Page 104 of Falling

I go into one of the large bathrooms to get ready. I’m lucky I packed a nice outfit in case something like this were to happen. Okay, nice might be stretching it, but it’s decent.

I try to brush out my hair, but it looks wild. I’ve never known how to deal with my curly hair, so it just does its own thing. I put on a white button-down and black pants, rolling my sleeves up my forearms.

I wait in the kitchen area for her to finish getting ready because, as always, she takes hours. I stick my head into the fridge to find something, but there are only tiny bottles of tequila, so I close it.

“Ready to go?”

I turn, and the wind is knocked out of me. Literally. I think I’ve died and come back to life.

Wren is dressed in a silky black evening gown with tiny straps. She holds a silver purse in her right hand, which matches her stilettos and earrings. Her hair is slicked behind her ear as it falls onto her back.

She walks toward me, and I can’t take my eyes off her.

“You look beautiful,” I whisper. She blinks up at me, and I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her into me as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. My hands feel so at home on her body. As if they just belong.

“You look really good,” she murmurs, trailing her palms up my chest before wrapping them around my neck.

“You’re not lying to me, are you?”

“Unfortunately not.”

Watching her try to fight herself just makes me want her even more. She takes in my outfit, her eyes roaming all over me. God, I could sit down and let her look at me all day. I’d let her use me for whatever she wants if I could have her eyes on me.

I got us a table at the hotel we’re staying at, so we only have to walk down past the lobby. I hold her hand even though we don’t have to pretend out here.

“What are you doing?” she asks, looking at our linked hands and then at me.

“I just want to hold your hand,” I admit, squeezing hers in mine. “That a problem?”

“No,” she says quietly and doesn’t bring it up again.

The restaurant is built to hover just over the LED pool with a cozy cabin vibe. Our seats are on the patio outside, giving us a perfect view of the live band that plays smooth blues music. People gather around them, glasses in their hands as they sway to the music under the sunset.

When we sit down, we both order steak with fries and a cherry blossom lemonade. I’m starting to think that my bad eating habits have rubbed off on her. We go through the never-ending list of questions to ask each other as we eat. It’s been a whilesince we’ve done them, and they’re my favorite part about our relationship.

“Okay,” she says, popping a fry into her mouth before scrolling through my phone. “These are pretty personal. Is that okay?”

“Sure.” I grin at her, but she frowns a little as she locks my phone and slides it over to me.

“What’s one thing you would change about your family if you could?” She bites her bottom lip as if she’s regretting asking the question.

“I wish my family were more upfront with each other. Instead of being too scared to say things, you know? It’d be a lot easier than whatever it is we’re pretending to do now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve always been a pretty dramatic kid. I would get really attached to things and people, and I wasn’t afraid to express that, but my family has always been weird about it. My dad ignores things that he can move on from, my mom pretends like they don’t exist, and Clara is good at mediating the tension and making everything seem okay when it’s not. I don’t know, I think they just feel better hiding things,” I admit.

As I say it out loud, my stomach twists as if I’ve just finished binging shitty food. I hate how uncomfortable it makes me. I hate that whenever I talk about them, I can feel my chest tightening. That's why at the Christmas dinner, I kept quiet.

Even when my dad and I were alone, we stuck to talking about sports and boring things instead of what we were really thinking. I knew that if I tried to say anything, I’d ruin the night. Or they’d back me up into a corner and tell me to calm down. That I was overreacting.

“I think they just find it easier to ignore problems. They’ve been treading on eggshells around me since I found out about Mom and since Carter died,” I admit, and she keeps listening to me. “You know how much I talk. I can’t move on easily, and I can’t just ignore things that are clearly there. I know my parents love each other, but sometimes, that doesn't feel like enough. They're nothappy.It's worse to be unhappy with somebody and still stay with them.”

“I’m sorry,” Wren says quietly. I shrug, smiling. “But you know you can always talk to me, right? Even if it’s utter nonsense. I like hearing you talk.”

“You do know I’m going to use this against you in the future. You can’t ever tell me to shut up again,” I joke. She smiles wide. “What about you?”

“I wish there was less pressure to be perfect all the fucking time,” she says immediately. She tries to laugh, but the noise doesn’t come out properly as she fiddles with her fork. “Austin’s pregnant, and she told me to tell my mom for her.”

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