The Girl Who Fell (15 page)

I pull out a bag of grapes when Mom says, “Are you feeling better?”

“Much.”

“Okay enough to hear that I'm sorry for calling you selfish?” She nods toward the empty chair across from her and I sit.

“I'm sorry I stormed out.” Finn scoots across the floor, rests his head on my sneaker. I reach down and scratch between his ears. “Did you take him for a walk? He looks tired.”

“No. He's been sluggish all day.”

“Hmm.” I give Finn a tender pat along the length of his head and he lets out a low sigh.

“Zephyr.” Mom clears her throat. “It wasn't okay for your dad to show up at your game like he did and I told him so. You need to see him when the time is right for you. I support that.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“But with Thanksgiving coming up, I wanted you to know that if you want to hike, I'll go with you. Finn, too. Or”—she hesitates, pinches two vines steady between her fingers—“maybe you want to do something else?”

I roll a grape along the ridge of my palm. Every Thanksgiving morning since I was old enough to make the climb, Dad and I have hiked to the top of Mount Vernon. Mom always stayed behind, joking about how she was thankful for the quiet. She'd pack us Thanksgiving Stuffers, her special sandwiches made of stuffing, turkey, and cranberry—like eating leftovers before the meal. Climbing made my breath ragged and my mind would empty of everything as Dad and I ascended the narrow pine-needled path that led to the icy crunch of the mountain's summit.

And as much as I wish I could hike with my father like any other year . . . “I don't think I want to hike.”

“Maybe this Thanksgiving we'll keep it simple. Start making new traditions.” Mom's voice cracks and I hate how Dad's changed everything and I don't know how to put the pieces of our family back together. Worse, I don't know if all our pieces will even fit back together.

“New traditions sound about right.”

“Is that really what you want?”

I nod. “I think it's the only way it can be. I mean, we can't do stuff the way we've always done it and pretend like Dad didn't walk out on us.” I see Mom begin her side of the argument, but cut her off. “Even if he is back.”

“Okay.” She looks satisfied. For now. “And maybe we can check in with each other more. About this or anything. I don't want you to pull away before you leave for Boston.”

“I can do that.”

“Look, Zephyr, there isn't a parenting handbook on this so I'm kind of out of my element, but I do know that I want you to be happy. And strong. And I think you're at serious risk of regret if you don't at least try to see your dad at some point, listen to what he has to say.”

“I know.” I do. Of course I do. It still doesn't make that first step any easier.

Alec has been slammed with hockey practice and homework all week, but he's found time to call every night to wish me sweet dreams. Even sweeter is the way he's managed to leave me tiny gifts, despite his grueling schedule. A pyramid of Hershey's Kisses on the seat of my car, an origami bird left at my front step. I didn't tell him how I crushed it during my rush out the door that morning.

It's crazy how badly I'm dying to see him. And awful how much I wish I hadn't made plans for a movie night with Lizzie.

Now Lizzie lazes on my bed, waiting for me to pack clothes for a sleepover. She taps her finger against the maroon cover of the thick Boston College catalog. “I don't see the fascination with this place.”

I pull on a shirt and my sneaky brain reminds me how Alec watched me slip out of my bra when I was standing almost in this exact spot. And how I liked it. More than a little.

“Earth to Zee.”

I'm pulled back to the now. “What's up?”

“Boston College. It's so . . . boxy.”

“Boxy?” I snort.

“Yeah, the buildings are all square and institutional.” She shudders like she's physically offended. “It's wicked confining. I mean, how's college any different than Suckbury?”

I move to the side of the bed and wrench the brochure from her hands. “You are under no obligation to visit me in my boxy dorm room at my fine, boxy establishment of higher learning. Oh, and when I'm summering in Hyannis Port with the Kennedys you shouldn't feel obligated to visit me there, either.”

“Oh, I'm coming to the Kennedy Compound. That place is scandal central. I'd write an exposé that would bust my career wide open.”

“Rise to fame at the expense of others?”

“Name me a journalist who's done it any other way.” Lizzie snickers and goes to my bureau, paints one eyelid with a deep shade of purple I didn't know I had. “I assume you haven't heard yet.”

I shake my head. “You? Any news about the internship?”

“Nada.”

“So what's the plan if you don't get in?” Lizzie asks, dabbing more color onto the applicator. “What's your Plan B?”

I swallow. Hard. Dad always said the way to reach your goals was to have a Plan A and only a Plan A. Plan Bs are just a way to keep you from attaining Plan A. I've never had another plan other than studying at Boston College's Morrissey College of Arts & Sciences. Living in one of America's oldest cities. On my own. That's what all the studying and good grades have been for. I can't imagine my life taking an alternate course. A not-so-small part of me collapses into that raw vulnerability.

“I'll apply to a bunch of places, just in case.” My words fall flat and unconvincing.

I wriggle on my favorite jeans and watch Lizzie's reflection in the mirror, how suspicion draws over her features. Before she can call me out, though, my phone rings with Carly Rae Jepsen's “Call Me Maybe.” Lizzie plunks down onto my bed, picks up Baba and pulls at the nubby balls of his remaining fur.

Hey, I just met you and this is crazy, but here's my number so call me may—
I dig my phone out of my bag, see HOCKEY BOY pulse on my screen and press accept. Lizzie grins at her latest handiwork.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Zephyr actually. You miss me?”

“Who is this?” I bite my lip, smiling.

Alec laughs softly. “I need to see you tonight.”

I blush. My entire body tingles. I look at Lizzie and mouth,
It's Alec
.

“Yeah, got that.”

“You with someone?” he asks.

“No one special.” I smirk at Lizzie and she rolls her eyes.

“So, tonight?”

“I told you we're having a girls' night.”

“I need to see you. I'll die.”

“Dramatic much?”

Alec laughs. “Just for a few minutes. Please? I'm at that Waxman kid's house.”

I hear a whoosh of noise. “Tomorrow,” I whisper. “Promise.”

“Look, a bunch of people just stormed the room I'm in. It's kind of hard to hear. Come see me. Just for one kiss.”

What can that hurt? “Just one.”

“Can't wait.” I hear the smile in his voice. “Wear something sexy.”

“See you soon.” I flick off my phone and beg Lizzie with my eyes.

She huffs. “Fine. We can stop by and see him.”

My body zings with an electrical current. I never imagined I'd be this girl.

I shake off my jeans and trade them for a skirt and pair of knee-high boots.

On the way to the party I ask Lizzie, “How can you and Jason stand being away from each other?”

“It sucks sometimes. Most times. But what's the alternative? Give up my life and live his life? No thank you.” She turns onto Waxman's road and has to double-park because the street is already jammed. “Besides, it's always better when we see each other after a break. We have more to talk about.”

Lizzie puts the car in park and I want to ask her if there was ever a time when it killed her to be away from Jason. But I don't. Just in case she's never felt the way I do now.

“I'll wait here. I'm not really in the mood for crowds.”

My hand is already on the door handle when my phone rings. Kurt Cobain's sultry voice tells me,
Come as you are, as you were, as I want you to be
. I shoot Lizzie a look of quiet admiration and tell Alec I'm just outside. “Hurry,” he urges.

“I'll be back in ten minutes,” I tell Lizzie.

“Tell him I said hi.”

“Will do.” I pop open the door, the sharp, winter cold air surprising my lungs, and my bare legs. Dubstep beckons from within the house. I go inside, my entire body zipping with the promise of seeing Alec. I spot him seated at the large dining room table, his posture easy against the high-backed chair as he surveys a game of quarters.

His gaze settles on me as I walk into the room and his smile grows, lighting his eyes. He cuts a quick glance to the room behind him and throws a nod. The corners of my mouth twitch up at this secret communication. Alec gets up from the table and I make my way through the crowd, following him. I'm halfway through the throng when someone grabs my forearm. I stop short. Gregg.

“Remember me?” he asks.

“H-hey,” I stammer.

“We met once or twice.”

I look down at my arm. “Let go.”

His fingers lift immediately. “There are other things—other people—in the world besides Alec, you know.” He takes a short swig of beer.

“You're drunk.”

“Or maybe I'm the only one willing to tell you what you need to hear.
In vino veritas.
” He raises his glass.

“I'm confused. You're calling me out for hanging with Alec when you're the one who
chose
not to speak to me for the longest time? And then we saw you at breakfast and you acted like everything was okay?” It's surprising how much anger that stupid breakfast can boil in me even now. I turn from him, move through the crowd to Alec.

Alec grabs my hands, spreads my arms open, drinks me in. “Damn.” He leans in, kisses my neck, strokes one finger along its length. “I never thought it was possible to miss someone's neck.” His words purr into my ear, so soft against the noise booming from the other rooms. “Where's Lizzie?”

“She's waiting outside. I've got ten minutes.”

He plays up dejected eyes. “Sad news.”

“It's better than not seeing you at all.”

“Too right.” He adjusts his stance, moves the toe of his sneaker against my boot. “I saw you talking to Slice.”

“Yeah, it was nothing.”

“Exchanging words is never nothing.”

“Nothing important.”

“Did he mention me?”

I nod.

“What did you say?”

“I told him I was here to see you. Only you.”

He kisses me on the nose. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I don't know. For coming.” He gives a shy laugh. “Or maybe, for choosing me.”

“It wasn't a contest.”

He bites gently on my earlobe. “How about I prove to you that you made the right choice?”

“You can do that in ten minutes?”

He raises his hand to trace the crease of my smile, the way my lips run into the swell of my cheeks. His eyes fire. “Maybe I'll surprise you.”

Oh my. “Consider my interest piqued.”

He smirks a devil's grin and directs me into a spare bedroom.

He pulls the door shut behind me. “You look beautiful.” He opens my coat, runs his palm over my neck, my collar bone. My body faints against the door. His hands rest at my waist and his fingers tuck under the band of my skirt. My breath shuffles out in erratic bursts. He pops the clasp.

I grab his hand. “Not here.”

He plucks my hand away. “Why not?”

“What if someone comes in?”

His lips meet my neck. I dissolve when I feel the heat of his breath on my skin. “Don't worry, I locked the door. Now stop interrupting me, I'm up against a serious deadline here.”

A small laugh trickles out as I relax. His mouth hovers between my face and neck and I wonder if his kiss will land on my jawline or my lips. His hands find my shirt, float over my breasts. He pushes up my top, exposing my bra. He smoothes his lips over my chest, making my breathing heave, forcing my hands to fumble in the softness of his hair. He crouches and nestles his head against my stomach, lowering until his mouth finds my skirt.

My eyes dart open to the dark room as his teeth open my skirt's side zipper slowly, methodically. I feel the metal open, catch by catch. Then he's slipping the skirt down over the spiked rise of my hips and letting it drop to the floor.

I should tell him to stop. I want to tell him to stop. But I don't want him to stop. Not yet.

I step out of my skirt. He guides me to the bed.

He kisses me, reclines me onto my back before his fingers brush the inside curve of my knee, the soft length of my inner thigh. My back arches. My hands search for fabric, anything to steady my whirling head.

Oh god.

And then, he stops. My breath is ragged, wanting. Alec stands over me, studying me. He hooks a finger through the spaghetti string of my underwear and tugs. “Do you think you need these?” There's a laugh sitting under his words, but it's mixed with something darker. A desire for more?

My body stiffens. Does he want to have sex? Here? Now? I am so not ready. I shuffle back on the bed. Suddenly, the music outside our door is too loud. The pressure too great. “Alec, I can't . . .”

“Can't what? Feel good?” He steadies me, studies me. “That's all I want for you, Zephyr. I'll stop if you want me to . . .”

“No.” The word is out before I can stop it. And I don't want to take it back.

Alec plays with the side string of my underwear. “Would it be all right if I took these off?”

I nod because anticipation wins out over fear.

He tugs and my hip wrenches toward him with the force. Material splits. One side, then the other. Ecstasy floods through me in a flash of endless, soaring white. He slips the material from my body. I watch him ball the severed cotton in his palm and tuck it into his back pocket.