This Is Falling (25 page)

While I wait in a line that literally wraps
around the building’s insides, I pull out my phone to text Ty.

Me:
You’re never going to believe what
happened.

Ty:
You ran into Sadie.

Me:
Uh, how’d you know?

Ty:
I’m watching the game with Cass. They
did an interview with the OSU coach before the game, and the team
was in the background.

Me:
Super.

Ty:
I’m guessing it didn’t go
well?

Me:
I’m pretty sure Rowe wants to choke
me. Or punch me. Or both.

Ty:
Should she?

Me:
Probably.

Ty:
Tell her I’ll hold you down.

Me:
Thanks.

Ty:
Hey, that’s what brothers are for. Oh,
and Sadie looks hot.

Me:
Not helping.

Ty:
Didn’t say I was good at helping. Just
holding you down for beatings.

Me:
Thanks…again

Ty:
Anytime

I order a large soda and some Red Vines and
make my way back to our seats a few minutes before halftime. Of
course, just to make sure I feel the full brunt of the universe’s
punishment for me, when I turn down our row, Sadie is now sitting
in my seat—talking to Rowe.

“Oh, sorry. I was just waiting for you to get
back. Really nice to meet you Rowe,” Sadie says, sliding past me
and kneeling in the aisle while I take my seat next to Rowe. “I
wanted to let you know my parents are coming up in a couple weeks
for our home match up with Oklahoma. They’d love to see you I’m
sure. Just…if you can make it.”

“Thanks, I have a few fall tournaments coming
up, so I don’t know if I can make it. But…we’ll see,” I say, trying
to be polite. That’s the problem—I’m too damn polite, and I can
tell I said the wrong thing again by the way Rowe’s weight shifts
next to me.

“Okay, well, hope you can make it.” Her legs
are almost in my lap when she stands to walk away, and I notice
Rowe’s eyes grow wide just looking at them. Sadie is extremely
attractive, and she’s confident. Hell, she used to intimidate me.
But she’s nothing compared to Rowe. I just have to make Rowe
understand that.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think she’d come talk to
you while I was gone.” My voice sounds pathetic and meek—it’s not
enough.

“She’s nice,” she says, her eyes so goddamned
sad. Rowe won’t even look at me, and when I offer her a Red Vine,
she just sighs and holds up a hand.

They introduce the OSU team during halftime,
and the announcer does a brief interview with Sadie and a few of
the other players. She looks my direction a few times, and I can
tell she wants to make sure I’m watching, but this time I keep my
hands in my lap and my attention anywhere but her.

“I think I wanna go home early. Is…is that
okay?” They’re the first words Rowe has said to me directly in
almost an hour, and I react instantly.

“Whatever you want,” I say, pulling my
sweatshirt back over my head and putting my hand along her back to
guide her out through the aisle. When we get to the stairs, she
shirks my touch, and it stings.

The first half of the car ride is filled with
more silence. I smile at her quietly, and she gives me a fake smile
in return, but I know the truth behind her eyes. I hurt her, and
being there in front of Sadie made her uncomfortable, and I didn’t
handle it well. I just didn’t know how to make it better.

“Look, Rowe. I’m really sorry we ran into
Sadie. I…I don’t really know what to say. It was just really
awkward.” She laughs once, rolling her eyes and looking out her
window. “I know, I should have just ignored her or cut the
conversation off quickly, but I’m not good at being an
asshole.”

“I don’t know, Nate. I think you’ve got
asshole down pat,” she says, her eyes on me for the first time all
night. She’s pissed, but she’s talking to me, so I’ll take it.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I say, taking
in another deep breath. “I’m really sorry.”

“You called me your
friend
, Nate.”
She’s actually yelling now. We’re pulling into the lot at school,
and all I want to do is stay here in this car and figure things
out, but the moment I put it in park, she opens her door and slams
it in my face.

“I know. I just panicked. I didn’t want to
hurt Sadie’s feelings, flaunting my relationship in her face,” I
start, but Rowe spins around to face me, her hand flat on my chest
to keep an arm’s distance between us.

“You didn’t want to hurt
her
feelings?” she says, letting out a breathy laugh that’s laced with
tears. “You didn’t want to hurt your ex-girlfriend’s feelings—the
girl who cheated on you with your best friend. The one you told me
you fell out of love with and never looked back. That’s…wow. That’s
truly amazing and kind of you, Nate…to think of
her
feelings
like that.”

“There’s a history there…and I just froze. I
haven’t talked to her in months, and I just didn’t want to make her
uncomfortable.” Shit! I’m making this worse.

Rowe starts walking away, laughing loudly now
with her arms in the air. I’m a good ten paces behind her—my feet
glued to the sidewalk with guilt—when she turns around one last
time at the door.

“Well, good for you, Nate. I’m glad you were
able to spare
her
feelings. But man…you sure fucked-over
mine.” She’s through the door in an instant, and I just let her go,
because I need time to figure out how to say the meaningful words
Rowe needs to hear—the things I desperately need to say but can’t
seem to articulate. Clearly, my brain needs recalibrating because
it has done nothing but make the wrong move for the last two
hours.

Me:
Home early. Wanna grab a beer at
Sally’s?

Ty:
Be right down. Saw Rowe in the hall.
I’m guessing you’ll fill me in.

Me:
Yeah, it’s gonna take a few beers to
fix this.

Ty:
You’re buying.

Me:
Naturally.

Chapter
22

Rowe

“Well, last night could not have gone any
worse,” I say while Cass finishes getting ready for her Friday
morning class. She’s half the girly girl Paige is, but she still
takes a while getting ready every morning.

“Okay, walk me through this again. So you two
ran into his ex, and he said you were his
friend,
” Cass
peeks her head around the corner while she holds her hair up on her
head, poking a pin in the side.

“Yep, that’s pretty much it.”

“Well, I do date his brother, and they can
both be pretty stupid. Honestly, I wouldn’t worry about it,” she
says, leaning back in to look over her hair in the mirror.

“Right, okay. I won’t worry about it. Poof!
Look at that, I’m not worrying. Suddenly, I have no troubles. Good
advice,” I’m being a little bitchy, but Cass isn’t really feeling
the seriousness of what I’m saying.

“Well, now you’re just being mean. I’m going
to class. Try to fix your attitude before I get back so we can go
to his game tonight. Your parents still coming for the tournament
tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” I sulk.

“Hey, why don’t you go to the gym or
something? Get your mind off of things since you don’t have a class
this afternoon,” she says, pulling her backpack from her chair.

“Maybe,” I say, still not willing to be
cheery.

“Whatever, I’m done helping you. See you at
four.” I love Cass’s brand of tough love, and in most ways, she’s
the perfect friend for me. But right now, I just want someone to
want to help me spread rumors about Nate on the Internet.

After Cass leaves, I try just kicking my feet
up at my desk and watching TV. I used to watch soap operas with my
mom. I was really into
Days of our Lives.
What’s amazing is
how I haven’t watched it once since I’ve been at McConnell, yet
here I am, able to tune in and know exactly what’s happening in the
storyline. Jack is dead…or is he? Jennifer is dating some doctor.
And Hope is looking for someone on an island. Yep, all caught
up.

Maybe Cass is right. Maybe I should check out
the rec center. They had some great tennis courts, and it looked
like they had pick-up games going on a lot. Maybe I could get back
into it…just a little.

It takes me a while to pull my racket out
from the bottom of my trunk. It’s still buried under the thick
winter coat I have yet to use. I haven’t swung it seriously in two
years, but I could still beat my dad. So maybe there’s still
something there.

I change into a pair of cotton shorts and a
thin T-shirt, then grab my iPod and lock up. If no one is there,
I’ll just put my racket in a locker and try out a few of the
machines. Nate’s been gone since early this morning. I know,
because I waited outside our door for his to crack open, and then I
hurried inside before he could notice. He lingered in the hallway
for a while, which made me feel…nice. But it didn’t last long; that
unsettled feeling moved right back in again.

“Oh good. I guessed right. I was about to
give up,” Tucker says from the bench outside our dorm building. He
looks like he’s been running, and the fact that he’s waiting
here—for me—suddenly has my stomach churning.

“Wha….were you waiting for me?” I’m a little
freaked out, and I can feel my left eye starting to twitch.

“Uh…I…yeah. I was. I’m sorry. That’s creepy
isn’t it? I was out running and then I sort of found myself here,
and then I started to think, ‘huh, I bet she lives here,’ and then
next thing I know I’m sort of sitting here for a while playing with
my iPod. Sorry, I…hmmmm. Yeah, just sort of did this. I don’t
know.” He looks nervous and embarrassed, which actually sets me a
little at ease.

“It’s okay. I was just surprised by it. I’m
heading out…actually?” I scrunch my shoulders, trying to feign
disappointment. I don’t want to hurt Tucker’s feelings, but I also
don’t want him hanging around my building. And I
really
don’t want Nate seeing him hang around my building.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I was just running by.
Where you headed? I’ll head back with you.”

Great.
“I’m just going for a quick
workout. Try and get a few swings in,” I say, holding up the
racket.

“Need a partner?”

He’s persistent. But I don’t think he’s
really threatening, and I
do
need someone to volley with. I
was dreading the idea of working in with a group of strangers. I’m
not sure how much Tucker knows about tennis, but I’m willing to
give him a try. And it will get us moving out of here, away from my
dorm and farther away from the ball fields I know Nate is at for
most of today.

“So, what made you pick art history?” He’s
making small talk during our walk to the courts, and I’m grateful
he’s carrying the conversation, because I can’t think of a single
thing to say.

“Well, I’m one of those big
undecideds
. Duh duh duh,” I sing dramatically. “Anyway, I
took a variety of electives this semester to try to figure out
exactly what I want to do. I really like art, but not necessarily
the creation of it. I’m more into the appreciation—and I think I
can tell a story from a work of art. You know, sort of help
interpret what the artist meant for the masses? God, that sounds
arrogant, huh?” I have been leaning toward a degree in art history
though, and I even went so far as to look into internships with the
Oklahoma City Museum of Art.

“Actually, I think that sounds amazing. Your
answer the other day? That was awesome. I’m a second-year art
history major, and I’ve been helping out in Gooding’s class, trying
to earn brownie points. I think you’d fit right in,” he says. I
watch as he rolls up the cord on his iPod, tucking it in his
shorts, and then I realize I’m staring at his very toned arms for
way
too long. Our eyes make contact for a brief second, and
I recognize that flash of flirtation in his gaze again.
Oh god.
No, this is NOT flirting!

“So what are you hoping to do when you’re
done? Run a gallery or something?” I ask, doing my best to steer
the conversation back to those moments before his forearms and my
gawking.

“Me? Galleries? No, that’s not really my
thing. It’s going to sound awful, but…I like the money behind art,”
he says, wincing a little at his confession.

“Yeah, that does sound bad. Like, a thief?
Or, what…you want to run auctions or a pawn shop?”

“No,” he chuckles. “More like appraisals and
high-end art dealing. I like that fact that art
is
a
commodity. And I think it would be a fun business to be a part
of—that’s all.”

I take in everything he says, and when he
puts it that way, it does make sense. The only reason art is
something I could major in is because of the value it brings to the
economy. It’s all well and good to think that we appreciate the
arts for their intrinsic value, and I truly do. But I wouldn’t be
able to if someone somewhere didn’t pay for it.

“Okay, I’m down with your career plan. As
long as it funds mine,” I smile big and hold out my fist. Tucker
just laughs and then gives me knuckles.

“Deal,” he says, holding the gate open for
the tennis courts. “All right, so take it easy on me, okay? I’m
more of the lift-heavy-things kind of athlete. I might not be too
much competition right away, but I’m a quick study.”

“Sure. I’ll take it easy,” I say, winking at
him as I pull my racket from its zipper bag. And damn…I’m flirting
again.

Tucker wasn’t as bad as he said he was. I did
win every set, but he took a few games to deuce, and they weren’t
easy wins. An hour of playing had me exhausted, but my head was
finally starting to clear up, and now all I could think about was
getting back home so I could get ready to go to Nate’s game
tonight. I needed to see him, and I needed to talk to him after his
game—tell him how much he meant to me, whether or not he said it
back.