Page 46 of Falling

She scrolls through it, picking up her very annotated copy of the novel before typing something down. “I need to write down some last-minute notes and then I’m going to do a timed essay.”

“And you need me here for that, why?”

“So you can confiscate my devices. I’ll get too distracted if I have them in front of me. It’s what me and the girls usually do,” she explains.

“Do you really have that little self-control?”

“I have a lot more self-control than you do,” she argues. “I’m just gonna make these notes and then do the essay. You should go and explore while I write.”

“And risk getting death-stared by every person in here? No thanks,” I say, leaning back in my chair, crossing my arms. “I can just watch you study.”

Watching her study is slightly motivating me. I know I should have brought some of my own stuff with me to study for exams that aren’t for months, but I would have just got distracted anyway.

Have I mentioned how beautiful this woman is? How is she managing to read, write, and listen to a podcast all at once? I can’t figure it out for the life of me, but her dedication to studying as well as skating is one of the most attractive things I’ve ever seen.

I’ve been making paper boats with her spare paper for almost an hour. She’s written her essay and has moved on to making more notes, and I’mthisclose to dying of boredom. I tap her pen with the fluffy end next to the laptop as she types away.

“Wren. Wren. Wren. Wren,” I press, and I know it’s about to irritate the fuck out of her. “Wrenny, Wren, Wren.”

She stops typing, slamming the laptop shut. “What!?”

I smile wide, popping my dimple out and everything. “Hi.”

Her face almost breaks for a second, but she sticks her tongue in her cheek before opening her laptop again. She starts typing as she says, “Don’t do that.”

I bash my eyelashes at her innocently. “Do what?”

“Annoy me like a puppy.”

“Isn’t that what boyfriends are for?”

“Real boyfriends,” she clarifies. “Real boyfriends can annoy me. Real boyfriends carry my books for me. Real boyfriends take me shopping and buy me anything that I want. Real boyfriends fuck me in bathrooms just because they can. But you, Miles Davis, are my fake boyfriend.”

“We can change that.”

“No, we can’t.”

“We can. Just say the word and I’ll carry your books, spoil you with whatever money I have left, and fuck you into oblivion in every bathroom in the city,” I whisper. Her cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink, and I smile to myself. “Does that sound like something you’re interested in, Wren?”

She swallows, dropping her gaze back to her work. “Not at all.”

When Wrenfinally finishes her intense study session, she picks up all of her shit and we walk across to Florentino’s. It’s busy here, as always. If there is one good thing about NU besides hockey, it’s this café. We walk up to the counter, my arm around her shoulder, Wren’s books clutched to her chest, and I’m sure we look like every clichéd couple in a teen drama.

“What’s your usual order?” I ask when we join the line.

“It depends what the special is. Ken is always making something crazy back there,” she says, nodding to her best friend who is working frantically behind the counter. “Her mango smoothies are fantastic.”

“It’s freezing outside and you want a mango smoothie?”

“What would you suggest?”

“Deluxe hot chocolate, obviously,” I say. “It’s expensive, but it’s so fucking good.”

“That’s not the most expensive thing on the menu,” she whispers, shifting from one foot to the other as we move further down the line.

“Really? What is?”

“The caramel crunch cappuccino,” she concedes, avoiding eye contact with me.

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