Page 4 of The Upside of Falling
Jumping off the bed, Stryder claps his hands obnoxiously. “You’re not going to regret this.” Taking my hand in his, he gives me a half-hug, clapping me on the back, and then motions to my clothes. “Get the fuck out of your ABUs, put on something decent, and be ready by six tonight. You’re not going to regret this.”
Why do I have this heavy feeling inside me that I will?
Chapter Two
RORY
Ryan:Are you home?
Rory:Just got home from work. You on your way over?
Ryan:Yes and I have salads!
Rory:Oh yay, just what I want. <-- That’s sarcasm.
Ryan:Kidding. I have pancakes. See you soon.
Flopping down on my king-size bed, the monstrosity that takes up almost half my studio apartment, I remove the ponytail holder from my hair and fling it across the room to my small vanity set. Staring up at the cracked ten-foot ceilings of my tiny apartment, I let out a long, heavy breath.
What a day.
The gym is sucking me dry when it comes to teaching classes. Four. I taught four today. Don’t get me wrong. I love teaching and get great joy out of it, but combined with my part-time hours at the massage studio, I’m wiped out and ready for a little break.
Thankfully I have tomorrow off. And guess what I’ll be doing? Sleeping. Yes . . . sleeping! Oh man, I’m going to sleep so hard.
The door to my apartment flies open and Ryan, my best friend, comes barreling in, her hair a wild mess from the wind outside, and her cheeks a cherry red from the cold Colorado air wafting down from the snow-capped mountains.
Donkey-kicking the door shut behind her, she flings her hair to the side and jumps onto my bed, holding a plastic bag in front of her. Crossing her legs, she lets out a little breath and says, “Derick gave us free bacon.”
“Did you flirt with him to get said free bacon?” I dip my hand into the bag and pull out the warm containers.
Ryan and I both live in Manitou Springs, a small town that sits at the base of the mountains right outside Colorado Springs. It’s touristy, cute during the summer, and houses two main attractions for the area: the Pikes Peak Cog Railway that takes you up Pikes Peak—a fourteen-thousand-foot mountain, and the Incline—a one-mile hiking trail straight up the side of a mountain. Pure torture, if you’re into that kind of thing . . .like I am.
Living in Manitou has its pluses and minuses. One of the minuses being our restaurant choices are slim pickings given the small Main Street strip filled with an eclectic combination of gift shops and little Mom and Pop restaurants. On the plus side though, we have Uncle Sam’s Pancake House with the world’s best pancakes and a manager who likes to be flirted with. Flirt with Derick and you’re bound to get free bacon.
“Of course I flirted with Derick. And guess what he told me while I was flirting?”
“That next time we come in, we can get free biscuits?” I pop open one of the recyclable takeout boxes and close my eyes as a wave of pancake goodness and butter hits me square in the nose. It’s not very often I allow myself to indulge in pancakes.
Well, maybe once a week. But the rest of the week I eat like a rabbit. So pancake night is cherished.
“No free biscuits, but I can ask next time.” Ryan hands me three syrup packets and starts to open her own, drizzling the yumminess all over the fluffy, buttermilk pancakes in her box. “Do you remember Tom from high school?”
Mouth full of heavenly pancake, I think back three years to high school. “Tom, uh, does he have a last name?”
“I can’t remember it, but Tom with the log house.”
“Oh, rich Tom with the log house.”
Ryan points her syrup-covered fork at me. “Yes, rich Tom. He’s having a party at his log house in Woodland Park tonight.”
Uh-oh, I think I know where this is going.
“Uh-huh.” I give her a pointed look. Ryan knows tomorrow is my day off, and she knows how much I cherish my day off because I don’t get many. She knows my days off usually consist of lying around in bed watching movies on my iPad, and ignoring the world, well . . . most of the world. There is one phone call I will always pick up, one fire I will always put out, one person I’ll drop everything for.
Shyly, Ryan looks up through her eyelashes and bites her bottom lip. Is she . . . trying to flirt withme? I know that look. Good luck, sister. It’s not going to work on me.
“Want to go?”
