Don't Fall (2 page)

I tried to get to the library before her, but when I came in, she was already there. She sat at the table by the window, the one I was at when she took my picture. I slipped behind a bookshelf and spied for a minute, like she’d done to me. Okay, maybe she hadn’t been spying on me, but either way, I used it as an excuse to justify watching her.

I studied her profile. The curve of her nose, the pout of her lips. Braids wrapped around her head like a crown, a few loose strands floating against her cheek. She read with her elbows propped up on the desk holding a hardcover book with both hands. I stepped around the bookcase, trying to look casual.

“What are you reading?”

She jumped. I guess I hadn’t needed to worry about looking casual. She smiled in slow motion, her pink lips curling up to reveal slightly crooked white teeth. I had to rip my eyes away from her mouth.

“I was going to ask you that,” she said.

“What?” I must have looked totally baffled because a laugh slipped out of her curled up mouth.

“I meant on Tuesday. In the photograph,” she stood, lifting a picture off the table and handing it to me. “You look so absorbed. Was it a good book?”

“Yeah. I was reading
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
.”

She tipped her head to one side and made a noise that sounded like “mmm,” drawing my eyes to her lips. “I love that play. People seem to either love Shakespeare or hate him.” She grinned. “I love him.”

“I do, too. I’m planning to major in English literature next year.”

“Really? I would love to do that. Or photography.” She scrunched up her nose and added, “Need to finish high school first, though. One year left.” She smiled, then looked back and forth between me and the picture in my hand. “So, what do you think of the portrait?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. She wrapped one arm around her waist, and her other hand toyed with the collar of her shirt.

It was obvious she knew what she was doing as a photographer. The picture was pretty cool. It looked professional, not like just some snapshot. It suddenly hit me I had no idea how to compliment her work without sounding like an arrogant tool
. It looks great! Of course it does I’m sooo good looking.
I scrutinized the picture, nodding like an idiot until I remembered what she’d said about the light being what drew her to take it in the first place. I figured that was safe, even if I had no idea what exactly that meant.

“I like it. The lighting is very cool.”

A huge smile spread across her face, and I knew right then I’d do damn near anything to get her to smile at me like that again. “How long have you been doing this? It looks so professional.”

“A few years.” She shrugged, but her face was full of pride.

“I’d love to see more of what you’ve done.” The picture was cool, but the truth was I just wanted to see more of her
.

Her pale cheeks turned pink, a good look for her, and she looked down at a folder on the desk. “I do have some more with me, actually.”

“Great, come show them to me.” I walked over to the nearby couch hoping she’d come sit next to me. I wanted to get her talking, to get to know her, and I didn’t think that would happen standing in a corner of the library. But maybe, if she’d come sit next to me…

And she did, at the opposite end of the couch. She handed me the folder full of pictures, some black and white, some color. The more questions I asked her about them, the closer she slid to me, pointing at different things in each shot, explaining where they were taken, and what drew her to them.

A bunch of the pictures were of the same place, an open yard lined with trees and filled with gardens, an old swing set in one corner. Each shot was a bit different. A slightly different angle, or a different season.

“Where is this?”

“That’s my backyard.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Well, when I can’t get out, it’s one scene that’s always available. And it’s a fun challenge, to try and make each shot unique.”

“You’ve done a great job.” I said, and meant it. Some were better than others of course, but they were all different, showing the yard in a new way. A bunch of them were taken from above.

“Where were these taken?” I asked. She leaned closer and looked down at the pictures. She smelled like strawberries and flowers, and I wanted to lean into her neck and breathe her in. Her knee bumped against mine, and my palms started to sweat. I hoped her pictures wouldn’t slip out of my hands.

“Those I took from my bedroom window.”

I imagined her sitting at an open window, leaning out into the sunshine, camera in hand and the breeze blowing back her hair. So much more daring than she seemed there in the library. I wanted to get to know that side of her.

Anya

Talking with Zander came easily. His interest in my pictures seemed genuine, and I loved answering his questions, seeing the expression on his face as he looked through them. I’d never shown my photography to anyone other than my mother. She always found something to compliment about them, but she kind of had to. She was my mom.

When he asked to see me again I didn’t hesitate at all. I grinned and told him of course. It wasn’t until I left the library that my nerves started to climb up my arms and tighten around my throat.

I couldn’t tell Mom; she’d never let me see him. Men made her nervous. Well, people in general made her nervous, but men in particular. And not just in regards to me. She hadn’t dated at all in the past fourteen years, or at least, not that I knew about.

I decided not to mention it. Not a lie really, just a lack of sharing. Only I knew that wasn’t really true. A lie of omission, that’s what she’d call it. But what could I do? If I told her, she wouldn’t want me to see him. And that was simply not an option.

I was already falling for Zander. It was my first real crush, not counting celebrities. He was mesmerizing. Perhaps not classically handsome. No Superman-perfect features, but stunning nonetheless. He had an extremely expressive face. His dark eyes always seemed to be filled with thought. And that mouth. It was hard to not stare at his mouth. His lips curled, pursed, or frowned as he looked through the pictures. I wanted to memorize each turn of expression and learn what they meant.

We agreed to meet at the library again, and I was thankful he didn’t seem to think it an odd place to meet. It was the only place I had permission to go, and if we met somewhere else, I really would have to outright lie. I’d never lied to my mom before, not about anything big anyway. I’d never really had reason to.

Of course, a meeting at the library was hardly a date. Mrs. Marsh, the librarian, was my mom’s best friend (slash only friend). If she saw us together, she’d be sure to say something. My mom knew Mrs. Marsh would keep an eye on me; it was the reason the library was an approved location.

Fortunately, her daughter, Shannon, worked Tuesdays and Thursdays, which is why I’d chosen those days to go to the library. Shannon was the closest thing I had to a real friend, and it was nice to have a few hours a week when I didn’t feel like I was under surveillance. Shannon certainly wouldn’t rat me out for having a non-date with Zander.

Of course, what I really wanted was for him to ask me on a
real date. I went over and over it in my head. Different scenes, different conversations, but always with the same outcome. He’d lean forward, rest his hand on my cheek, and ask me to go to dinner. Maybe out dancing, too.

In my mind he’d take me somewhere romantic, with little twinkling lights and candles. We’d eat and laugh and he’d tell me I was the most beautiful girl he’d ever met.

Usually right about then my mom would get home and I’d snap back to reality, hide his picture, and tell her all about my day, carefully leaving out any details about the dark-eyed boy who was always right there, in the front of my mind, on the tip of my tongue.

The four days leading up to Tuesday were agony. I couldn’t wait to see him again. I tried on countless outfits trying to find the perfect one. I had imaginary conversations with him in room, occasionally acting them out. But when library day finally rolled around again, my stomach twisted into knots, and I didn’t think I could do it.

I braided and unbraided my hair, telling myself I wanted it to be perfect when in fact I was stalling, debating on whether I should go at all. Daydreaming had been perfect. In my fantasy life, it all worked out the way I wanted it to. But in real life, there were only two ways this could go.

One, he wouldn’t like me. He would realize I was boring, or not that cute, or any number of things that could cause him to decide I just wasn’t good enough for him. And I would be crushed.

Two, he would like me. Somehow he would see something in me and want to be with me. And I would have to say no.

On the one hand, what was the point of hoping for something with Zander that I knew I couldn’t have? It wasn’t fair to either of us. It was, in fact, a ridiculous thing to even consider.

On the other hand, how could I possibly not go, knowing he’d be there waiting for me? Perhaps I could see him just one more time. It would be rude to just not show up.

There was one other thing needling me. I tried to ignore it, but fear circled in my stomach. Whether I was afraid things wouldn’t work out with Zander, or afraid they would, I couldn’t quite say.

Chapter Three

Zander

“I can’t,” I told Blake, turning down yet another invitation to hang out. “I have stuff to do today.”

“Like what? School’s out. You aren’t working. What have you been up to?”

If I fessed up about seeing Anya, I’d be given copious amounts of crap for not asking her out yet. Blake loved giving me crap about my lack of finesse with the ladies, and I didn’t want to hear it. Besides, I’d already decided today was the day.

“I’m job hunting,” I lied. It was the thing I should have been doing. I needed to find a job, preferably near the college, before I started classes in the fall. But it was only June. I had plenty of time. And this was my last free summer, probably for the rest of my life. “We can hang tonight, okay?”

“Fine,” Blake grumbled. “I’m bringing Call of Duty, and I’m totally going to kick your ass.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said, laughing. Blake was my cousin, my first best friend, and my future roommate. Video games had always been our shared passion, even back when it was Mario Kart.

I hung up, checked my hair in the bathroom mirror, mentally smacked myself for becoming one of those guys who checks his hair, and headed to the library.

Anya was sitting on the couch texting when I walked in. “Hi,” I said, and she jumped a little.

“Hi.” She shoved her cell into her bag. For half a second, I wondered who she’d been texting, but I shook it off. I was just psyching myself out. I sat next to her, gathering my courage. If I didn’t ask her right away, I’d probably chicken out.

“Hey, so.” I wiped my hand down the front of my face. “I was wondering if you’d want to go out sometime. Like to a movie, or dinner. With me.”

Her face didn’t move. Like, she didn’t even blink. She just stared at me, and I could actually feel myself shrinking, shriveling up into a knot of stupidity right there on the couch.

She’s probably been texting her boyfriend.

“We hardly know each other.” Her voice was soft and she turned away from me, looking down at her hands. She wasn’t wrong, but isn’t that the point of dating? Getting to know people?

“Oh, right,” I said, wondering if there was more to it than that. “You’re probably already seeing someone.” I threw it out there, not sure what I wanted to hear. I mean, of course I hoped she wasn’t seeing anyone. But on the other hand, at least that’s a reason for her to say no. Better than if she just found me completely unappealing.

“No. No, I’m not seeing anyone.” She tapped her foot on the floor, the vibration running up her leg and shaking the couch cushions. “Could we keep meeting here? Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Was it? I didn’t know if this was her version of “can we still be friends,” or if she really meant she wanted to get to know each other better before going on a real date. If it was the former, I wasn’t all that interested. It’s hard to be “just friends” with someone you want to make out with.

“Great.” She smiled, and I couldn’t help smiling back. But my stomach still felt off. I wasn’t up for sitting around, talking books, and doing nothing.

“I should probably get going. I have all this stuff I need to get done, job applications and stuff.” I stood up, and her face fell. “You’ll be here Thursday, though, right? Or next Tuesday?”

“Every Tuesday and Thursday. Like clockwork.”

“Why?” The word was out before I realized how rude it sounded. Her face flushed, and she turned toward the window. When she looked back at me, any sign of embarrassment was gone.

“It’s my favorite place.”

She was odd, there was no denying that, but it made her interesting. Like a puzzle I still had to figure out. Of course first I needed her to give me all the pieces.

“I’ll see you later,” I said, and I meant it. Being shot down sucked, but I wasn’t quite ready to give up.

Anya

Sometimes I hate my life. Like when cute boys ask me out and I have to say no because my mom would freak out at the very thought of me on a date.

Sure, it was the first time such a thing had ever happened, but it definitely stunk.

I had played that moment, Zander asking me out, in my head so many times. Although in my daydreams, he was usually gazing into my eyes, not his lap. And in my daydreams, I was able to give a different answer.

I tried to be angry with Mom, after all, if it wasn’t for her, I could have said yes. But would I have? I wasn’t sure. When he actually asked me, and I thought about meeting him somewhere at night, in the dark, full of people I didn’t know, my throat clenched shut.

It was far nicer to daydream. Daydreams are safe.