Page 67 of It’s All in How You Fall
“Maybe,” he says, “to make myself feel better, I wanted reasons not to buy it and… well, I may have offered to ruin more than just his kneecaps.”
I want to press my hands to my face and hide but don’t.
“And so I also thought the worst when I realized that you’d gone to Alex’s house and not Peregrine’s.”
I’m silent. He’s right. And I’m terrified that his correctness is being presented in a calm, orderly way. He’s never been like Dad; he’s always been like Mom. She’s all sass and walking out with middle fingers, and he didn’t fall far from the tree. Now I’m standing in the shade of him, the moon at his back. And his reaction is so dramatic it doesn’t even telegraph with his normal scale. “Listen, you don’t have to say it out loud, but I get it all now.”
Okay, now my hands are on my face.
Nat went from confronting me, confronting Alex, and following me to… at least appearing as if he understands?
“Look, if youdon’twant to keep training with him—I’ll help you cover it, and train with you if you want to keep doing tennis or whatever.” He does understand. He completely understands. And is being subtle about it. “If youdowant to train with him just to hang out—I promise I’ll stay out of it. For real. I won’t ask you about it. I won’t ask him. I won’t push.”
My throat is full again, hot tears pressing against my lash line, compounded by the pressure from my fingers shielding whatever I can from my brother, the moon, any armchair snoops drawing back curtains for a look.
“I know sometimes I’m about as bad at showing it as Mom, but I love you and I want you to succeed. And, you know, not be pressured into things by dudes with muscle cars and access to the country club, even if he’s my friend.” It’s a repeat of his stance the other night but now it feels different. Like everything else. Nat palms the top of my head like it’s one of his basketballs, more gently I guess, but the intent is the same—I’ve got you. “But you weren’t pressured. That much was clear on both of your faces.”
Both of our faces?What does Alex want? I only know what he’s said:
He confirmed he had a long-festering crush on Sunny.
He said yes to a reintroduction.
He said yes to my meet-cute payment plan.
He said yes to a date.
And yet… he would’ve let me kiss him just minutes ago. I think.
Actions speak louder than words, but we never completed the action, just the run-up. And after that, he confirmed his date with Sunny. Publicly. That was a choice—an action—too.
I know I could just toss everything to the wind and ask him. I could. But we all know how shitty I am at hand-to-ball coordination—I’d probably take off Alex’s very handsome head with my forty-five-pound bag of emotional confusion.
My eyes skip to Nat’s face, hoping he’ll make it clear what he saw of us, frozen there, not touching, literal “Agony” lilting in the air.
He doesn’t. Instead, a smirk inches across his face, confident tilt back to his chin. “And… if you change your mind on everything and you need me to take him out at the knees, I will. I wasn’t kidding.”
Nat turns and walks up the drive. Leaving me standing in the creeping shadows and moonlight with my thoughts, the whisper of Alex’s touch still warm on my face.
And, as the storm door slides to a pneumatic close, the skies open up and it finally rains.
30
When I wake up Friday, it’s to the sound of more rain. Heavyrain. Fits my mood—dreary and dark, even though it’s past dawn.
When I stumble into the kitchen, I find Nat devouring a scone as big as his fist. “CAWFEE IN DA FRIDGE.”
He motions toward the refrigerator with a half-drunk massive Frappuccino topped with enough cream to ski across. As I open the door to find my very own cold brew—though Nat’s name is scrawled across it, of course—he swallows enough scone to provide an explanation on his sudden bout of caffeine-fueled kindness. “They sent us home. Can’t do grounds work when it’s pouring buckets. But they told us we’d be paid for a full day, and if that’s not worth dropping twenty dollars on breakfast, I don’t know what is.”
I tear the paper off my straw and take a deep pull of perfect coconut milk cold brew bliss. “Thanks for including me in your money-for-nothing celebration.”
Nat studies his scone like he just realized he ordered that and not some bacon-filled breakfast sandwich. “I figured you could use a pick-me-up after last night.”
I don’t know what to say. Are we having this conversation? Like, did Nat see Alex at Northfield before they were sent home? Did they talk about last night? Andwhatwould they talk about, exactly? Nat isn’t the most subtle person on earth. If he wanted to try to have a nuanced conversation about my feelings, Alex’s feelings, and Alex’s date tonight with Sunny, well… that conversation would likely be even more embarrassing than our siblings walking in on a situation that very much felt like it could’ve amounted to a kiss.
Well, I mean, at least that’s wheremybrain was.
“So…,” Nat says, ripping off part of the scone and handing it to me. I won’t turn it down even though I’m shocked he would share. Maybe he already had a breakfast sandwich and this was a sugar-dusted afterthought. “The date’s tonight?”
