Page 25 of The Upside of Falling
Chuckling, Stryder turns toward me, his head propped up by his arm. “I knew it. I’m glad you’re able to come to terms with it.”
“She’s everywhere, Stryder.” I close my eyes. “She’s in class, and she’s in my head constantly. I swear I see her sometimes passing through the halls. She’s in my fucking dreams, that red lipstick killing every last bit of resolve I have.”
The dickhead laughs some more. “Oh fuck, you’re totally smitten.”
“I’m not fucking smitten.” I roll my eyes. “I’m just . . .”What am I?
“Smitten.” Stryder lets out a bellow of a laugh this time while he claps, rolling to his back. “For the first time, ladies and gentlemen, the bulletproof and impenetrable Colby Brooks is being weakened by a persistent and incredibly hot brunette. This is so fucking great.”
“Thanks for the help,” I mutter, closing my eyes. And, as per usual, Rory’s beautiful face comes into view, those soulful eyes cutting me in half once again.
* * *
Ishut my textbook—my eyes are burning—and take off my earphones, setting them on my desk. I rub my eyes; thankful I worked through my studies with only thinking about Rory twice. Not bad. Better than this morning during PT, and when I was in class when her face was on constant replay in my mind.
“You done for the night?” Hardie asks. We’ve shared a room since the beginning of last year. Thankfully. Because if I had to share a room with Stryder, I’d never survive. He fucks around way too much, making it really hard to concentrate. Hardie respects my study method, keeps quiet until I’m done, and tries to fall in line with my schedule because he finds it just as productive.
“Yeah. I’m beat. I think Thanksgiving break did me more harm than good.”
“That’s how you are every time after a break. Your routine is broken, and it always takes you a few days to get back into the swing of things. You’ll get there.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Just out of sync.” I let out a heavy breath. “I’m going to get ready for bed.”
Just as I stand, our door bursts open and Stryder walks in, waving what looks like a letter in front of his face, a knowing smile playing at his lips.
“Good evening, gentlemen. Did you get all your work done?”
“What do you want?”
Flipping onto my bed, he holds up the envelope in his hands to the light. “Oh you know, just playing mailman tonight. Happened to get this little letter in my mailbox today and despite wanting to open it, I knew it wasn’t for me.”
“Is it for me?” Hardie asks, looking way too excited.
“Unfortunately, it is not.” Stryder catches my eye and smiles. “It’s for our good friend, Colby.”
Standing, I reach for it, but Stryder rolls off my bed and stands, sticking the letter into the pocket of his pants. “I’m collecting a delivery charge.” He holds out his hand, which I smack away and snag the letter from his pocket. Stealth and nimble, he never saw it coming.
Hardie laughs. “Dude, you know he’s fucking quick. Now you don’t get your delivery charge.” I swear to God . . . Hardie sometimes.
“Eh, I think my work here is done anyway.” With a shit-eating grin, he salutes us, leaves, and shuts the door.
“Who’s it from?” Hardie asks, leaning his head toward me from his seat, trying to catch a glimpse.
The return address says R. Oaks. I have no idea who that is or why the hell Stryder had it.
“No clue.”
Tearing the envelope open, I’m immediately hit with a familiar scent, flipping me back into the past week. When I unfold the letter, the first thing I notice is the bubbly handwriting followed by a pair of bright red lips smacked on the bottom.
That goddamn red lipstick.
It’s from Rory.
Fucking Stryder!
“Is that thing coated in perfume? Dude, that smells good.” Hardie scoots forward on his desk chair, trying to get another sniff. “And lipstick. Colby, do you have a lady caller? Oh wait, is that from Rory?”
“Don’t you have to go to the bathroom?” I ask, sitting on my bed, as far away from Hardie’s prying eyes as possible.
