Page 45 of Break Your Fall

I’m such an idiot for pressuring him to tell me what he was holding back that night. I should’ve just trusted him. I should’ve avoided the knowing.

And I still feel lousy. I still feel like the Camille in the Shelby-Tommy relationship, even as I know the situations are different.

Camille had way more of Julian than I ever did.Hasway more. And it was clear to them—on both ends. They have a relationship now. They’re together, together. The Julian I was with wasn’t the Julian I’ve always known, sure. But every version of Julian was always Camille’s. The version I’d had failed at being my friend. And even though I was following my heart, I still stood in the way of something obvious, because I couldn’t see past my own fear of never having stability, of never being truly loved by someone who knows me, who wants me for more than what’s on the outside.

And now, after everything that’s happened, I have a new fear.

Along with a new feeling, one that’s been slowly closing in, a simmering anger that nags at me the more I douse it away, a thumping vex that I can’t explore.

“Andit’s okay to go after what you want,” Shelby says now. “Especially when what you want says he wants you back. You’re not the bad guy.”

“Thanks,” I say around a light laugh. Shelby’s been a good friend, and the one I knew I needed to talk to today. “I am sorry, though. About Tommy.” I’ve apologized for their break up, but I’m now apologizing for all the circumstances.

“It was worth it,” she says before her voice slips into that confirming sway again. “And if it was worth it for me, I can only imagine what it would be like for you.”

A customer steps up to the counter and fills our thoughts with ice cream flavors and bowl sizes before I can imagine it myself.

The night sky is speckled with stars by the time I lock up and make it back home, the light from the street lamps my constant companion. Those orange bulbs know I won’t find that when I walk through my front door.

My mom has had tape over her lips and a blindfold over her eyes since I gave her that half-threat. She can’t change, so she’s resorted to full on neglect.

She even ignored the old Halloween decorations I’d dug out from the back of the hall closet to showcase just for her—a bottle of witch’s brew and a vial of blood.Options.

My phone was already in my hand and ready to snap a picture to send to Camille before I stopped myself.Not yet earned.And I need to erase that pesky afterthought of wanting her to be impressed by the things I do. I do them for me. Her opinion doesn’t matter.

I stop just a few steps from my bedroom, the music coming from inside stalling my feet instead of the light emitting from under the closed door. “As I Lay Me Down” plays softly from what I’m assuming is my laptop, but this isn’t on any of my playlists. It’s one of my absolute least favorites. The opening notes alone make me wish for immediate hearing loss if I’m ever exposed to them.

I hurry forward to get inside and shut off the song, but I’m stopped again by a collage of photos covering the door. Banks’s face decorates every inch, my eyes scanning top to bottom over close-up shots of attempting sexy poses and come hither looks. I laugh through my gaping mouth. Aside from making me amused, the photos aren’t too bad. They might even work on me if I was into him.

I push open the door to find Banks lying on his back in my bed, shirtless and eyes closed, the lower half of his body under the sheets.

Ew, is he naked?Banks!

Well, I’ll be washing my bedding again tonight, I tell myself as I close my laptop to silence Sophie B. Hawkins, then smack Banks on the shoulder. “Hey.What are you doing? What is all this?” Another laugh breezes past my lips.

Banks doesn’t move and I smack him again. “Banks.Wake up.”

“You have to kiss me,” he says through the corner of his mouth, his eyes still closed.

My eyes roll through a silent snicker. “Uh huh. Okay,” I say through a sudden idea and he smirks. I dip a paintbrush into my water bowl, then lean down close to his face, my voice sultry as I say, “Get ready.”

Banks’s smile instantly relaxes and I try not to laugh as I run the wet bristles along his lips. He shoots up to sitting and I jerk back in a fit of laughter as he spits and slaps at his mouth, shouting, “What was that?”

“My kiss,” I say with a fake pout. “You don’t like it?”

“No!”

I shrug and place the brush on my nightstand. “Oh well, it worked, anyway.” He gives me an unamused stare around another spit. “What are you doing?” I ask again.

“Well, I’m not done,” he complains as he flings the covers off. My hands fly up to shield my eyes, but his lower half is covered by a white sheet tied around his waist. He drops down the opposite side of my bed, then pops back up aiming a toy bow and arrow at my head.

Cupid? Really?

An arrow whizzes past my head and I jump as it smacks against the wall. “Hey!”

“Dammit,” he mutters before aiming again. This time, the arrow smacks against my shoulder and he throws his hands up in victory. I gape as I bend to pick it up, then throw it back at him.

“You love me now,” he proclaims in a shout as he dodges my counterattack.

---