Page 1 of Falling for You
Prologue
Annie
Okay, I need to get you up to speed.
I squint as the strobe lighting shines directly in my eyes, bouncing off the sequined cape from my bat costume and creating a little disco ball around me and … well … whoever this half-naked guy is who I’m inexplicably attached to. I don’t mean attached in the way ofhow will my heart beat without him, I mean, literally attached. As in, my bat wing has stabbed him in the chest and ripped open his shirt and now we’re inches apart, pressed together in the middle of a dance floor. I don’t even know his name.
Oh, and I can’t get free.
‘Sorry …’ I shout for the millionth time, trying my best to bend the plastic boning of the wing out of his shirt buttonhole whilst not touching his bare chest. I can’t bring myself to look at his face; this whole thing is embarrassing enough as it is.
A group of dancers bump behind me, pushing me closer towards him, and my hand accidentally brushes his torso.
‘Sorry!’ I shout again and I can’t help it this time, I steal aglance at his face, just to make sure steam isn’t coming out of his ears. Not that I’d blame him. But he doesn’t look mad – he looks alarmed (sure), but not mad – and as he catches my eye I see a flash of kindness. It makes my heart feel a bit fuzzy, until someone bumps me from behind again and something cold splashes down my back.
‘Argh!’ I squeal, instinctively leaping forward.
‘Here,’ he shouts back, making his voice loud enough over the music. ‘I’m sure we can untangle it …’
Tanya is hovering nearby, helpless with laughter. ‘Annie, just stay still,’ she says. ‘The more you move, the worse it’ll get.’ But I hardly register her, transfixed by the man staring down at me.
He takes my hand and together we start bending the plastic to try and free it from the loop of his buttonhole. His hands are firm, and they fold around mine with no awkwardness at all. Like they’ve held my hand a thousand times before. My eyes flick up to his face – he’s so focused on the task in hand that he doesn’t notice – and I smile. He has a beard that skims across his strong jawline and behind his mask I can make out his dark eyes.
I gasp as with one finalcrackof my wing, we burst free. We both spring backwards and I laugh awkwardly as we look at each other.
‘I’m so sorry, did I break your costume?’ he asks.
I look down and wince at my bent wing. ‘No, it’s my fault – I should have checked before opening them. Are you okay?’
For a moment, he just stands there with his shirt stillundone, until he realises his chest is bare and quickly turns away, swearing to himself.
As the music fades into another song, I catch his accent.
‘Are you American?’ I ask.
He turns back towards me, his shirt now fully buttoned up. He takes in my outfit, his eyebrows raising.
‘Yeah … and are you a … bat?’
I push out my chest with pride. ‘Let me buy you a drink,’ I say, reaching forward and putting my hand on his arm, ‘it’s the least I can do.’
He glances around and for a horrible moment I think he’s about to say he’s here with someone else, but then he turns back to me and smiles.
‘Sure,’ he steps back and holds out his arm, ‘after you, Bat Girl.’
I laugh. ‘Right this way, American Boy.’
I lean back on the sofa and swirl my drink, taking a second to look into this man’s eyes. A smile creeps onto my face, pretty much in the position it’s been since we sat down together. There is something about him I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s like this weird electricity, an addictive energy. Something inside me has just clicked, and I feel like I’ve known him forever. Which is mad, considering I’ve only known him for about ten minutes.
It must be the alcohol.
He looks into my eyes and leans towards me. We’ve been gradually getting closer as our conversation has taken off, popping and fizzing between us, bouncing back and forthlike a game of tennis. My heart rate quickens as I feel his breath on my face, smell his woody aftershave.
I think he’s about to kiss me.
I really want him to kiss me.
I tilt my head towards him, feeling like I may burst, when suddenly he jumps, pulling his phone out of his blazer pocket. When he looks at the caller ID, all the joy and spark that was alive in his face seconds before vanishes.
