Page 58 of Falling With a Spin

Emma

Spending Thanksgiving break with my Dad’s family was just what I needed to escape from the world. My dad and I cleared up a lot of emotions that we both have had for a while now. It was like coming up for air after being held under the currents for too long. To say that I’m nervous about this new journey between him and me would be an understatement. I’m terrified that it will all go back to how it once was.

But hearing him and Hunter talk the night before we left helped. I don’t know if my dad ever knew how much I tried for our relationship when I was younger. When he dropped us off at the airport, he promised to call me in a few days, and he kept it, too.

The plane ride home was bumpy, and with my fear of flying already, it only made it worse. So when we arrived at Hunter's house after landing, we both trudged up the stairs and immediately fell asleep.

After walking up and prying Hunter's arms from mine, I decided it was time to head home and see the disaster that Taylor made. When I walked into the apartment, Taylor was sprawled on the couch with a tub of ice cream and a blanket over her shoulder. When she looked over at me, her eyes were red and puffy. I didn’t need to ask her what was wrong. When a girl has a tub of ice cream and is watching sappy romantic movies it usually is because of a boy.

Now I sit in my calculus class, bored out of my mind and wishing there were a few extra Thanksgiving breaks. Professor Mikens is currently going over the aspects of some shit I won’t remember once I leave the classroom. I only showed up today because the makeup test will be handed out today, and I’m eager to see how I did.

“Alright, before you guys decide to run out that door. I have the makeup tests right here,” He holds up a stack of tests in his hands, waving them in the air.

I jump out of my seat, my bag flying behind me, getting to Professor Mikens' desk before any other students get out of their seats. He shakes his head laughing and hands me the first packet in the pile. I tuck it into my bag, making sure not to look at the grade until I’m with Hunter. He texted me this morning asking me to wait to find out what I got until we were together.

I rush out of the classroom, grab my phone, and pull up Hunter's contact. Hitting the call button as I open the doors to the quad and welcome the bite of cold that hits me. Going from the blazing heat of Arizona to the wind and coldness of Massachutes reminds me how much I truly love it here.

“Hey, I got my test back. Where do you want to meet?” I quickly ask, sprinting to my car with my keys in my hand, trying not to slip on any ice or snow.

“Oh well, good morning to you, too gorgeous,” His morning voice comes through the phone. All I want is to be with him as he rolls over, bringing me closer and leaving kisses down my neck, just like he did almost every morning at my Dad's.

“Oh yeah, hi, good morning. Now, where are we meeting? I really want to know my score.” Whining, I unlock my car and get it, turning the heat on right away.

His booming laugh brings a smile to my face. I can see the crinkles in his eyes and the dimples peeking out. “There is this new Diner not too far from the campus. I'm getting up right now. Meet you in fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, but hurry. If you aren’t there within fifteen minutes, I’m going to look at it and celebrate without you.” Smirking as I get into my car because we both know that I’m all bark and no bite.

“Mhm, whatever you say, Love. I will send you the address. See you soon.” He ends the call, and I pull up my playlist, pressing play on Long Live by Taylor Swift. He sends over the address, and I pull up Maps, plugging it in before backing out of the parking spot.

I pull into the parking lot of Old Sal's Diner: Burgers, Milkshakes, and More. The outside is a rustic green with red trimming, and neon sign flashes open on the door. If Hunter hadn’t told me this was new, I would have thought it had been here for decades. Walking in feels as if I traveled back to the sixties. There are red booths lining the walls with white tables that are dotted in black and white. Right when you walk in, there is high-top seating with red bar stools and rustic coin dispensers on top of the counter. I watch as a waitress rolls by me on skates, wearing a pink knee-length skirt with a white short-sleeved top.

I scan around the restaurant for Hunter and spot him at a booth next to the Jukebox already sipping on a chocolate milkshake. His head is down, working on something I can’t quite see from here. I walk over to him and slide into the booth quietly, picking up the menu.

“Hmm, I think I might get the Oreo milkshake,” I say, tapping my forefinger on my lips.

Hunter jumps in his seat, knocking over his milkshake spilling it all over the table and the papers he was working on. I instantly grab some napkins, wiping up the mess as a waitress comes by with some towels. I apologize profusely to her and Hunter as I pile more napkins onto the table.

Once everything is cleaned and Hunter gets a replacement drink, I put my order in and sit back against the booth. “I'm so sorry. I hope I didn’t ruin what you were working on?” I cover my face with my hands.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t very good anyways, and I was planning on tossing it out.” He grabs my wrist, bringing my hands away from my face. “You just beat me to it first.” He laughs, and I roll my eyes, pulling my hands away from him

“I still feel terrible. What was it that you were working on?”

“Oh, um, nothing really. Just a song for the guys and I to rehearse.” His cheeks turn red as he takes a sip from his drink.

“Oh, do you have anything that I can see?” I clap my hands together, my eyes going wide in excitement.

“I will show another time,” My bottom lip juts out in a pout, and he chuckles, “I promise. But what I do want to see right now is the score on your test.” He looks towards my bag where the test packet is tucked away.

He gets up and slides into my side of the booth, resting his elbow on the table. Giving me a smirk, he points to my bag. I roll my eyes and unzip it, carefully placing the packet on the table and looking over to Hunter.

“Alright, on three, we flip it,” I say, gripping the edge of the paper as his hand covers mine.

“1 ... .2 ... .3 flip.” We say in unison, flipping over the packet. I squeeze my eyes shut, too afraid to look.

“Open your eyes, Emma,” Hunter whispers in my ear, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

Opening my eyes, I see the number eighty-eight in red letters and a circle around it. Next to it is a note

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