Page 48 of Don't Fall

“Hey,” a quiet squeak of a voice draws my eyes upward. Riley.

“Hey, you.” I hug her tight until I’ve suffocated the swirl of anxiety that’s been rising in my chest since I got here. Riley doesn’t need to see me cry. We’re just barely rebuilding our relationship, and I’m the big sister. It’s my job to hold my shit together. So, I put on a smile and force the light back to my eyes knowing it will disguise the sheen of tears still lingering, threatening silently to be shed.

“You look good, are you good?” I ramble, stumbling my way into some sort of conversation with her. It still isn’t easy or natural, but I’m holding out hope we’ll get there as long as we both keep showing up.

“I’m fine,” she mumbles picking up the menu. She’ll order French Toast. She always does. The menu perusing is simply a means to an end. Getting me to shut up.

I inhale deeply until I can feel the air push out against my belly button and remind myself that she’s a teenager and we’re all assholes at that age. “Get your learner’s permit yet?” I ask, trying to venture my way into a topic she’ll find interesting.

“I did.” She sets down the menu. A good sign. “I don’t get to use it much though. Maybe you could help me practice sometime?” she asks hopefully. She doesn’t need to elaborate on the obstacles keeping her from driving. Last I heard, our mother had her license permanently revoked, so she’s not in any position to take Riles cruising around.

“Sure. Maybe we’ll skip breakfast next month and have a little driving session instead.” I smile. I know I had to sweeten the pot for her to warm up a bit, but I don’t blame her. Most days I think she had it hardest out of all of us, being stuck with our mother for the long haul. A little mistrust is to be expected, even amongst siblings, when you can’t even count on your own mother to be honest with you.

“For real? Like, you’d let me drive for like a whole hour?” The excitement is shrouded in doubt, like a girl who’s learned never to count her chickens before they hatch.

“For real. Like, a whole hour,” I tell her, grinning, because I’m not sixteen and I, like, seriously, don’t talk like that.

She claps her hand together as if she’s giving a miniature round of applause to life in general. “Oh my God, it’s going to be so awesome!”

“Good.” I nod, satisfied with my efforts. “Now then, can we finally order some freaking food. I’m starving.” I am. In an empty pit for a stomach sort of way. Just hadn’t noticed before thanks to the surge of adrenaline and nauseating emotions running rampant in my system all morning.

“Yes, please.” She giggles. It’s the best thing I’ve heard all morning. Well, almost. Maybe it’s tied for best thing. Guilt fills my empty pit and hunger wanes again. It’s wrong to be thinking about him, here with her. Right? He shouldn’t warrant enough of my attention to distract me from my breakfast date with Riley.

“I think I’m going to order pancakes,” Riley blurts, interrupting my self-loathing.

“That seems a little drastic, no?” I laugh, not sure where the sudden desire to sway from her tried and true French Toast is coming from.

“I think it’s time for a little change. Also, you look like something’s up. But I’m not insightful and selfless yet, so I don’t know how to smoothly go where you’re not going without making drastic pancake eating announcements,” she explains, folding her hands on the table.

“Nothing is up,” I assure her. “And please don’t feel like you need to give up French Toast on my account. I’m pretty fond of blunt and straightforward. Believe me, when I’m not trying to be extra tactful with you, it’s my go-to approach for tackling conversations.”

“Oh, alright then.” She leans forward. “Cut the shit, what’s going on?”

I nearly bust out laughing. “Well, if you must know...I’m sleeping with a really hot guy I have no business sleeping with...because he’s my professor.”

Her eyes light up. “Continue.”

I lean back into the booth, smirking. “I would, but I made him swear we wouldn’t tell other people, so, you know. Can’t.”

She gapes at me. “Totally unfair.”

“I know.” I pull my phone from my pocket. “Wanna see a picture?”

A wicked flash of mischief flares in her big eyes. “Uh-huh.”

I pull up one of Jules’ fifty thousand social media pages. Given the whole phone debacle, I know damn well she’s posted pictures from the other night and we all know Lane will have been the star in every single shot.

“Here.” I hand her my phone when I find a picture where Jules isn’t trying to dry-hump him.

“Damn.”

“Right?!”

She ogles him a little more until our server shows up and we finally get around to ordering. After that, the conversation takes a more age appropriate turn and by the time breakfast is over, I’m feeling a renewed sense of hope we may actually feel like real sisters again someday.

Lane

Classes drag on forever today and more than once, I catch myself searching for her anytime I move across campus. She doesn’t land in any of her usual spots all day, and by the time I leave, I can’t help but wonder if she’s avoiding me after all.

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