Page 53 of Fall for Me

Chelsea

Three days later, I was downtown again, only this time I was going to park as far away as possible from Indigo Street and the offices of Reilly and Sons as I could. It was difficult, in a small town, of course—everything was a ten-minute walk from everywhere once you were over the bridge.

And it was impossible not to feel anything.

I pulled into a spot on Maple Street, a few blocks on the other side of town from Betsey’s, where I was meeting Jude for our lunch. The one we’d planned on the dog disaster day.

Or the I-almost-kissed-Eli’s-best-friend-day.

Though it had been three whole days, I couldn’t stop thinking about Seamus and what had happened between us. Every time it came up, I tried to remind myself nothing had happened. Which, honestly, it didn’t, really. We didn’t kiss. We didn’t say anything beyond what two acquaintances might say to each other.

But he’d blown on my neck, among other, more direct things.

I never thought I’d consider blowing air a move, but it had been the straight-up sexiest thing I’d ever experienced, outside of sex. Even now, it sent shivers down my body, right down between my legs. What had transpired between me and Seamus hadn’t been innocent. We’d crossed a line we weren’t supposed to cross. One I’d promised myself I’d stay away from.

One Eli would lose his shit over.

Not that I cared about Eli’s feelings on the matter. What did matter was that Eli would lose his shit on Seamus. That Seamus had told me how vital his friendship with Eli was, and how I knew I couldn’t do anything to risk that.

I cut the engine. I should have gotten out—should have stepped out into the crisp October air and walked over to Betsey’s to save a seat, as Jude was habitually late and Betsey’s habitually busy at the Friday lunch rush.

Instead, a jolt of nerves hit me. I hadn’t been around this many people since the I-almost-kissed-Seamus day, and that hadn’t exactly gone well. I thought of being in the crowded cafe, with its press of people. Betsey’s was often filled with as many tourists as locals, as famous as it had become. I’d thought meeting up with Jude in a crowded place would be fine, seeing as everyone would be staring at him. But as I pulled down my visor mirror, my stomach swayed. I’d put on makeup before I left the house—just a little mascara and blush, plus a pair of hammered brass circle pendant earrings. My bruises were almost gone, and I’d fixed up my hair, too.

But there was no hiding.

I pressed my fingers along the new, lower-profile bandage running across my face. My scar was healing, and no longer required the thick absorbent gauze. It didn’t require any bandage at all, the doctor had said at my checkup yesterday. The stitches were gone, and it was healing well. But I still couldn’t bring myself to take the bandage off outside the house. An angry pink raised scar ran the length of my face: from my forehead across the bridge of my nose and cheekbone.

Seamus had acted like he didn’t care about the bandage. But everyone else did that day. Everyone else would stare, like they always did, and as much as I wanted to pretend I didn’t care either, it didn’t feel great.

My phone buzzed, and I snapped the visor shut.

JUDE: Get me the pot pie if you’re there already.

CHELSEA: I’m not.

JUDE:Are you hiding in your car?

How did he know?

CHELSEA: Maybe.

JUDE: We can go somewhere else? Takeout?

I was touched by Jude’s thoughtfulness. And as I held the phone in my hands a moment, I was sorely tempted to take him up on hiding. But I spread out my hand, taking in the scab on my palm, already healing. I recalled Seamus treating my wounds, looking after me like it was his job. It wasn’t only Seamus who’d helped me, it was his dad, too, when he took the dog. The woman at the front, Joyce, when she’d given me the name of a good puppy trainer. His dad hadn’t stared at my face like I was some kind of monster. Joyce hadn’t either. They’d all been so kind to me, and I hadn’t so much as sent a thank-you card.

I picked up my phone again.

CHELSEA: No, Betsey’s is good. But if you have a minute can you run an errand with me first?

If Jude was with me when I went back to Reilly and Sons, there was no chance of anything happening between me and Seamus. Specifically, no confession or oversharing or… anything I couldn’t do with a brother around.

As it turned out, Jude was only a few blocks away, and a few minutes later, as I rounded the corner, I saw my brother striding down the sidewalk.

He opened his arms. “Nutty!”

I grimaced at his ridiculous nickname for me, his adaptation of Mom and Dad’s ‘peanut’ moniker for me. I wished, for the first time ever, that I had his absolute inability to understand embarrassment. With his easy gait, confident, upbeat tone, and blond hair tied in a knot on the top of his head, Jude oozed confidence. He could belt out the theme song to Sesame Street and make it look good.

A pair of young women I didn’t recognize turned and openly gawked at him as he passed, whispering something to each other.

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