Page 11 of Falling

“Is he your new best friend? Are you going to make matching friendship bracelets and replace us?” Kennedy asks, sulking.

“What?”

“I haven’t seen you smile that hard inmonths, Wrenny baby. Honestly, it was kinda terrifying,” she mumbles.

“That’s not true,” I say, knowing it is.

After the breakup, things got hard. It was difficult to do all the things I used to love, and Scar and Ken were constantly watching over me like helicopter parents. If your ex-boyfriend and skating partner dropped you on the ice and ruined your reputation, you would swear off men too. I just didn’t expect to fall into one of the worst depressions of my life. Doing mundanetasks became hard, and shutting myself off from the world to keep my heart safe felt like the best option.

It wasn’t my finest moment, and I’ve slowly been making my way out of the fog.Veryslowly. Focusing solely on my performance and my classes has given me an excuse to ignore my non-existent sex life, but with the added stress of trying to work a way around the new bump in the road on the team, I know I’m going to need some sort of fun in my life.

“Whatever,” Scarlett says, waving her hand at us. “Can we circle back to Stolen Kingdom? I need my Carmen and Marcus fix immediately.”

Since I started writing this series, we've established a ritual: Every new chapter I finish, I perform a live reading for Kennedy and Scarlett. It's like our own exclusive book club, keeping me motivated to write and leaving them on edge for what's next. Initially, reading aloud felt a little awkward, but they love how I bring the characters to life, and it helps me spot any gaps in the narrative.

Tonight, we sprawl on the living room floor, blankets beneath us, forming our cozy little circle, movie forgotten. Kennedy flops her head onto my lap, her curly hair a ticklish contrast against my skin. Scarlett faces us, chin cradled in her hands, eyes eager for the story to continue. I open my laptop and dive into the world we're all hooked on.

When I get another text from Miles reminding me to be ready on time, I swipe it away from the screen. Not before Kennedy looks up at me with a knowing grin. I don’t know how I’m going to convince them that he’s not been all I’ve thought about since the party. I also don’t know how I’m going to manage to sit through an entire date when I have no idea how to act on a first date. The old Wren would have run off and said “fuck no” to this idea, but the new Wren is moving closer and closer to saying yes to everything. Even the things that scare me the most.

5

MILES

FIRST DATE JITTERS

I runmy sweaty palms down the front of my jeans for what must be the tenth time as I stand awkwardly outside the door of her apartment.

I thought taking the stairs would help me work off the nervous energy that is working its way through my veins, but it didn’t. If anything, it just intensified the fact that I have no clue what I’m doing. The liquid courage at the party no longer exists, and now I have to somehow charm her with my dazzling personality. “Dazzling” is not how anyone would describe it, but it’s something.

I doubt Wren even wants to spend any extra time with me after the countless times I’ve texted her, but she gives me something else to focus on. If I’m not staring into the abyss and wondering how I’m going to get back on the team, I’m texting her. It’s been months since I’ve had to try to convince a girl to give me the time of day, and I’m a competitive motherfucker. She might not realize it now, but I can tell she’ll warm up to me at some point.

I knock twice before the door swings open. I barely get to look at Wren’s face before she ushers me in and rushes aroundher huge apartment. “Sorry. I just got back from the gym, and I’m still getting my life together. I’ll be two minutes,” she shouts, walking down a corridor.

“Okay,” I say even though I don't feel it. I step into her kitchen. “I’ll just stand awkwardly in your kitchen and pretend this isn’t the first time I've been here.”

“So, you’re not just a pretty face? I knew you’d get the hang of it,” she shouts back.

“All I heard was that you think I’m pretty,” I say, and I hear her snort.

I do exactly that and stand awkwardly in her kitchen. She’s mentioned that she lives with her two best friends, but I don’t see or hear them anywhere. The kitchen is as clean as I would expect. The granite countertops are glistening like they’ve never been used before. Some of the cupboards are made with glass doors, and funky-looking body-part-shaped glasses stand on the shelves.

The fridge is full of pictures of Wren and her friends, most of them in different countries. I trace my finger over one of them that catches my attention. Wren’s face is red as she hangs over the toilet seat, her curly-haired friend Kennedy sitting next to her with her hand on her back and Scarlett holding the camera up to take the photo with the three of them in it.

“That was in Barcelona,” Wren says, standing on the opposite side of the island. My breath catches in my throat when I take her in. She’s wearing a thin cami top, a cardigan, and low-rise jeans. Her blonde hair is tied back into a loose ponytail, and her bangs curl in front of her face. “It was last summer. I think that was the last time I drank alcohol.”

“You were drinking water at the party,” I point out. She nods. “Is there a story behind this that has led to your sobriety?”

“Is there a story behind your mild alcoholism?” she challenges, crossing her arms against her chest.

“Touché,” I say, holding a hand to my heart as if her wordshurt. She rolls her eyes, trying to avoid my gaze as we both just look at each other. I haven’t seen her in person since the party, and though texting has been fun, I’ve been dying to see her again. “You look good.”

Her smile widens. “Thanks. So do you.” I’m wearing baggy jeans and a shirt. It’s really nothing special. But with the way she’s clearly eye fucking me, I feel like a million bucks. “Now, can we get on with this date and never see each other again?”

I tut as she walks around to meet me by the door. “I really don’t think that’s going to happen, princess. You’ll be dying to see me again.”

“If you keep calling me that, I don’t think we’ll make it out this door,” she mumbles, but she’s taking smaller and smaller steps toward me and the door.

“I’m taking you on your dream date and giving you free food. You can at leastpretendto be happy about it,” I argue, opening her door. She looks around her apartment for the last time, double-checking her bag before she gives me a cheesy grin. More like she’s baring all of her teeth to me like I’m her dentist and I’m deciding which ones I should pull out.

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