Page 20 of The Fall

“Nothing, I don’t have a problem,” I barked back. “I just didn’t expect you to greet me in your underwear.”

She pushed past me in a huff, stomping off toward the parking lot.

“Dallas,” I called after her, apology clear in my voice.

“Bite me, Martin,” she said, pulling out her cell to text someone.

“You need a ride?” I said, quickly catching up with her. I grabbed her arm and turned her to face me and saw her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.

I was the worst human alive.

“I’m sorry,” I said instantly. I’d never seen Dallas’s resolve waver in the six months I’d known her. The guilt I felt at that moment left a large lump in my throat. She looked at her flip-flops, refusing to meet my eyes. I grasped her chin, and she took it away with a quick turn of her head. She took deep breaths to calm herself.

“I just won’t come anymore,” she whispered.

“No, Dallas, it’s not that,” I offered. But what the hell could I say? I needed her to stay away. I needed to get her out of my head.

“It’s fine.” She looked up as tears disbursed down her cheeks. “I am weird. I am. And you know that about me. No one else does. I thought we got along. I thought we—”

“You’re perfect,” I interrupted. Only a step closer, and I would have her in my arms. I shook my head and ran my hands through my hair in frustration. “We do get along, Dallas,” I offered, fisting my hands in an effort to keep myself from pulling her to me. She glared at me.

“No, you and girls like Lindsey do. I’m just…me.” She looked past me, and I noticed her mom’s SUV pulling up. “Bye,” she rasped out, wiping her face before making quick strides to the truck and jumping in.

“Mom, don’t.” I heard her hiss her protest as the passenger window rolled down. Dallas sank in her seat, clearly embarrassed. I felt for her. My mom was just as intrusive.

“Hi, Dean,” she chimed. “Did he win?” she tried to ask Dallas discreetly. She sat with her arms crossed, giving her mom a murderous stare.

“I did,” I answered for her, leaning into Dallas’s window. She flinched as I inched near her, and I shared a knowing smile with her mom, Laura. Dallas was anything but forgiving when she was mad.

“Thanks for coming, Dallas.” I kissed her cheek and waved at them as they drove off. I saw Dallas glance at me in the rearview. I smiled broadly and caught her reluctant smile.

My spitfire.

Sitting in my car in front of her house on prom night had tested my limits. I’d wanted to ask her. In truth, all year, I’d only wanted her. I saw her bedroom light on as I sat in my tux, ready for a night I didn’t want to spend without her. I was supposed to pick up my date in twenty minutes but couldn’t tear myself away from staring at her window. I was leaving in two months and should’ve been relieved I’d kept my gentleman’s vow. It wasn’t just physical. Dallas had a way of challenging me. Whether it was an argument about my time on the track—which she kept up with to the half second—or the definition of a blind spot when I taught her how to drive, she had a way of making me crazy and needing more of her at the same time. She was often successful in taunting the angry Spaniard in me. And more often than not, she brought out the best in me with how she regarded me.

I had come so close to kissing her on her sixteenth birthday.

I knew she felt it because the pull was so damn strong—it was undeniable. I had pulled away at the last second, and she’d almost called me on it.

Looking up at her window and without thinking, I grabbed my date’s corsage and walked to her door. Her dad answered with a smile and an arched brow.

“Dallas,” he called up the stairs, staring at me with amusement. She stopped at the top of the stairs, looking at me in confusion. I felt like a complete idiot. She slowly descended, looking between her dad and me for answers.

“Hi,” she squeaked. She had on a Dallas Cowboys fitted tee and shorts. “I think I may be underdressed.”

Her dad, Seth, gave me an inquisitive look before taking his leave. I silently thanked him.

Dallas led me onto the porch. “Dean, somewhere there is a girl in a prom dress waiting for you.”

“I know,” I fumbled out as she looked up at me for an explanation. Somehow, with nervous hands, I managed to take the solid white lily out of the corsage box.

“I wanted you to have this.” She shook her head, looking up at me.

“Why?”

“Because.”

Way with words, Martin.

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