Page 80 of Break Your Fall

“That’s your problem.” He takes a swallow of beer. “You, and Ted, and that other couple in our group.”

I follow his drink with one of my own at the subtle mention of Julian and Camille, a small smile forming around the swallow at the way he spit outother couple.

“Yeah,” Banks draws out. “I get it. You’re my kryptonite and I’m nothing but your knight in shining cotton.”

I spit my sip. “I amnotyour kryptonite,” I declare with a laugh. “You’ll find her,” I add, mostly from not wanting that responsibility on my shoulders.

“I don’t wanna find her,” Banks argues before diving into the most passionate rant I’ve ever heard him say. “Again, that’s your problem. We’re too young for that shit. We should be enjoying ourselves. Exploring while we can. Living it up before we’re too old to move.Thenwe can get serious.”

“Because we can’t move anymore,” I contribute.

Banks beams at my faux understanding. “Exactly.”

“You can enjoy yourself in a serious relationship, you know.” I point my bottle at him and he clinks his against it. “Don’t be mad that we’ve found the person we wanna be with.” I’m trying to tease, but it all falls from my face when I realize what I’ve said, and Banks’s eyes lock with mine in knowing.

“Yeah,” he draws out again, sadder this time. “Tommy.” He nods and chugs the last of his beer, releasing anAhhhh, as I look out at the waves crashing to the shore in time with my heart as it crashes against my ribcage.

“You know,” Banks says now in his Banks tone, pulling me back in, and I’m thankful for the rescue. “I’ve never had a dudette before. That’s you,” he clarifies to the smile now on my face.

“I’ll take it.”

He smiles back as sand shuffles behind us from approaching feet, then hollers up, “It’s about time.”

I follow his stare to find Julian looking down at us, and as soon as my eyes meet his, I look back at the ocean and chug the rest of my beer.

“Yeah, I kinda set this up,” Banks tells me as he stands and hurries off, calling back, “You guys make up.”

Julian chuckles after him, then takes his spot next to me. “He doesn’t get it.”

“And yet, you’re here,” I say, waving my bottle, wishing it was still full.

I look at him, study his profile as he stares out at the waves, his jaw set and his eyes moving in thought. As I watch him, I’m almost comforted by the thoughts I’mnothaving. I’m not thinking of us as a past couple. I’m not feeling his hands or his mouth or his whispers against my skin. The echoes have changed, washed away by a new tide, leaving behind only the memories of a lost friend in the recede.

And I’m now the other girl. The one who has the boy’s heart. The one who can’t be replaced by somebody else.

Finally, Julian sighs. “I never wanted you to hate me. But, sometimes, I think you’re better off without me.”

I drop my empty bottle to the sand. “Then you don’t know me anymore.”

“I just don’t know what to do, Reyna.” That loss and frustration is clear in his voice, and it pulls my eyes to his, tugs at my understanding. “I don’t know how to make you look at me the way you used to. Or see me as a guy who would never hurt you, because I did. I did the worst things I could’ve done to you, and I want you to be able to trust me again. At the same time, I don’t know how to go back. And part of me doesn’t want you to forgive me, because I don’t feel like I deserve it.”

There he is.“And the other part?”

He manages a smile, apologies in his stare. “The other part wants my friend back.”

I look away and pick up mystill emptybeer bottle, squeezing its neck like it’s let me down, as if it should’ve magically refilled in the sand.

“I want my friend back, too,” I admit, dropping the bottle back down, and managing the same smile. “You’re being honest. It’s a start,” I say through a familiar slight teasing, and a laugh vibrates his stomach that doesn’t reach his face. “So, maybe you don’t try so hard. Maybe I don’t make you. And maybe we just move on.”Whatever that means.

“How much have you drank?” he asks with a skeptical look as he playfully searches around my legs for more bottles, and I snicker as he only finds the one.It’s a start.

“I wanted it to be you, too,” I say, giving the bottle a spin. It comes to a stop away from him, pointing somewhere behind us. “And I’m really glad it’s not.” My stare is soft when I look at him now, and he gives me a nod. “We took a wrong turn.”

“Now maybe we can get back on track?” Julian’s stare is as hopeful as it is unconvinced.

“Maybe,” I repeat, then breathe a laugh, saying my next thought before it passes through my head first. “We’ve seen what happens when two best friends try to become more.” I hear the screech and feel the crash, jump to correct myself. “I mean, unless you’re you and Camille.”

I’m not trying to say bad things about their relationship. I know there’s no comparison between Julian and Camille’s triumph and mine and Julian’s train wreck.

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