Page 12 of The Fall

I was surprised by her aggressive step forward as she readjusted her backpack on her shoulder. “And what makes you think I’ll go along with this?”

“I’ll make it easy on you, Dallas, I promise,” I murmured, lifting her backpack off her shoulder and pulling it onto mine. Right at that moment, Tina Walker passed by and shot Dallas daggers with her eyes and then turned her attention to me and smiled sweetly.

Hell no. Stay away from that one.

Dallas ignored her gracefully, and right then, I knew I had made the right decision. I smiled down at her while she watched me with curiosity.

“Where are we off to?”

“Debate,” she piped warily.

“Isn’t that an advanced course?” I asked, curious.

“Yeah,” she answered, slightly embarrassed. I chuckled. She straightened her shoulders, a sign of clear pride in her posture. “I have yet to lose.”

Of course, Dallas Whitaker, honor student and queen of debate. Lord help me, this girl was fire.

I kept my promise and made it easy on her. However, what I didn’t count on was the hard luck I had created for myself. We were inseparable at first, and I couldn’t for the life of me get away from her. Her smile and her voice were both addicting. I kept her at arm’s length while every word she spoke, every little mannerism drew me to her. Like the way she drank her sweet tea, taking a sip and a piece of ice before slurping and chomping them down in equal measure. Or her filthy habit of chewing on every single pen lid until it’s an unrecognizable mess. Or the way she paused right before she began to laugh really hard, as if the laughter wouldn’t come until she’d built it up to the point it burst out of her. I actually adored these things, while it might drive some people crazy.

I tried to ignore how much she appealed to the guy in me. I tried so hard, but every time she looked up through those long thick lashes, I found it just a little bit harder to breathe. Every time she walked toward me each morning at school and left the stares of the guys who eyed her unanswered, I tried to hide the pride that swelled inside me.

She was only fifteen, and I was about to turn eighteen.

I couldn’t fall for this girl. It was my new daily mantra.

I COULD NOT FALL FOR THIS GIRL.

So, I tried my best not to. I went on several dates a month, a few ending in a gratifying way to elude thoughts of Dallas. She was simply too young. I had plans. I was off to Austin in the fall. It was all I ever wanted. Austin led to New York and, with it, Columbia University. I’d become a doctor, and this small-town life that never suited me would be a distant memory.

I hated small towns. We had just moved from inner-city Dallas. Moving to the outskirts had been my mom’s idea. She wanted out of the chaos. I simply wanted back in. I found quiet in the noise and excelled under pressure. It was sure to help me once I reached Columbia.

My mom informed me that this move would be good for me, help tame me a bit. I never got into trouble, but I think she knew how involved I was with the seduction of the opposite sex. Why she thought there was a shortage of girls in this school was beyond me. As far as I saw, it was clear and easy pickings, and their virtue was the same. Maybe it was Dallas’s innocence that drew me in. But I knew better. Even at seventeen—with my hormones raging and an endless supply of female attention—she was special to me.

I didn’t care to know the girls I was dating, but I did want to know Dallas…indefinitely. She fascinated me by being the polar opposite of the girls I took out on Friday nights. She was book-smart, sarcastic, and full of pride. She was far more mature than any girl I’d dated. There was just something about her, and it was becoming easier to pinpoint as I spent time with her. After a few weeks of knowing her, she declared that she, too, would be a doctor. The funny thing was, when she said it, I believed it. When I said it, I always felt like I was on shaky ground.

“What are you thinking about?” Dallas asked, making a meal out of her pen cap as she watched me closely, propped up in her bed, cross-legged with an open book.

I was jealous of that pen cap.

Ignoring her question, I looked around her room and saw that she had no boy band posters. In fact, she had nothing of the sort. It looked like the room of a mad scientist, not a fifteen-year-old girl. Her walls were decorated with colorful abstract shots of water. The rest of the room was filled with mostly science books. I pressed my brows together in confusion.

“Water is the universal solvent,” she said quickly as I stared closely at one of the water photos. “It washes away everything, all impurities. It’s magical.”

“Hmm, interesting,” I said, pretending to push up glasses on my nose that didn’t exist.

“Shut up. It really is cool what water can do,” she defended. She went into minor detail about the magic of water, ending in an impressive spiel about the psychological effects as well. I was slightly intimidated, so naturally, I made a joke about it.

“You are really weird. You know that?” I said, half-kidding as she pulled the pen from her mouth.

The bedroom door suddenly flew open, and a kid no more than ten or twelve burst through. She had fiery red hair and the same green eyes as Dallas.

“She is a total weirdo! My dad says she gets it from my mom.”

“Rose Whitaker, get out of this room right now!” Dallas fired at her little sister. Rose, ignoring her completely, looked at me with curiosity. I winked at her as her cheeks reddened, and she approached me with caution.

“So, you are Dean. Do you have any brothers?” I laughed loudly as I looked over at Dallas, who was glaring at her sister.

“No, I’m an only child.”

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