Page 77 of Falling

“Oh, Miles, fuck. Let me pull over,” she says, checking her mirrors before pulling off to the side of the road. She opens her car door, and my eyes widen. Is she crazy? She rounds the car, opens the passenger side, and almost knocks me out when she wraps her arms around me. “You looked like you needed a hug. You told me once that I give the best hugs.”

“I was five,” I grumble, melting into her embrace.

“It still stands,” she whispers. “Please tell me you’ve been talking to someone about this and you’ve not been keeping it inside.”

“The team has a counselor we speak to once a week, but other than that, it’s just Wren,” I admit. Even she doesn’t know the extent of my pain because I can’t even put it into words, and I shut down each time I say his name out loud. I’ve never felt more helpless than I did when I broke down at the rink, but just being around her makes me feel less alone.

Clara pulls from me, smiling wide. “I’m guessing Wren is the girlfriend.”

I nod. “She is, but she’s…” I trail off, laughing at myself. How could I even begin to describe her? How could I possibly explain that she’s taken over every single thought in my brain since the moment I met her? That she’s the only thing I can think about sometimes, her stubbornness and all. “God, Clara. She’s everything.”

Clara grins. “Wow. We really do have a lot to catch up on.”

24

WREN

CRUSHES ARE GROSS

My momonce told me that boys are like the wind: some will push you forward, like a strong gust that helps you skate faster and better, but most are just breezes that distract you from your path. After my breakup, she reminded me how my ex helped me focus on my figure skating, and she warned me not to let other boys blow me off course. “Stay true to your goals,” she said, “and the right wind will support you when you need it most.”

I kind of thought that every boy would be either of those things, but I can’t seem to fit Miles into those categories because he does both. He pushes me and encourages me in all the best ways, yet he distracts me. But a huge part of me thinks I need to be distracted sometimes. A little bit of fun wouldn’t kill me, and he reminds me of that way more often than I’d like.

After a long day practicing and trying to get Miles out of my head, I’m sitting with the girls in the living room while they ask me more and more ridiculous questions. I’ve been dodging most of them as I lie down with ice packs on my sore knees.

“Sooo, what was it like?” Kennedy asks with a huge smile.

“What was what like?” I sit up further on the couchso I can see them both properly. Kennedy is sitting in the beanbag, and Scarlett is on the floor, lying on her back.

“The kiss. You can’t just be like ‘yeah me and Miles made out for real’ and ignore it,” Kennedy explains. I made the stupid mistake of telling them that we made out but left out the fact that he finger fucked me until I forgot my name.

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do. If I think about it too much, I’ll do it again, and this whole thing will be over. I can’t do that. Not so close to the show and during hockey season,” I say, turning over my ice packs before resting my head back on the headrest.

“Fine, don’t tell us. But, judging by the look on your face, it was better than the kisses you write about in Stolen Kingdom,” Kennedy says, looking at me innocently. I don’t have the energy to argue with that. It’s true. It was probably the best kiss of my life, hickeys and all.

“It was an above-average kiss,” I admit.

“Above average how?” Scarlett asks. “Like a little touchy?”

“Or like close to fucking?” Kennedy suggests.

I sigh, closing my eyes for a second before opening them. “The second one.”

They both burst into hysterical screams, clapping their hands as if this is the best news they’ve heard in their lives.

“You fooled around with him, didn’t you?” Scarlett asks, but it doesn’t sound much like a question. Sometimes, I think she should be a detective instead of a fashion major.

“Maybe,” I murmur, and they both gasp. “But it wasn’t like that. He was sweet and kind, and we fell sleep afterward.”

They both blink at me, not saying anything. I know how they work. I know they’re thinking of every way they can make fun of me until they’re satisfied.

“Oh my god,” Kennedy mutters.

“What?”

“You like him,” Scarlett answers for her.

I scoff, but my heart betrays me by skipping a beat. “No, I don’t.”

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