Page 28 of Falling With a Spin

Wasn’t I totally wrong about that? And I'm wearing the proof.

“Thank you. It seems like you have the habit of saving me. I’m not your damsel in distress, you know?” I say, looking towards him as we walk out the door.

I don’t want him to think that I am one. I’m just clumsy and not always aware of my surroundings.

“You're welcome, and I know you aren’t. Sometimes, people need a little saving, and that's okay. This world is too big to conquer it all on your own.”

We approach Hunter’s car and it’s a gorgeous matte black Challenger with dark blue rims and tinted windows all around the car. I know some things about trucks and cars, but not a whole lot. I used to watch my dad work on cars or other projects in our backyard when I was younger. When I wasn’t in ballet or school, he would have me on a bar stool in the garage, and I would sit there for hours just watching him work. But that was seventeen years ago, before my siblings were born. Now, we barely talk. I don’t know who sits on the barstool now and watches him work on cars.

“Yeah, I guess,” mumbling. “But I'm not getting in your car. I don’t want to ruin it, and I’ll feel bad. It looks very expensive.” I ramble on. This happens when I get anxious. Justin and Garrett walk out of the building with my bookbag in their hand, giving it to Hunter. He opens the passenger door and places it on the floor before turning to me.

“Emma, I need you to calm down for five minutes.” He says, and takes out what looks like a towel. He holds it out for me to take and I look at it. Maybe if I don’t take it then he will leave me here and I can walk my happy ass home. “Do you need me to wipe you down or can you handle it yourself?”

Rolling my eyes, “Like I said I’m not your damsel in distress.” I take the towel from him and start to wipe everything that hasn’t dried yet. Laying down another towel on the seat, he looks at me and points to the passenger seat. Demanding much? I sigh and climb in. Hunter jogs around to the driver's side and hops in more gracefully than I ever could.

“Which apartments are you in?” He asks, starting the engine. It roars to life, and my body instantly warms from the heated seats. The vents on the dashboard blow warm air and a small smile forms on my lips.

“Orchard Ways, it's off of Harl Ave and Washington Street.” Leaning my head against the window and looking outside. The sky fills with shades of pink and purple as the sun starts to set. You can already glimpse the moon coming out as it says hello and goodbye to the sun.

When I was younger, I would look out the window in my room at my moms house and stare at the moon. I would wish every night for something that I’ve always wanted. Someone to love me as much as my father loves my siblings or a guy who wouldn't break my mom's heart after two years. Sadly, none of those came true, and I learned that the moon doesn’t grant you wishes. Life is what you choose it to be. With those ‘wishes’ I would grant, I now take them as life lessons to not make the mistakes that my parents did.

We drive in comfortable silence as we head for my apartment. It’s nice to be with someone and not have the pressure to have a conversation. You can just sit there and enjoy the company—even if you are covered in multiple drinks and look like a child threw up on you. His company is comforting.

I reach over, turning on the radio, We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together plays from the speakers. I hold in the giddiness that's building up in me. Taylor Swift has been my favorite artist ever since I was little. I start bouncing my leg and humming the words when I glance at Hunter and see a small smile on his lips. I immediately stop, feeling self-conscious.

The music continues, and memories flood my mind of when I would make up dance routines to these songs that no one would see. There’s an empty space in my heart from where my love of dancing used to be. I still love it, but I love doing it more. It’s this wonderful, beautiful, breathtaking creation that you can do that leaves you feeling like you can do anything in the world when you are in that moment. Then life comes and takes it right from underneath you, and you're left with an emptiness. A void. A yearning for it back.

“I lied to you,” Hunter breaks the silence and keeps his eyes on the road, “when I said I didn’t know you worked there. Garrett is friends with your roommate, Taylor?” He looks over at me, and I nod my head. Laughter bubbles from me when he uses the word friend loosely.

“He mentioned that morning that you know Taylor, but I saw you walking in there earlier today after you stormed off. I wanted to walk in and talk to you, but I couldn’t figure out what to say. Then the three of us were walking down the street, and I saw the sign for the coffee shop. It felt as if there was this invisible string that was pulling me towards you.” He finishes, eyes not leaving the road.

“What was your reason for needing to talk to me?” I question him. I lower the music, turning to face him, my eyebrows drawing in.

“When we ran into each other, I saw your paper from Professor Mikens's class.” He replies.

“Okay, what about it?” I ask.

“ How would you like it if I tutored you? I know you don’t know me, and we just met, but I’ve taken his class before and gotten an A,” he offers, knuckles going white from his grip on the wheel. I just stare at him, not knowing what to say.

Then it dawns on me.

“You have to be fucking kidding me?” I groan.

He whips his head towards me in shock. I rummage through my bag, yanking out the list of tutors, and look at the top name. “Is your last name Beckett?” I squint my eyes at him as if I can see his name pop up above his head.

“Yes?” He gulps, looking nervous.

“Your name is at the top of the list Professor Mikens gave me to find a tutor.” I wave the paper in the air as a humorless laugh leaves me. Out of all the things that can happen to me today, this would be the last. The guy who punched my ex-boyfriend in the face happens to also live in the house that I woke up in a few weeks ago and is also the person I was going to have to tutor me!

How much more of this can get fucked up?

“Yeah, I'm a favorite of his.” He sheepishly says and rubs the back of his neck.

I grunt in response and look out the window for the rest of the drive.

We pull into a parking spot in front of my apartment building, and I sit there staring out the front windshield, not moving. My mind keeps going back to the coffee shop when he didn’t care that his drink was all over me or how earlier, he punched Chad in the nose for talking to me the way he always had. I suck in a breath and feel the tears falling before I can blink them away. I quickly wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand in hopes that he doesn’t see me crying and bend down to grab my bag before opening the door.

“Thank you for the ride home.” It comes out in a whisper, and I close the door, making my way to the front doors.

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