up,” I say, pulling my phone out and seeing my mom’s contact info.

  “I’ll wait. We’ll catch up,” Nate says, leaning against the wall and nodding to me to take my time. He’s waiting. For me. And I’m so glad, but also mortified that he’s going to hear me talk to my mom. And she’s going to ask questions. Personal ones—ones that I don’t want to answer in front of him.

  “Hi, Mom,” I say, trying to sound just the right mix of positive and neutral.

  “Well, you sound good,” she says, already analyzing. My mom is an economist. But somewhere along the way she decided she’s also Dr. Phil.

  “Yeah, just going to get some dinner. What’s up?” I say, trying to urge her to be fast, but also not encourage too many questions.

  “You’re going out?” Shit.

  “Yeah, I’ve made some friends. My roommate is really nice. We’re going to eat.” I spare a quick glance at Nate, and he’s grinning at me. I’m so embarrassed that he’s listening, because I know my mom is about to go on and on about how important friends are, and how proud she is of me for trying hard. And there she goes.

  “Honey, you’re doing so well. This is only going to get easier, too. Friends are an important part of the healing process…”

  I tune the next part out, because I’ve heard this speech before. Friends equal healing, yeah…got it. Ross said this to me once in a joint session with my mom, and she clung to it. I don’t think she even knows what those words mean anymore, she just repeats them to me over and over—like it’s a cheer—until I reach the invisible finish line.

  “Look, Mom. I’m sorry, but they’re waiting on me. I don’t want to make them wait,” I say, staring right at Nate, who’s the only one really waiting.

  “Okay, well, call me tomorrow. Let me know how classes go,” she says, not hanging up right away.

  “Right. Okay, love you,” I say, suddenly really dreading the idea of going to the cafeteria full of people. But there is some truth to what my mom says—friends are part of healing.

  “Ready?” Nate says, kicking off from the wall and holding his arm out for me. I don’t take it—not because I don’t want to, because god, do I want to—but because I don’t like what it means if I do. I used to take Josh’s arm. He used to sprint from his class to mine, waiting for me outside my door just to walk me to my next class. It was our thing, and I think that means it can’t be a thing I do with anyone else.

  I can tell I’ve made him uncomfortable by the way he’s standing in the elevator, like he’s afraid of offending me. He’s all the way in the opposite corner—giving me space since I refused to touch his arm. I like Nate. And I want to be his friend because I like being close to him. And that has to be enough.

  We stop on the second floor, and two girls get in. They notice us standing at opposite corners. “He farted,” I say, partly wanting to see how uncomfortable it makes these two girls—because, like, who the hell takes the elevator for one floor? And, I want to bring back Nate’s smile, which I seem to have done. Teeth. Dimples.

  “Ooooooh, yeah. Sorry ladies. I think I may have sharted,” he says, and I cover my mouth with an actual snort-laugh while my cheeks burn with the brightest shade of pink. The two girls just stare ahead, eyes wide, leaning their arms into one another, waiting to discuss this elevator ride. When the door opens, I slap Nate on the arm, pushing him off balance a little.

  “I cannot believe you said that!”

  “Hey, you left me little choice. You should know—I don’t lose the embarrassment game. If you think you want a piece of this, consider this fair warning. You’re going to lose, every time.” He’s so sure of himself that it stirs another feeling in my belly. I used to be competitive—I was even that way with Josh, always having to one up his test scores, and run my mile just a little faster in PE.

  “Oh yeah? You think I’m scared off by that?” The look in his eye and the way he smiles—biting his tongue with
the back of his teeth while he listens to me—is enough to pull me all the way in. “I just felt bad for you. Those girls think you’re a sharter. You’re never getting in their pants now.”

  “I don’t want in their pants,” he says, the same look on his face, and I feel like there is a double meaning to his words. My lungs feel tight with hope I shouldn’t have.

  “It’s on,” I say, turning to look back in front of me, my eyes focused on the two doors leading into the cafeteria. This step is so amazingly huge—I wish someone in my inner circle were here to witness it. I know that distracting myself with Nate is the only reason I’m now pushing the doors open and stepping inside the noisy room full of tables and chairs and strangers. My lungs grow even smaller and tighter when I do, but my feet keep moving.

  Yes, friends help you heal. But Nate is stronger than that. And he’s bringing back pieces of me that I thought were dead for good.

  “Hey, guys. Sorry we’re late. Rowe got a phone call that her ointment was ready. We had to go pick it up. That’s the one that helps with the…burning…right?” Nate fake-whispers, holding my gaze to see how I handle his challenge. I fight against myself, knowing how badly my eyes want to show shock, and my cheeks want to flair up with embarrassment. I used to be good at this. And I think I can do this again. I remember friends.

  “Yeah, it’s way better now. That stuff works really fast,” I say, and his lips tick up at the corners into a tiny smile. “Too bad about your pants, though.”

  I leave everyone hanging, because I know if I wait long enough, someone will take my bait. It won’t be Nate. He’s too good, and he knows exactly what I’m doing. He even sees me grab the bottle of water in line and slowly pull off the cap. I’m pretty sure I can count on Paige, though, and when she’s the one to ask, a little tiny part of my world feels right again for the first time in months.

  “What happened to your pants?” Paige asks. Check.

  “Oh, I thought everyone knew. Nate’s incontinent. He pissed himself on the way over here,” I say, tipping the water bottle enough to spill down the back of his jeans, but behind him, so no one really sees while we’re standing in line. He doesn’t flinch, but instead, stands there perfectly still while I soak his pants. Checkmate.

  “Yep, totally pissed myself. Just gonna have to sit in my urine all day I guess. Who’s hungry?” he says, flipping up an apple and lodging it in his teeth while he grabs a tray and moves down the line in his dripping wet pants. Cass and Paige stare at him, completely lost over what just happened, and Ty laughs and shakes his head, grabbing a tray to follow his brother.

  Nate is the challenger I always wanted, and I like him more than I thought I did. I like him more than I should. And a little part of me is okay with that.

  Chapter 9

  Nate

  “Cass, pleeeeeeaase just trust me. Rowe will be totally okay with this. Just let me do it.” I’ve been pleading with Rowe’s roommate for the last twenty minutes. I loved seeing that side of Rowe, the side that jokes and smiles, and doesn’t take things seriously. I went to bed thinking about it. I woke up thinking about it. I thought about it through my two morning classes. And now I’m here, standing in her room with her dresser drawer in my hand.

  “Uuuuuugh! Fine! But don’t get me involved in this stupid war you have going with her. If she asks, I had nothing to do with this, okay?” Cass grabs her backpack and slings it over her shoulders to go to class. I salute her and cross my heart; she sighs again before she turns around.

  “You love me, and you know it,” I shout over my shoulder as she’s about to leave.

  “She better not!” I hear Ty’s voice a second later.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I say to him as I start flipping over every single one of Rowe’s drawers. It’s a tricky prank, because I have to hold her clothes inside with one arm while I slide them in. I spend a little longer than I should on her underwear and bras, which Ty points out immediately.

  “This is a new level of creepy, bro. Even for you,” he says, stopping right next to me, but reaching his arms over to help me hold her clothing in.

  “Just a little prank,” I smile.

  “Oh, that’s a good one. I’m in. This one Cass’s?” he asks, pointing to the dresser next to Rowe’s. I just shrug because honestly the only things I’ve ever noticed in this room all belong to Rowe.

  Ty slides the top-drawer open and pulls out a bra, holding it in front of him and squeezing the cups. “Yeah, this is hers. I recognize this lovely little thing,” he says, and I roll my eyes at him. “What? Just because you can’t close a deal like I can, don’t give me shit.”

  For some reason, what he says makes me start to think about how I feel about Rowe. And yeah, I want to kiss her. And yeah, I want to remind myself what those cotton panties look like again. And there are probably a million other things that involve her that I would never say no to. But I’m not in a hurry. And for some reason, I feel like Rowe is holding back with me, sort of glad I’m not pushing.

  “Hey, you really like Cass, huh?” I say, flipping over her bottom drawer and pressing my arms up to hold in the heavy jeans.

  Ty just sighs, never answering, which is enough for me. He really likes her, and that’s kind of a first for him. I just hope he doesn’t do something stupid to make it impossible for me to come to this room again.

  I’m about to push the last drawer in all the way when I feel a pile of something slide out onto my foot. I push the drawer in just enough so I can let go and feel my hands along the floor. At first I think they’re playing cards, but then I pull them out to look at them and realize they’re photos—photos of Rowe…with the boyfriend. I slide the drawer in the rest of the way and sit back on her bed to flip through them.

  The first one is of her and him in what looks like her parents’ driveway, and they’re dressed in formal wear, like they’re going to some dance. Then there are a couple of pictures of them at a swimming pool. He’s lifting her, and threatening to jump into the water. She’s laughing in the photo, and it strikes me that I’ve never seen her laugh like this.

  “Hey, dude? Do you know if Rowe...does she…” I’m almost afraid to ask, so I just flip the last picture over and hand it to him. It’s a picture of the same guy, kissing her on the cheek, and she’s literally squealing with happiness. “Does she have a boyfriend?”

  Ty takes the photo in, looking at it for a long time before finally shrugging and handing it back to me. “No idea. You should probably ask.”

  It’s the last thing on the planet I want to ask. Mostly because it’s the last answer on the planet I want to hear…unless the answer is no.

  I help Ty with the last couple drawers, and we lock their door from the inside to bring it back to a close. When we pass the elevator, I hear Paige laughing while she talks on her phone, and she holds a finger up to try to get our attention, but we both keep moving, pretending not to see it. Ty’s eyes turn sideways to catch mine, and we both laugh quietly.

  “Dude, I can’t stand that chick! How is it that I’m crazy about her sister?” Ty says, and I know he just answered my question from earlier, but he doesn’t want me to make a big deal out of it. So I don’t. And instead, I focus on the first part.

  “She has great tits!” I say, waiting for him to respond.

  “Ah, that’s a good point. Way to focus on the positive. She does indeed have great tits,” Ty says, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on to Sports Center.

  Rowe

  I call my mom on my walk back from class. I don’t like talking to her in front of other people, so I try to time our conversations for my walks. That, and the distraction helps me focus on something other than the wide-open spaces, and cars, and people milling around.

  After filling her in on my first day’s schedule, and running through my list of professors to see if there’s anyone she knows, which she knows two of them, I move on to the regular litany of questions. Am I sleeping? How are my roommates? Am I really making friends? Have I
called Ross?

  I called Ross right before I called my mom, but I don’t tell her that. I slipped up once, telling her I called Ross first for something and her feelings were hurt. I can’t handle guilt trips—I have enough. So I just lie instead, and tell her I’m calling Ross next. I feel like if I ever have to stand before some supreme being who gets to decide if I get into heaven and he brings up this lie—it was warranted. I’d like to think the ultimate judge in this case would understand.

  I never bring up Josh. My mom found my messages to him once, so I told her they were old messages and that I don’t write any more. I just changed my password though. Okay, so two lies. This one might not be as easy to explain away.

  The hallway is eerily empty when I exit the elevator, which always makes me nervous. It’s the middle of the afternoon, so I guess most students are in their classes by now. I’ve learned there are only a few of us who prefer morning classes. I happen to have a pretty full schedule—what with trying out a little bit of everything—so my day starts at seven and goes until three thirty.

  After jiggling the door handle, I start to feel silly. The door is locked, and I am safe. There’s a constant string of reassurances running through my head at all times.

  I make my way into my room and drop my book bag to the floor. One drawback to having a back-to-back kind of schedule is the pressure it puts on my spine. One philosophy class and one art history class alone add up to fifteen pounds in books. But those two were definitely my favorites, and I think Nate might have pushed me in the right direction with art. Today was all about looking at pictures of famous paintings, and everything I saw inspired me.

  When my socks and underwear spill onto my feet, I immediately know that Nate was here. Son of a bitch! I pull the next drawer out and the same thing happens. Again and again, until all of my belongings are in a pile at my feet and my drawer bottoms are staring me in the face.