Page 33 of It’s All in How You Fall
Here. Headed to the fountains.
We’re back to our march-crawl, and Alex is again tipping his bottle my way. He’s taken the top off so that in theory I could just pour water straight down my parched throat.
He wiggles it in front of my face. It does look enticing and I realize I probably seem super stubborn, but the fountains are literally at the end of this row. Somewhere over coffee dad’s head. “Thank you, but really I need the goal.”
Alex shrugs and caps the bottle. “Or the breather.”
This makes me crack a smile—and I elbow him.
He squirms away on contact, years of soccer and basketball threaded through the automatic reaction. He pointedly rubs a sturdy oblique. “I’m pretty sure you tagged my kidney.”
I laugh but then he fist-bumps my shoulder. “Maybe we need to give soccer a try next. Throwing elbows is crucial to success at any level.”
“It’s a spring sport,” I remind him.
“So? More time to hone your skills before tryouts. You could even join a fall rec league.”
True. “I’ll think about it. I want to try all the fall sports first, though. Just for sequence’s sake.”
And to buy me more chances to make the perfection that is Sunny and Alex happen.
As oncoming traffic steps around us, it’s hard to miss the fact that more than one woman has tossed us a little smile. A wave or cheerful eyebrows at the children ahead, then a pause and a smile directly at me. Me, not Alex. Smile, eyes glinting up to our faces, then down to our hands, which are not touching, by the way. But the watchers expected them to be.
They think we’re on a date.
Somehow, two teenagers simply walking side by side implies first love.
All at once I’m embarrassed, annoyed, and kind of impressed that anyone would think Alex Zavala is walking around with me out of anything else than the kindness of his heart—well, and a relationship forced by a lifetime of parallel lives.
I’m suddenly aware that I’ve stopped moving forward and shuffle-jog to catch up to Alex when I’m slapped with another realization.
What if Sunny thinks this too? She clearly did during the first interaction. She literally told Peregrine that. How am I going to cover this—
“Caro!”
Crap. Well, I’m about to find out.
14
The family ahead of us peels off at the sight of honey sticks, andthere, only ten feet away, are Sunny and Peregrine. Sunny squeals my name, and her arms yawn open for a full-body hug despite my obvious perspiration and the fact that she’s balancing both an iced coffee and a droopingly full reusable bag over one shoulder.
“I’m sweaty,” I apologize preemptively, but it means nothing because she’s already wrapping her arms around me.
“So am I. So is everybody—it’s July!” Sunny says as I return her embrace. She smells of vanilla body wash and her half-finished coffee, and she isn’t sweaty as much as she’s warm—like a cinnamon roll, not a slice of pizza.
“No, like she’sreallysweaty,” Peregrine deadpans over Sunny’s shoulder before pointedly asking, “Did you guys run here or what?” She slips her phone in the back pocket of her jean shorts while everyone but me is somewhat distracted—I bet if I had my phone out and available at this very moment, it would’ve shown her responding to me.
That’s when Sunny seems to notice Alex. I mean how can you miss him? Maybe this’ll take more work than Peregrine or I think.
“Oh, hey,” Sunny says by way of greeting. She takes a step back, her thick lashes flicking as she takes in my shoes, shorts, tank top. “Yeah, did you guys really run?” She plucks the bottom of my shirt. “Love that tank on you.”
I nod in answer to her running question and curtsy. “Aw, thanks, Sun. Simone makes everyone look good.”
“True that,” Sunny confirms. “Alex, is this your handiwork?” She gestures to my general aura of perspiration. “I didn’t think anyone could get Caroline to run other than Olga on a tear. You must be talented.”
“Or a masochist because running is terrible,” Peregrine supplies.
“This was actuallymyidea and Alex wasniceenough to come with me.” I emphasizenicein hopes that Peregrine might actually help me here instead of insinuate that our leading man conned me into some sort of early-morning Ironman.
