Page 98 of Falling

“Oh my god, Miles, have you told Wren about Felicity?” Clara asks when we’re eating dessert. Their parents have gone into the kitchen, leaving us to talk in the dining room.

I’ve never felt fuller of laughter, food, and everything good about this place. Miles might not see it, but this place is clearly filled with so much love. I’d kill to spend time with a family that makes inappropriate jokes and eats too much dessert to then sit by a fire and recall stories from our childhood. If I ever get the opportunity to be a mom one day, this is exactly what I’d want.

My mind instantly drifts to Austin, who is probably going to kill me for not telling my mom about her pregnancy, but this is my life too. I shouldn’t have to carry that burden just because she’s too chicken-shit to do it herself.

“Clar, don’t,” Miles replies, shaking his head with a blush. I’venever seen his face go so red before, and it’s downright adorable.

“Who is Felicity?” I say, dropping my head into my hands to look at Clara. She takes a long swig of her wine before speaking.

“She was Miles’s first crush. He was probably around five or six, and there was this girl in kindergarten who he thought was cute. So he came to me, asking for my help. And as the hopeless romantic tween I was, I suggested that he write a song for her.” She gestures to him to continue the story, and he’s still shaking his head with laughter.

“Long story short, I sang her the song at recess, and she started crying.Notout of happiness,” he admits, shoving his face into his hand.

“Oh my god, is this where your love for music came from?” I ask, my eyes wide, and he shakes his head again, chuckling. “I must hear this song immediately.”

I look over to Clara, who is smiling wide, but Miles’s expression is serious. I nudge him with my knee, and his face cracks like sunlight bursting through the blinds. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sight more beautiful.

Felicity, will you be with me? Felicity, do you like cream cheese? Felicity, your eyes are so green and so pretty, he sings at the top of his lungs in the most operatic tone possible.

I start hysterically laughing, tears springing to my eyes. I’ve always known he was a bad singer, but Jesus he’sterrible. That poor girl who had to hear this at recess probably still has nightmares about it. He takes a deep breath as if he’s about to continue.

“No, please stop,” I scream, covering his mouth with my hand. An evil smile spreads across his face as he nips my hand with his teeth. I swear it feels like I'm dating an untrained puppy. I pull my hand away, shaking it out as I glare at him.

“I think he’s learned a few moves since then if he’s managed to getyouto date him,” Clara comments, tipping her glass towardme. I look up at him, and he’s already looking at me. I hide the smile on my face by snuggling deeper into his side; the perfect day washes over me like wine. “Do you want to know what he said when he first told me about you?”

“I’m genuinely frightened to find out,” I say.

I feel his warm hand slowly move from his thigh to mine, just beneath my dress. He squeezes it gently before leaving his hand there. It’s comforting, and I’mjusttipsy enough to let him do it.

“He mentioned you for the first time, and I had no idea who you were. Then he said that you weren’t just his girlfriend, but you wereeverything.”

I can feel my heart racing as soon as the words leave her mouth.Everything. Why does everything he pretends to say make my heart swell? I can feel the tears prickling at my eyes, but I blink them back and turn to him.

“You said that?” I ask.

“I did,” he murmurs. Again, it’s so simple and not up for debate that I don’t say anything because for the second time tonight, he’s practically rendered me speechless.

31

WREN

“A WOMAN’S PLEASURE SHOULD NOT BE AN EMBARRASSING TOPIC.”

Decidingto host Friendsmas is probably the best decision I’ve made all year. When we lived with our parents, we always spent Christmas day together. After spending the morning with our family opening presents, we'd all go over to Gigi’s house and eat as much shit as we could.

The holidays have been hard for Ken because her mom and sister still live in South Carolina while we’re here in Utah. It’s too expensive for her to fly out and too far for her to drive, so last Christmas, it was just us three, and it was perfect.

I always call my parents on Christmas Day, but to Mom, it’s seen as a day off work more than anything special. I had a long call with my dad, wishing me and my girls a Merry Christmas, as well as sending me a new pair of skates and some money. My mom's “Merry Christmas” came in the form of a three-foot bouquet with an impersonal Christmas card.

We decided to do Secret Santa, which wasn’t very secret since there’s only three of us. We sit down on the living room floor in our Christmas pajamas, which we intend on wearing all day, each with a present in front of us. It’s a stupid tradition, but we’re all terrible at giving each other gifts. Scarlett spoils us too much on our birthdays with the casual fact that she’s a millionaire, and we didn’t think it was fair, so now we give each other one gift each that we know we’ll like. I honestly wouldn’t need anything from them. Being surrounded by their energy is more than enough for me.

“I wonder who had me,” Kennedy mutters with an eye roll, shaking the box in front of her. I look over at Scarlett, who is beaming. She opens the box and pulls out two hardback books. “Oh my god! Shut the fuck up. Who had me?”

“Doesn’t that take away the whole purpose of Secret Santa?” I ask.

“Okay, so it wasn’t you, you grinch,” Kennedy says, giving me an evil side eye before turning to Scarlett. “How did you get these?”

She holds up two special editions, signed copies of her favorite author Jasmine James’s new novel, which she has been obsessed with all year. They’ve been sold out everywhere, but somehow, she managed to snag two.

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