Page 11 of Forever Mine
There are new pieces of furniture that weren’t there before, and whatever lemon furniture polish they used is enough to choke me into unconsciousness. I give its pristine state maybe two weeks to last. Once the parties start, it’ll get trashed real quick.
“Have to get the place spotless for freshman rush. We replaced most of the den furniture with new shit.”
I kick off my sneakers. The Persian foyer runner cushions my bare feet like a cloud.
“Good. The paisley sofa smelled like vomit.”
Alex chuckles. “Vomit wasn’t the only thing. John went through the entire house with a black light. We tossed anything that lit up like a fucking neon sign.”
My nose scrunches at the disturbing thought. “That’s gross.”
“You have no idea. Want to see the pictures?” he asks a little too enthusiastically.
“Hard pass.” I peer up at the second-floor balcony. “Is he here?”
I tried texting Fallon a couple of times. Never got a response, so I decided to show up on his doorstep.
Alex thumbs over his shoulder. “Out back. He’s in a pissy mood, even for Fallon.”
I figured as much. That’s why I came.
I stop in the kitchen to grab two sparkling waters from the fridge before heading out to the back deck.
I find Fallon leaning against the deck railing, a contemplative, solitary man. He’s silhouetted by the afternoon sun hovering precariously just above the horizon. Hues of deep red, orange, and coral pink paint the sky like a watercolor, and for some reason, the sentiment of tragic beauty pops into my mind. Then again, after this morning, I’m in a weird headspace.
Setting the waters down between us, I take a similar stance beside him, dangling my wrists off the top rail, and watch a lone evening bat put on a show as it dives and swoops an acrobatic routine to catch its dinner.
Fallon takes one of the bottles I brought out and untwists the cap. “Why do I feel like this visit has an ulterior motive?”
“Because it does,” I reply truthfully.
Fallon has unrequitedly pined away for Liz from afar since junior high, but he never did anything about it because of his friendship with Ryder. What happened to her hit Fallon just as deeply as the guys. And like I did for Julien, Fallon only came to CU for Ryder and me.
It doesn’t matter if we’re from vastly different worlds or if our friendship doesn’t make sense to a lot of people. Despite our differences, Fallon and I are very much the same. We’d do anything, sacrificeeverything, for those we love.
“You’ve seen her?” he asks.
“I have.”
And that’s the entirety of our conversation about Liz. He knows I’d tell him if she wasn’t okay.
His shoulder brushes against mine. “Areyougood?”
That’s a loaded question. One of those self-destructivewhat-ifs. What if Julien loves Liz more than he loves me? I know it’s an irrational thought mired in the baggage I carry around that’s packed with years of self-doubt about my worthiness to be loved by anyone. Mom made sure to mentally screw me up in that department.
Chilled condensation drips down the green glass and over my fingers. “To be determined,” I reply, lifting the bottle to my lips and taking a sip.
It’s hard not to let old insecurities slither their tentacles around me. I know better, but most importantly, I know Julien. Doesn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in, unwanted and unwelcome.
Fallon turns and sears me with an ice-blue gaze. “You shut that shit down quick. People make mistakes. You know fucking well Julien loves you. Stop punishing him for what happened last year.”
“I’m not.”
Julien has bent over backward to repair the damage he unknowingly created after Liz disappeared. He was depressed and hurting and made stupid choices. He realized it and finally did something about it. Therapy also helped. We’ve been in a really good place.
“I’m not,” I repeat more assuredly, wanting out from under Fallon’s piercing frown.
“Good.”
