Page 9 of Falling

I look over to a red-faced Scarlett, her expression lying somewhere between a blush and pure anger. “You’re getting us off topic,” Scarlett hisses at Ken. She turns back to me, smiling. “Anyway, he’s a hockey player, so I’m sure he’s just doing his playboy ritual.”

“Really?” I ask, the surprise coming off way too strong. “That’s hard to believe.”

“What are you talking about?” Scarlett asks.

“I dunno,” I mumble, “He didn’t give off dickish energy. Just sad, brooding, miserable energy when he wasn’t trying to flirt with me.”

“Oh, that’s hot,” Kennedy says, nodding.

“Not really.” Scarlett grimaces. “He was the nicest of Jake’sfriends, I’ll give him that. Since Carter passed away, I think the whole team has been on edge, so that checks out.”

Kennedy nods again, and I feel totally out of the loop. Have I really had my head so far up Darcy’s and Augustus’s asses that I don’t know the basic social standings of people in my school?

“How do you know about these things, and I don’t?” I ask them.

Scarlett rolls her eyes. “Because you refuse to gossip about people who don’t concern you.”

“Right, and that’s a bad thing, how?”

“Because now you don’t know about one of the most important things that happened last semester,” Kennedy adds in, stuffing her face with Cheerios that somehow materialized in her lap.

“I know about Carter,” I argue, my throat burning at the thought. I didn’t know him, or anyone on the hockey team for that matter, but what happened was terrible. I didn’t have to know him for it to hurt when we were told what happened. He sounded like a nice guy and was way too young to die. “I just didn’t know he was friends with Miles.”

“Best friends,” Kennedy says through a mouthful, nodding at me.

“Right. Well, I didn’t know they werebest friends.It’s not like he was going to bring that up to me at the party. All we talked about was how he got benched and how I had some bad news from my mom,” I say. They both hum in agreement. “I feel shitty for not knowing, but it wasn’t my utmost concern last semester.”

“I guess you were too busy with Gus-related things,” Scarlett says.

I groan. “Can we not? Just thinking about him gives me the creeps. I can’t believe I stayed with him for that long.”

“I can’t believe you stayed with him, period. He was awalking red flag when he tried convincing you to cut us off so he could have you all to himself,” she adds.

I sigh, feeling the regret rot in my stomach. “Well, sixteen-year-old me didn’t know that.”

“Neither did eighteen-year-old you,” Kennedy mutters. I throw a cushion at her, and as she throws it back to me, my phone pings from beside me.

Miles and I have texted a few times since the party. It was fine at first when we were trying to get to know each other, but now, I never know what to say. He just sends me random memes and songs he’s listening to. It’s usually something stupid and related to whatever TV show he’s watching. The other morning, he sent me a link to “The Only Exception” by Paramore and captioned it,I feel like an indie pop princess in a coming-of-age movie for teenagers on Netflix. Send help.I asked why I needed to know that, and he just said that I did. There was no argument, and we fell into some weird rhythm of sending each other songs and how they make us feel.

There’s a weird comfort in the randomness of our chats. It’s like we’re both tossing bits of our day at each other, seeing what sticks. It doesn’t feel like much, but there’s something about these snippets that makes me look forward to a text from him. I only ever text Scarlett, Kennedy, or Gigi, so having a new contact in my phone feels like a win.

This time, there’s no text, and it’s just a video. I shake my head before it even starts playing. Miles backs away from the camera, and I notice the room that he’s in looks like a dance studio with three poles in the middle. A few older women are in the background, cheering him on beforeNeeded Meby Rihanna starts playing in the speakers.

No.

No.

I watch Miles back up to the center pole, a determined look crossing his face. He’s wearing the most ridiculous neon-pinkgym shorts and a tank top that says “Pole Legend in Training.” The bass drops, and he starts his routine, a series of awkward shimmies and hesitant spins that have me desperately gasping for air. His hands clutch at the pole, his feet trying to find rhythm where there’s none.

The older ladies in the background are clapping and hooting—clearly the cheer squad he never knew he needed. As the song hits the chorus, Miles attempts to hoist himself up the pole. His efforts are more comical than sexy, his face scrunching up as he focuses. Then, with a grunt, he manages to lift himself off the ground for a brief, glorious second before sliding down with a thump that probably didn’t feel as funny as it looked.

The camera shakes a bit—probably because the person filming is laughing too. Miles looks directly at it, blows a kiss with a huge grin, and says, “For you, Wrenny girl. Bet I’ve got your attention now.”

I’m laughing so hard that tears are streaming down my face. This video, this ridiculous, endearing effort just to make me laugh—it’s the stupidest thing I’ve seen all day. It’s not just funny, it’s weirdly endearing. And as I wipe the tears from my eyes, I ignore the looks Scarlett and Kennedy are giving me and type out a message to him.

What the fuck is this?????

I’m CRYING.

---