Page 15 of Until We Fall

“What?” Ialwayswant to hear what he thinks.

“You should do whatever you want. Your family will be proud of you.” His eyelids slip closed. “And I will be, too.”

Jesus, that hits me hard.

I don’t even know how to respond. Rory always sees the best in me. He never sees the guy who struggles to put things in order. Who has to work his ass off for C’s in school. Who has to find workarounds for things that seem to come so easily for others.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“No problem,” he says with a smile, voice groggy.

“I’m excited to spend time with you,” I say. “Before we graduate.”

“Me too,” he mumbles.

My heart thuds. And that tickle lights in my stomach. It’s butterflies. And the weight of our friendship, of the time we’ve spent together over the past three and a half years. Studying and talking and being there for each other. How that’s going away soon.

I’d thought it was the docking that woke me to all these possibilities, a kernel of hope that maybe he could return even an eighth of the feelings I have for him. But maybe it’s not just that. Maybe it’s also this countdown. It’s losing something that I don’t want to lose.

Our friendship. Even if there’s never a possibility for anything else, I don’t know if I want to be three thousand miles away from our friendship.

Rory sighs faintly, sweetly, sleepily. So prettily that it creates a pinch in my chest.

For better or worse, I open my mouth. “Do you remember, Rory? That night, I mean. When we were on my bed it felt like something happened between us. Was that something? Could it be?”

And if so, why has it taken three and a half years before we’ve gotten here? A few months before we’re supposed to move? That doesn’t seem fair.

But there’s no answer. He’s drifted off to sleep.

5

“D, you’re squishing me.”Rory’s voice is close, and I blink my eyes open, trying to sort out where I am.

Shit, I’m splayed over him. My chest halfway covering his, my thigh between his legs, my nose nestled in the crook of his neck.

Iamsquashing him. He attempts to take in breaths, my weight too much.

“Fuck, sorry.” I prop up on one arm, my knee coming to rest between his thighs. I’m hovering over him, trying to adjust to reality.

His hair is red against the pillow, his gray eyes looking up at me. They widen as I stare down at him—he seemsreallyalert. I’m not there yet, still in a haze of whatever I was dreaming about. But, holy Toledo, I’m prickling awake everywhere now.

A breeze drifts through the sliding door I forgot to close, cooling across my chest and playing with the strings on my sleep pants. They’re dangling down, brushing on the stomach of his tee.

He shivers. Maybe from the breeze? His gaze darts down me, then his lips part, his breath stopping.

I follow his view.

Ohh fuck. Really?

I’m seriously tenting my pants.

Likeveryobviously. My dick’s pushing over the elastic, my head jammed against the fabric so firmly that the outline is clear. There’s even a spot of pre-cum soaking through.

Jesus.

I crawl off him, gritting my teeth as my dick brushes lightly against his hip. I push my ass back, trying to keep the distance, and settle on my back, scrubbing a hand over my face. I stare up at the ceiling.

What the fuck did I donow?

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