Page 37 of Falling

I take my hand out of hers and slip it around her waist, pulling her into me as we go into the kitchen. “Are you okay?” I whisper-shout in her ear.

“I’ve been better,” she mutters, smiling tight. “Is it always this loud and obnoxious?”

I raise an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

“It’s like I’m inside of a really bad Netflix show about high school and someone is going to spill beer on me.” She shivers at the thought, and I laugh.

“Just relax. I’ve got you, okay?”

“Just relax,” she says, scoffing and shaking her head.

I pull her further into me, kissing her on the forehead as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. She blinks up at me. Shit. Should I not have done that? Is it too soon? We’re supposed to look affectionate, but was anyone even watching for me to have done that?

Someone taps me on my shoulder, and I turn around to a cherry-faced Harry. He’s soaked head to toe, most likely just coming out of the pool. Knowing him, it was either a dare or someone pushed him in. Harry’s not the type of person to willingly get into a pool that hundreds of people have already been in. He’s pretty quiet and reserved, which is why I like him and think he’s a good addition to the team.

“Hey, Miles,” he says before registering Wren next to me. “Wren, right?”

“Yep,” she says, popping the “p.” She’s either nervous or she just doesn’t like me very much because that’s the sweetest I’ve ever heard her sound in my presence.

“This is Harry. You remember him from the party, right? He’s the one who kicked your ass at Just Dance,” I say, gesturing toward him and Wren. They exchange a playful look and I continue my introduction. “He’s the goalie and arguably one of the best players on our team. He talks a lot of shit, so don’t believe everything he says.”

“I don’t talk shit,” he mumbles, sounding as adorable as ever in his Australian accent. Wren marvels at him like he’s the most charming guy in the room. He leans forward, hikes a thumb in my direction, and whispers to Wren, “If you ever want to know any stories about him, just let me know.”

“I will take you up on that,” she whispers.

“I’m right here, you know,” I interject, but they continue talking like they’re old friends and I don’t exist.

“I’ve learned a few things about him myself,” Wren says, a smug smirk on her lips as she lifts her head higher.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” Harry asks, throwing me a look. I don’t stop her. I’m glad she’s trying to talk to my friends after putting up such a fight about wanting to come here.

“He’s got an awful singing voice,” she says, her gaze drifting from Harry to me and then back to him. I can’t hide the grin that’s spreading across my face. If taking jabs at me is what makes her comfortable, I'll let her call me every name under the sun.

“Does he? I didn’t know that,” Harry replies, clearly amused. “You’ve got to sing the national anthem at the next game, Davis.”

“That’s not going to happen.” I laugh.

“Oh, but it should.” Wren beams. “Have you heard how terrible his music taste is? It’s like dating a?—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” I say, cutting her off with a laugh. Harry’s eyes are wide with curiosity, dying to hear what she has to say. “We’re going to go see what’s over there.”

“I didn’t even get to the best part. The other day?—”

I put my hand over her mouth on instinct, and it almost covers her entire face as I slowly walk her backward out of the kitchen. I turn back to Harry, and he shrugs happily before walking off. Her eyes widen with alarm before softening and staring into mine as we continue sidestepping through the hallway.

I can feel her breathing quicken beneath my hand as her green-blue eyes pinch together as she looks down at my hand on her mouth. I drop my hand and shove it into my pocket. Her mouth opens and closes as she searches my face, her eyebrows still scrunched together in the cutest way.

I know she’s wondering whatever that just was, but I don’t know either. Being affectionate with her—whatever that means—is a lot easier than I thought it would be. Everything feels instinctual and natural, and I don’t have to second guess myself when I’m with her.

She opens her mouth again, but before she can speak, Grayson wanders into the hallway, swaying slightly.

“Miles. Is this your girlfriend? The one you tried hiding from us.”

He gestures his cup toward us, his beer almost sloshing over the edge. The change from being around Harry to Gray is so obvious on her face. I remember what she said about being around drunk people, so I pull her into me, nodding at him.

“The one and only,” I say, and he chuckles with a hiccup.

“I’m Grayson, but you can call me Gray.”

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