Page 28 of Fear of Falling

“That was fun.” I heard the laughter in his voice.

“So fun,” I muttered as we walked down the hall to my apartment, my mind going a million miles a minute.

Will he expect to come inside? Will he kiss me? Will I see him again? What if everything I told him was too much, and I’ve scared him off? That walking me to my apartment is just him being polite.

When we stopped at my door, we turned and faced each other, our eyes meeting. It was like we both wanted to say something but couldn’t get the words out.

“I had a good time tonight,” I finally said.

“I did too.” The hard lines of his face relaxed a little as he smiled softly down at me.

“Thanks for walking me to my door,” I said lamely, to which he just nodded. Unsure of what else to say or do, I grabbed my keys and unlocked my door. I hesitated for just a second, waiting to see if he’d say anything more, but when he didn’t, I stepped into my apartment.

“Goodnight Wyatt.”

“Josie.” His voice stopped me from going any further. Turning to the side I gazed at him, standing there awkwardly on the other side of the threshold, hands at his sides. “I don’t know if you have anything going on Friday, but I have a game and I was wondering if you would like to come?”

His offer took me completely by surprise. Here I was thinking he was going to something like ‘it was nice meeting you, see you around’. Instead, here he was asking me to come and watch him play.

“I, uh…” I stammered, unable to get my vocal cords to work.

“If you already have plans, that’s fine too,” he said in a rush, and I could hear an edge of nervousness in his voice.

Who would have thought? A bigshot like Wyatt Boone, nervous to ask a girl to come to one of his games.

“I would love to.”

Like hell I’d say no.

“Yeah?” His blue eyes lit up at my words. “Okay, great. I’ll text you the details.” He stared down at me for another second before he cleared his throat and took a step back. For a second, I imagined that he was about to kiss me.

“Goodnight,” he said instead, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Goodnight.” Before I could do anything stupid, like pull him into a kiss, I quickly closed the door. Leaning back against it, I placed my hands on my burning cheeks, and smiled wider than I had ever done before.

Wyatt asked me to come to his game Friday! He wants to see me again!

A squeal erupted from me as I sunk to the floor. I was still there, reliving the evening when I felt my phone buzz in my handbag a few minutes later. I quickly pulled it out and found a new text from

Wyatt, although the name was something different.

Hockey Boy: I had a good time today.

My smile widened further as I read the text and the one above it. It was a text sent by ‘me’ and it said;

I will always trust Wyatt Boone’s food recommendations.

I ended up sitting there on the floor of my apartment for a good ten minutes re-reading the texts, feeling like maybe today was the start of something new and exciting.

13

WYATT

“How’s the knee feeling today?” My physical therapist, Asher, asked as he entered the room.

“Not bad,” I shrugged, moving back on the padded bench as he approached.

“Is that the truth or are you sugar coating it?” The look he gave me said that he wanted a real answer. Asher had spent the past year helping me rehab my knee. The 6’2 former soccer player was said to be the best physical therapist in Toronto and came highly recommended after my surgery.

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