Page 24 of The Upside of Falling
Looking over his shoulder, he eyes Stryder and then turns back to me, slowly starting to retreat backward.
I hold my breath—my body humming with nerves, my palms sweating—awaiting his answer. Just say yes. Give this a chance.Give me a chance.
Please.
“You don’t want to go out on a date with me, Rory. I’m not dating material.” He retreats farther.
“Why won’t you let me decide that?”
As he shakes his head, his eyes seem regretful, almost like he wishes he could say yes, give in to a yearning within him. It’s there; I know it is. He has feelings for me, but he refuses to acknowledge them. I’m not an expert on Colby—byanystretch of the imagination—but I’m fairly certain it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than a single question for him to give in. His behavior is consistent.Say little. Retreat.
“It’s not a good idea, Rory.” Pulling on the back of his neck, he gives me one more once-over, the tip of his tongue peeking out and wetting his lips. “Have a good night.”
With that, he turns his back on me once again and heads toward Stryder, leaving indecision and massive disappointment in his wake. I felt momentary hope when he came over and engaged me in conversation. But I can see it was a little foolish and premature. Colby Brooks gives only what he wants to give, so I fear the two steps forward may be all I get.Is this where I give up?
Chapter Ten
COLBY
“The wind is brutal today,” Stryder says, sitting next to me on the concrete, looking toward the sky. “There is no way we’ll jump today.”
“Not likely.” I curse under my breath. I could really have used this first jump coming back from Thanksgiving break. My mind has been a fucking mess since Rory stepped into my finely tuned life. I can’t stop thinking about the hurt in her beautiful green eyes when I turned her down, or the way her shoulders slouched when I walked away. Completely deflated. I hated being the one who did that to her, because she deserves so much more than a guy who can’t commit to taking her on one date.
One single fucking date.
I’m such an asshole.
But what was I supposed to say? Yes? She’s already got me tied up in knots, thinking about her all the time, during class, at night, in my dreams. I can’t get her out of my goddamn mind. What would happen if I took her out on a date?
She would destroy any ability to concentrate I have left.
I really could use a jump right now. To experience the pulse of fresh air hitting me; the sense of freedom as I fly on my own. I need the feeling of my breath being stolen from me, erasing my mind of this past week and reminding me why I’m here.
Stryder unlatches his helmet and tosses it next to him. “Fucking wind.” Leaning all the way back, his hands behind his head, he sighs. “What’s with you, man?”
“Huh?” Joining Stryder, I discard my helmet, lie down, but use my parachute pack as a headrest.
“You’ve been acting super weird lately. You’re usually short with me, but not this short.”
Sighing, I say, “What do you think?”
“I don’t know . . . birthday coming up? You get weird around your birthday.”
“That’s not for another three weeks.”
“Then what is it?” He pauses and then asks, “Does this have to do with Rory?”
I think back to the last week. The party, that soft sweater showing off her bare, toned shoulders. The soothing sound of her voice as she playfully attempted to pry into my life. The way her hand fit perfectly into mine when I led her into the house. That smile . . . those lips.
Then at bowling. Her willingness to continue to talk to me, not seeming fazed by my gruff, short answers. The swell of her breasts lifting past the V-neck shirt, that goddamn red lipstick. Fuck, I’ve had so many dreams about that red lipstick, and what it would look like dragged over my body with her kisses, over my cock as she took me into her mouth. How it would stain my skin.God, I wanted her.
I haven’t been a saint during my four years at the academy. There have been women, but they’ve been quick fucks, meaningless—moments to ease tension. No one has meant enough for me to shift my focus.Until Rory.
She’s eating me alive. My body itches for her touch, pulls and drags me toward her. I want to know what it feels like to have her slight hands slowly make their way up my chest, to know what it’s like to have her plump lips pressing against mine, to have her body wrapped around mine.
I want to know everything about her. I want her mind at my disposal. I want to know why she didn’t go to New York for school, why her boyfriends didn’t stick around, and how they could possibly disengage from her. Even though I’ve said no to her twice, my heartand my bodyhas screamed yes.
Giving in to his questions, I say, “She’s fucking with my head, man.”
