Page 43 of The Upside of Falling
Colby:I’ll be there.
Chapter Eighteen
COLBY
The steps to Rory’s apartment creak under my six-foot-two frame, bending and stretching beneath me. The narrow walls bow and crack, showing off the age of the building with its chipped paint and dented surface. It’s not pretty, but I’m sure Rory has made it perfect.
With a single flower in hand, I make my way to the second floor, eating up the steps two at a time, feeling nervous, but more than anything, excited.
After a long lecture from Gramps telling me to pull my head out of my ass, I sent his lame poem to Rory. When she didn’t respond right away, I regretted everything I’d ever done in life. Then my phone dinged, and it started a conversation, a conversation I’d craved. And even though I didn’t want to, I had to hand it to Gramps. He knew how to win a girl back with a corny poem. He says it works every time . . . at least it did with Grandma whenever she was mad at him.
I stuck that advice in my back pocket in case I ever needed it.
When I reach the top of the stairs, I knock on the only door on the landing. The building is less than stellar and not a place I’d want her living. In my mind, she deserves more than an entryway door barely hanging off the hinges and walls that seem to crumble when you look at them.
Footsteps pad across the floor and the door opens, revealing a very bubbly and energetic Rory. I don’t even get a chance to say hi before she’s pulling me into her apartment and wrapping her arms around my waist. I return the embrace, my arms encasing her tightly as I press my cheek to the top of her head.God, I needed this. Needed to hold her.After a moment, I take in her studio apartment. The focal point is her large bed decorated in red and orange floral bedding with giant pillows and fluffy blankets. To the left there is a small kitchenette and two-person dining table, decorated in bright turquoise and yellow. To the right, there is a tan loveseat covered in colorful pillows facing a matching entertainment center. It’s homey, bright, and so Rory.
I like it a lot.
Rubbing her back, I say, “Hey there.”
Pushing off my chest slightly, she looks up at me and smiles that gorgeous smile. “You’re here.”
I nod. “I’m here.” I give her the single rose—feeling a little dumb—but when she takes it, her eyes light up.
“Thank you. This is so sweet.” Standing on her toes, she presses a light kiss across my cheek and takes off toward her kitchen, bouncing away in leggings and another one of those comfy sweaters of hers. This one is mint green. It highlights her beautiful eyes and makes her figure look fucking incredible.
I shut the door behind me and make my way into the apartment while I watch her take out a glass, fill it with water and put the single rose inside. Once she sets it on the table, she turns toward me and takes my hand in hers, directing me to the loveseat. She pushes some pillows to the side and sits down, pulling me down with her.
She plays with the fabric of my shirtsleeve and says, “I love the rose, but the emoji bouquet was far more impressive.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, Gramps is a real smooth guy.”
She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “I think I might need to meet this bouquet-giving legend.”
“God, he would probably eat up the opportunity to meet you.”
“Yeah?” She’s turned toward me, both her legs tucked under her bottom. “Is he handsome? I might like the original version over the twice duplicated.”
“If you’re looking for an old man with arthritis who enjoys a warm blanket over his shoulders and a good montage of fighter pilot videos, then he’s your guy.”
“Oooo, you’re getting me all hot and bothered.” She waves her hand in front of her face.
I take her hand and link it with mine, the feel of her palm molding against mine easing the tension in my shoulders, and I feel relaxed. Being around her does that to me, like she’s a safe place. I don’t have to worry about outside factors. Instead, I can let my guard down and breathe.
“Did you mean it?” I ask, wanting to gauge her reaction. “Did you mean it when you said you couldn’t stay away? Because if you’re not feeling the same thing I am, then—”
She sits up on her knees and covers my mouth with her hand, her eyes searching mine, bouncing back and forth, the green of her irises so goddamn beautiful my stomach flutters, and my chest constricts.
Her soft hair floats over her shoulders as she tilts her head ever so slightly to the side. “I meant everything I said. I know this won’t be easy, but I want to take it one step at a time.” She lowers her hand and scoots even closer. “I spoke with my mom last night about us, and she asked if I would regret not taking the chance at being with you.”
“What did you say?” I ask, waiting with bated breath for her answer.
“I knew I would regret every last minute of it.”
Smiling, I pull her over my lap so her back is leaning against the armrest of the sofa, and her hamstrings are across my legs. Moving in, invading her space, I press my palm against her cheek and lean forward, brushing my lips across hers. Satisfied, she lets out a long sigh and grips the back of my head, pulling me in closer, deepening our kiss, her mouth parting, our tongues colliding.
Sliding my hand down, my thumb presses against the spot below her ear, her skin silky and soft beneath my touch. Before my hand can slide any farther south, I put some distance between us.
