To Fall (The To Fall Trilogy Book 1) (13 page)

I looked back to see who would be Xander’s partner. My mouth gaped open. Danielle Quincy. Really? Of all the people… Obviously, she would go for Xander. Anyone in their right mind would go for Xander. Clearly, I was all up in my left mind.

Any chance I had with him was gone. Beth flashed me a look, she knew. My name should be, Abby “The Moron” Miller. I wilted in my seat.

During class, I stole glances over at Danielle and Xander. Apparently, she felt cold from her lack of clothing and needed to wear Xander as a blanket, which worked out, because then they could share a textbook and get cozy. He certainly found his Chatty Kathy; they talked the entire period. I guess if I had a pair of Double-D’s and shoved them in his face, he could have found it in himself to carry on a longer conversation with words inclusive of more than one syllable.

After class, I didn’t bother to wait for Xander. What was the point? Turn myself into the unwanted third wheel? No thanks. Hurrying as fast as I could tolerate, I went to my second class, literature. I did my best to focus on the lecture, but my mind kept reverting to the image of Danielle and Xander. My stomach churned.

It was lunchtime. I grabbed the lunch bag from my locker and went to find Mel and Beth. I needed to vent about Xander. I needed to hear someone call Danielle a tart and I could count on both of them for that.

A brief walk across campus and I was back in the safety of the air conditioner. Long lines of students filled the Union. The smell of herbs cooking, the scraping of chairs along the floor, and busy chatter filled the room. Mel, Beth, and I had a table in the middle of the room. I went straight to it. Mel was there all right with her new accessory, Tyler. The heavy groping and slurping of tongues made me rethink the lunch situation.

I looked for Beth, she would listen, and she would get it. Today was not my day. My eyes found Danielle first. She was bent over a table with her blue bra straining to hold back her chest. Long blonde hair streaked with electric blue, twirled around a French manicured finger. The yellow mini skirt couldn’t cover her modestly and a matching thong peeked out. After my initial shock at the Frederick’s of Hollywood display, I noticed the group she was talking to.

My stomach twisted to four of the most beautiful people I had ever seen: Xander, Caleb, a redhead, and a blonde. Even sitting down, I could tell the girls were taller than me. Each with stunning profiles, curvy silhouettes, and their hair even shined under the dim fluorescent lights. It was a physical impossibility that anyone could have shiny hair under these lights.

The stunning four were dressed alike, much too warm for today as though they weren’t from here or the heat had no effect on them, too beautiful to sweat. Each wore jeans fitting tight to their curves and polo shirts, colors varying. They should be in a photo shoot for polo shirts on a yacht with their shiny hair whipping in the breeze, smiling their perfect white smiles.

I thought it was enough to be jealous of Danielle, and now I had these two girls. Xander was comfortable with them, sat close with them, smiled with them. I had nothing on any of them. I was a representative of the Lollipop Guild with a bad heart and a scar on my chest. Not to mention the dull hair and non-model like features. No wonder why Xander would never go for me, or why he wouldn’t want my number, or even tell me he was going to the same school as me. Why would he bother when he could get any girl he wanted.

And he didn’t want me.

I bit my lip to stay the tears. Danielle shifted and she might as well be sitting in Xander’s lap giving him a special dance. Somehow, I realized Xander’s eyes had locked onto mine over Danielle’s shoulder. I was staring. And worse, he knew I was staring. I had to get out of here.

Spinning, I almost ran into a boy who was struggling to balance his tray that had enough mashed potatoes to replicate the scene from
Close Encounters of the Third Kind
. I almost stayed just to see if he could eat it all. Muttering an apology to him, I sped out. I didn’t know where I would go, but I kept on, as fast as I could handle.

I had to stay away from Alexander Wright.
Stop thinking about him, stop dreaming about him, stop wanting him, and for goodness sake, stop loving him
. Xander was a heartache on two muscular legs.

Eating outside was a bad idea, but there was no way I could stay in the Union. I found shade under a mesquite tree hosting a cicada symphony. I hoped it would be over soon; my temples began to throb. I opened my lunch, but hunger abandoned me. All I could focus on was the man I loved getting a rub down by Danielle, plus the two others. A foursome? My heart hurt.

I popped my earbuds in. Music would probably help. It should help. Nope, the tears were coming and that horrible lump grew bigger in my throat. Just as my teeth sunk into my lip, a shadow appeared on the grass in front of me. Blinking, I looked up, but the Arizona sun had the power to sear retinas. I cursed myself for leaving my sunglasses at home. Pulling my earbud out, I squinted.

“Hey, Abby. I thought I saw you inside.” Caleb knelt down on the grass. His hair was styled in a faux hawk today, eyes like bright aquamarine. “You should have come over and sat with us.”

I prayed my eyes weren’t red like they always were when I cried. “Hey, Caleb. Um, yeah…you and your brother looked…busy. And I had to get some work done, anyway.” Blatant lie.

His brows shot up. “Already? Must be some first day of school.”

“Yeah,” I croaked.

He gave me a pity nod, the kind the neighbors gave my parents as they handed them a casserole when I came home from the hospital. “Don’t work too hard. I’ll see you around.”

“See ya.”

Turning, Caleb began texting someone. No doubt, he had a long list of admirers to choose from in his contacts.

My peanut butter and jelly went into the trash on the way to my locker. I grabbed the rest of my books for the afternoon classes, and as I finished, Jake strolled up.

Running a hand through his hair, brown strands fell right back into his eyes. “Abby, how’s your first day going?” He looked like he wanted to know.

I shrugged. “It’s the first day.”

“I hear ya. You have Professor Reddish for Spanish?”

“Yeah, Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

Cringing, he shouldered his bag. “Good luck. I had him for first period this morning. He was brutal.”

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll keep my head down.”

“Keep your voice down, too. He’s a nitpicker for enunciations. I’ve gotta get to class.” He gave me a playful swat on the arm.

“Yeah, see ya around.” Maybe I was wrong. Jake seemed like a decent guy when he was sober. I finished up at my locker and headed off to class.

17

Abby

I was dreading biology until I spotted Will. Smiling, he patted the empty chair next to him. I was glad we paired up again and I laughed the entire period. Will gave Dr. Easley’s mustache a voice with a Scottish accent. Rogue hairs begged for trimming and screamed as equally hairy nostrils sucked them up.

After two hours in my seat, I trekked my numb butt to culinary class. The building was at the other end of campus and I was last to arrive. My bag was too heavy and it slowed me down even more. I should have stopped at my locker first. Sliding through the door after class started, I looked at the instructor and mouthed,
Sorry.

Somehow, she got the memo that I was special. Awesome. “Go ahead and take the kitchen there, Abby.”

I groaned. Xander was in this class, too, and the station she pointed to was next to his. This day sucked.

There were six of us in the class: Greg Johnson, Jake Turner, Mark Richards, Sophie Finley, Xander Wright, and me. Mrs. Bradley stood an inch taller than me thanks to her pumps. And thank goodness she had the patience that would guarantee sainthood. First, we had to go around the room and introduce ourselves and state why we were taking the class.

Mark was first. His black hair was coiffed into stiff, gelled spikes. Beth told me his hair didn’t move in gale-force winds and he wouldn’t leave the house until he primped. His sideburns were so sharp they looked like he used a stencil to shape them, and I suspected he waxed his brows. I couldn’t stand when guys did that. It was too clean, too pretty. He wore skinny jeans today, another turn off for me. I preferred guys to look like guys. Rugged and masculine. Like…Xander.

“I’m here to meet girls.” And Mark was direct. I was sure the other guys had the same reason, but they gave different answers.

Sophie Finley spoke second, well, her lips moved, but I couldn’t hear her answer. She was a waif of a thing and rarely glanced up from the floor. Her clothes looked like they came from a seventies time capsule intended for a much bigger woman. And she wore socks with sandals.

“I’m Greg Johnson. I want to cook better than Mike.”

Mrs. Bradley shook her head. “Who’s Mike?”

“The microwave. He’s the cook in my dorm.”

We all laughed except Mrs. Bradley. She looked horrified.

Jake said he was tired of eating the same thing. No joke, his mom had the same meals assigned to each day of the week. How boring.

Xander said he needed the practice.

When it came to me, I explained, “I’m just trying to learn how not to burn down my house.” Which was true, but everyone laughed.

Today, we were cooking spaghetti. Mark wanted to know where the jar of sauce was so he could “open them for da ladies.” I rolled my eyes; he was too much of a white guy for that sentence. I needed to have a long discussion with Beth about reevaluating her boyfriend criteria. That bar needed to be set higher. At least an inch off the ground.

Much to most of our dismay, we were cooking our own sauce.

Mrs. Bradley announced, “Since this is our first class, I thought we would join forces today. Everyone pair up with the student to your right.”

Xander. Sucking in a deep breath, I dragged myself to his kitchen. Tanned, bulky arms held him up against the counter and he watched me. I willed him to forget this morning and lunchtime. I could pretend it never happened. He probably didn’t care and was used to the stares of girls as he walked by. He would have a list as long as Caleb’s in his cell with names that ended in I.

I washed my hands first. With a peek over my shoulder, his hands were clenched into white fists and he was definitely staring at me. Weird.

We had to chop garlic, onion, basil, and oregano. Xander cut and chopped with ease as though he had come straight from the kitchen of a four-star restaurant. He finished the basil, oregano, and onion while I fought with the garlic. He waited for me, not impatiently, though.

“Let me help you.” Xander’s voice was husky and polite. Why couldn’t he be a jerk and make this easier on me?

I kept my eyes on the garlic and used a knife to separate the cloves because my fingers couldn’t get them apart. “I’d like to do it myself, thank you.”

Tilting his head down to mine, his voice dropped to a whisper. “Have I done something wrong?”

I muttered, “No.” I wished I believed that.

He sighed. “I won’t stand here and watch you lose a finger.”

Suddenly, something hard and warm wrapped around me. My back was against his chest, arms roped in steel rested on mine, long fingers slid into view. His legs spread to allow room for mine, but his hips were the one body part that didn’t touch me.

Good Heavens, he felt amazing. His body radiated heat, his hands strong but gentle, and he smelled incredible. Warm breath danced on my neck, and I blamed the tingles waving up and down my back for forcing my eyes to close and my heart to pound.

Taking my hands, he showed me how to open the garlic and smash it with a knife. After peeling the skin off, Xander guided my knife in one hand and the other tucked my fingers in. His movements were slow and methodical, his voice quiet and patient. This was right, being up against him like this, being with him, in his arms. Why did he make me feel this way?

Like I was…home.

I had to stop thinking like this.
He just wants a good grade. That’s why he’s helping me.

Mrs. Bradley gave us an approving look, and then bolted after Jake, who hacked away at his onion like a bad Kung Fu movie, sound effects included. I giggled within Xander’s cage and felt his body shake with laughter around mine.

Once we minced the garlic, he let go of me, and leaned over so our eyes lined up. “There, perfect.” His hot hands slid off mine.

“Thanks,” I breathed out. I didn’t realize how out of breath I was or that my heart was in overdrive.

Nodding, he grabbed the pots and pans, and I turned my burner on. Plumes of smoke came from Greg and Jake’s kitchen, my throat itched, and my eyes watered. Xander reached over and flipped their fan on. Greg kept saying, “oopsies,” which coming from the giant in the room, sounded hilarious. Xander caught me laughing and I caught him smiling at me.

My attention went back to the stove.

“You’re hot.” Xander’s tone was thick and husky.

Turning, my face had lava running through it. “Huh?”

Laughing, he turned the knob. “Your burner is too hot. We’ll end up like those two over there.” He nodded to Greg and Jake.

“Oh. Thanks.”

My gaze caught Mark and Sophie. He looked mad, leaning against the counter, texting with his thin brows pinched, and he didn’t bother helping her. Refocusing on our kitchen, Xander was staring at me again.

Xander cooked the onion and garlic, and I grabbed the cans of tomato. The can opener slid off and hit the counter. I tried a few more times, hoping it was a faulty mechanism, but certain it was operator error. I wanted to get this, but he held his hand out, and I relinquished the can opener.

With a defeated sigh, I said, “Sorry, I’m useless here. You’d be better on your own.”

His eyes caught mine. “Well, Julia Child you are not, but you’re way prettier and you make me smile.”

My eyes must have been the size of tennis balls. Why did he have to say this kind of stuff to me? And why did he keep looking directly into my eyes? Was that Good Manners One-oh-One or something?

He opened the cans and I put the spaghetti in the water. We stood at the stove. Close. Boiling water splashed out at me, and before I could flinch, huge clamps landed on my shoulders and tugged me back. Xander reached over and turned the burner down. He could have told me to do that.

The room filled with the smell of tomato sauce, and the lack of lunch had my tummy rumbling, excited to eat our finished product. Mrs. Bradley wanted us to sample everything before we plated. She insisted on it. I chased two strands of spaghetti, which took forever, and Xander waited for me.

Popping a strand in his mouth, I watched him and his pink tongue lick those full lips, and I turned away with burning cheeks.

“Mmm, it’s perfect. You try.”

I did. He was right.

Grabbing a plastic spoon, he dipped it in the sauce and handed it to me. Our fingers brushed, and once again, my cheeks went red. All the tomatoey goodness danced on my taste buds; his sauce was better than any I had tasted. I realized he was staring at me with a startling intensity, waiting for my critique.

“It’s perfect,” I repeated his compliment.

With a curt nod, he spun and blew out a sigh. Okay, that was strange.

Placing the strainer in the sink, I went to grab the pot, but the potholders left my hands. “I’ll get it, Abby. It’s heavy.”

The pot wasn’t that heavy. Was I so inept that I couldn’t dump hot water? The mountain of muscles shaking the strainer of excess water silenced my thoughts. This whole not-thinking-about-Xander thing was a lost cause.

Xander and I plated seven Styrofoam bowls, ignoring that his fingers brushed mine seven times. Totally wasn’t counting.

We each tasted the other’s spaghetti.

Sophie and Mark’s dish was good. I had to spit out Greg and Jake’s. And ours—or Xander’s actually—was the best. After cleaning up, we began filing out of class.

Xander slowly packed his bag. I wasn’t sure if he meant to talk to me after class or gorgeous people didn’t hurry. Sophie was huddled on the floor, picking up strewn papers. Mark stepped right over her, almost on her hand, and left laughing. I abandoned my bag and helped pick up her papers. Sniffles came from behind a curtain of long, stringy brown hair. I didn’t hate people, but Mark was pushing me.

I knelt next to her. “Sophie, I liked your spaghetti.”

She sniffed, keeping her head down.

I asked, “Can I help you with anything?”

She shook her head. I grabbed a tissue from the desk and handed it to her. Sophie wiped her tears behind the large plastic frames that looked like they belonged on a woman with a walker and a
Bingo
obsession. She choked out, “Thanks. I’m sorry. He was such a—” She stopped herself as though she wasn’t allowed to say anything bad about someone in the popular crowd.

“Jerk?” I supplied and she nodded. “I know, but before you punt kick his skinny butt, you have to stand in line. I’m number twenty, so…”

Her eyes brightened. “Who’s got number one?”

“My best friend. Between you and me, she grabbed nineteen tickets, but I won’t begrudge her.”

She laughed and blew her nose. “What did he do to her?”

“Cheated.”

She nodded. “Nineteen isn’t enough.”

I stepped out with her and she thanked me again and went the opposite way.

“That was nice of you.”

I whirled to see Xander leaning against the wall. After a thorough swallow, I shrugged. “She was upset.”

His head cocked to the side and the ruffled hair on his brow followed. “Is Sophie your friend?”

“I…no, I never talked to her before today.”

Xander pushed off the wall and closed the distance. His chin jutted toward the class door. “Why did you stay with her?”

“Everyone has those moments. Moments that they feel…weak and lost. Sometimes you just need to know someone out there cares, that you’re not alone. In that way, we’re all the same.”

He blinked and said nothing. I walked to my locker.