Page 40 of The Upside of Falling
“Not really, but the way she looked so scared . . . I knew it wasn’t in the cards for us.”
Gramps shakes his head, tsking at me. “You didn’t give her a chance to try?”
“I don’t think she would, Gramps.” Despite how much she pushed for us, I don’t think she would.
“Do you like her, Colby?”
I nod my head, pinching my brows with my fingers, willing the simmering headache to stop. “I do.”
“Well then, you never know until you give it a shot. You have the next few weeks off, maybe make it impossible for her to say no to you.”
“And how do you expect me to do that?”
Gramps laughs, his chuckle followed by a deep cough. Pressing his hand against his chest, he says, “Boy, you’re a handsome fella with Brooks blood running through your veins. Put your mind to it and you can make it happen.”
“It’s not that easy.”
He scoffs. “In this day and age, with the technology you have at your disposal, it’s easier than it will ever be.” When I told him Rory had written actual letters to me, he’d been very impressed withmy girl.But . . . well, it wasn’t enough. He nods at me.
“Pull out your phone, and I’ll show you how it’s done.”
“What? No way.”
He wiggles his old, arthritis-riddled fingers at me. “Hand me the damn thing. I’m old, listen to what I have to say.”
Sighing, a smile playing at my lips, I unlock my phone and hand it over to him. He studies it for a second and says, “For God’s sake, I can’t see a thing. Open up a text message and type out exactly what I say.”
“Gramps, we parted on good terms. I don’t want to mess around with her.”
“Good terms means you can communicate with her. Listen to me, damn it. I know what I’m doing. Now open a text and get ready to type.”
Letting out a heavy breath, I wait for the mastermind to do his work. This ought to be good.
Chapter Seventeen
RORY
Istare at the text from Colby, reading it over and over in my head, trying to understand it, trying to determine if he’s drunk or if he’s incredibly awkward and unsure how to talk to girls.
I’m leaning toward drunk . . .
I read it one more time.
Colby:Roses are red, planes are grey, please accept this emoji bouquet.
At the tail end of his text is every flower emoji available. I mean, it would be a very pretty and colorful bouquet, but still, I think he’s drunk.
After we parted ways on Friday, I expected him to go back to the quiet and reserved Colby, the one I wrote letters to—because I promised—but the one I’d possibly never receive much from in return. I sobbed all the way home, and there were moments when I wanted to call him and tell him I’d been wrong. That I did want to try. That I cared about him too much not to. But I didn’t call, because that small amount of time with him—being held by him, talking with him so easily—was wonderful. Addictive.Heis addictive. Even in the quiet moments, I felt at peace. I didn’t want to have momentary tastes of that sort of ease, only for it to be taken away . . .
This text, though. Boy, is it something.
I tuck my legs under me, adjusting my seat on my parents’ couch and stare at my phone. I asked Ryan what I should do, sending her a screenshot of the text, but she hasn’t gotten back to me. I feel like I should reply. It’s been over two hours; is that too late to respond? Would he be more drunk now?
Before I can find out, another text from him comes in. Afraid of what it might say, I squint as I read the text message.
Colby:Sorry about that last text message. My Gramps was trying to show me what it’s like to be “a man” and win a girl back. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Hope I didn’t bother you.
A small smile slips over my lips as my heart starts to beat rapidly in my chest. He was talking to his grandpa about me? Trying towin a girl back. What does that mean?
