Page 161 of Falling Backwards
“I’m sure you’re already aware that you’re the know-it-all type more often than not.”
The sound she makes is half-scoff and half-squeak, and it makes me laugh again.
I insist, “There’s no way you can say it’s not true!”
“You’renot true,” she counters.
“Oh, good one.”
“You’rea good—”
The silence that falls as she stops herself fills with even more of my laughter.
She tries to hang on to her little protest, but she quickly ends up laughing with me.
“Whatever,” she says—and the curl of her arm around my waist says in a different way that she really isn’t that annoyed.
I can’t lie to myself: I love it.
“You’re gorgeous too,” she tries to add in a casual tone.I hear the bit of unsteadiness in it, though.The bit of shyness returning.
Both because the urge is too big to ignore and because a few nearby people can loosely be called an audience, I tilt down and press a firm kiss to her temple.“Thank you.”
Something else I love is the way her breathing hitches.The way she squeezes my waist in her arm.The way her other hand comes up and touches the front of my shirt, then judders down to my navel, then falls away—except Idon’tlove that it falls away.Not at all.I don’t love that I’m left with only the ghost of that contact and the invisible fire it left behind.
I’m in trouble.
The whisper goes over and through me, quieter but no less ardent than the desire I feel for her to touch me and not stop.
And of course now is when her arm drops from me, too, and she takes a small step away.
I very nearly ask why she did that, but she speaks first: “I guess we can’t do much powerwalking if we’re all close to each other.”
Oh.Right.
“Guess not,” I agree.“Can’t betooleisurely today, huh?I gotta get you back to your friends before long so y’all can do your Friendsgiving shopping.”
“Yeah….”
I hope I’m not imagining the disappointment in that word.
We get into our more exercise-y pace and talk a little more about those plans of hers.Even though she, Joy, and Emma are doing their Thanksgiving thing tomorrow, they’re starting some of the cooking today.
And although I don’t let myself focus on them, I keep having flickering thoughts of the upcoming plansIhave with her.Plans for us to stay together while her friends are out of town and for her to come to my mom’s with me on Thursday.Even briefly thinking about it all puts a strange feeling in my stomach—not exactly nervousness, but not an entire sense of calm either.
I guess I’m just on edge, except in a way that isn’t bad.
Indeed, as our chatting goes quiet, I imagine watching a movie with her, or trying to talk her out of cleaning some other part of my apartment, or becoming comfortable in hers, or lying close to her again, or soothing her when something spooks her, or introducing her to my mom as my girlfriend…and, yeah, the feeling intensifies into something I can name: eagerness.
It’s hard work not letting my mind wander farther than that, like it has plenty of times since we settled our plans.God knows how tempting and easy it is to imagine more kisses, touches, confessions, burning moments that stitch us closer together instead of ripping us apart.
“Luke,” she says suddenly softly, “do you remember…?”
I look over at her and see her tucking her hair behind her ears, watching her feet.
I match her tone.“What?”
She takes a deep breath like she’s steadying herself.
