Page 6 of Falling

She looks taken aback at my question, and her eyebrows shoot to her forehead. “What?”

“You got taken out to have a good night. If us silently standing here while we watch our friends have a good time is what you call fun, then excuse me, but I think we should give tonight a shot,” I explain. She surveys my features, probably to see if I’m being serious. I sigh, reiterating my point. “You gottaken out to have a good night, so you’re going to have a good night, Wren. I promise you.”

She scoffs. “Is this your thing? You just go around finding girls who are in need of a good time?” I tilt my head to the side playfully, and her eyes widen. “Wait. No. That didn’t come out the way it was supposed to.”

“Sure it didn’t,” I say, slinging one arm over her shoulder and pulling her to my side. My arm sizzles with the warmth of her skin, the proximity doing weird things to my insides. She smells good too—like fall and summer rolled into one. I point at our friends, who are now arguing over who should play in the game. “Let’s play against them and see who wins. Me and my friends against you and yours.”

“What’s the point? I’m going to win,” she says. So fucking bold and confident. If that isn’t a turn-on, I don’t know what is.

“You are, huh?”

“Yeah. I’ve been taking dance classes since I was four, and I’m a figure skater. It’s basically in my blood,” she explains. I look down at her, and she tilts her head up to mine.

“You skate?”

“Yeah, I’m on Darcy’s squad at NU.”

That catches my attention. “What do you study?”

“Literature and creative writing,” she says.

“Huh,” I murmur. I try to place a face on the girl I’ve seen skating around at the rink when I’m on my way to practice, but I can’t tell if it’s her or not. It makes sense. She’s built like a figure skater, snarky and confident in all the ways that I find stupidly attractive. “Well, I’m captain of the hockey team, so I’m a pretty good dancer.”

She laughs again, and I want to keep making her do that. “Those two things don’t relate to each other, like, at all.”

Her eyes sparkle, and I find myself saying, “Wanna make a bet?”

“That depends.”

“If you win, I’ll go to a dance class of your choosing. I’ll do pole dancing if you want, ballet, hip-hop. I don’t care. Anything you want and I’ll do it.” Her eyes widen with mischief at the mention of pole dancing. I can tell she’s imagining what that would look like, and her lips curve into a smile.

“And if you win?” she asks.

“I get to take you out on a date.”

She snorts again, and this time, making her laugh hurts a little. I know what everyone thinks the second I tell them I’m a hockey player. They think I walk around campus with a crown on my head, beckoning girls toward me like I have no soul. I usually let people think that. I let them make up their own judgments of me and don’t do anything to make them think otherwise. It’s better that way. But I don’t want Wren to think of me like that. For whatever reason, I want to impress her, and she doesn’t seem like the kind of girl that is impressed easily. I want her to see me for who I truly am, even when I’m losing sight of who that is.

“Why would I agree to that?” she asks breathlessly.

“Because you’re going to win, remember?” I wink at her, and she mumbles something before walking off to her friends.

I watch as she explains what's going on, and I do the same to my friends. Grayson and Harry are already talking about strategies, and I cast a glance over at Wren. She looks serious, like she really doesn’t want to lose. Like shereallydoesn’t want to go on this date with me. Her poker face is admirable, really. And downright adorable.

The space in the living room clears out, and Grayson, Harry, and I are up first. The three girls watch us like the Chippettes from theAlvin and the Chipmunksmovies, arms crossed against their chests as the music starts.

The game loads, and it’s all flashing lights and wild avatars dancing across the screen. We line up, our shadows flickering inthe colorful glow from the TV. The room around us cheers, a few phones already out, capturing the moment.

As the song starts, we jump into action. I try to mirror the frenzied movements of the dancers on the screen, swinging my arms and sliding my feet, slightly off-beat, but I’m too far in now to care. Harry is surprisingly good, nailing almost every move, and Grayson is all over the place, his long limbs a hilarious hazard as he spins and jumps.

When the song ends, we’re breathless, our scores pop up on the screen. Harry throws his hands up in victory, a wild cheer escaping him as he beats us by a narrow margin. Whoever wins out of the girls will have to go up against Harry, and he needs to take this victory home so I can take Wren out.

We step back, and the girls come onto the makeshift dance floor, fiddling with the screen. I’m catching my breath, folded over the couch, and Wren steps between my legs, looking down at me. “I thought this was your thing, Miles. Or are you really all talk and no play?”

I look up to see Wren with a playful smirk on her lips, her arms crossed as she watches me struggle for air. I can’t help but smile, the rush of the game still tingling in my veins. “Oh, it’s definitely my thing,” I reply, trying to muster some of my earlier confidence. “Just warming up, you know? We might have to do a few more rounds to reach peak performance.”

Wren laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Peak performance, huh? So, should I stick around for the grand finale or save myself the disappointment?”

I sit up straighter, waving to her to sit beside me. “Stick around. I promise you won’t be disappointed. I might even let you win a round to make it interesting.”

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