Page 18 of Already Falling

I turned to hear that raspy little bark call after me and responded, “Reid Parker. What’s yours?”

“Annika Gomes,” she said as she stood up confidently, brushing the rest of the chips off her clothes.

“Nice to meet you, Annika Gomes,” I said to her, and before I turned away, I made a mental bookmark of the way she looked at me.

Her eyes narrowed, and a sideways smirk appeared on her lips. Her braids flipping out at her shoulders, and the knees on her overalls scuffed up. She was cute as a button without even trying, and she probably would kick me in the shins if she knew I called her cute.

In middle school, we had gym during the same period, and it was my favorite hobby to say hi to Annika whenever I saw her. I loved seeing her flush and light up when she said hi to me back. Occasionally I’d pass her in the hall and wave to her, ask her how she was doing, complement the outfit she was wearing, or just give her a smile. I intentionally would try to sit near her during assemblies or talk to her whenever I could because I had the fattest crush but was too chicken to do anything about it. Until they announced the spring dance at the end of April before Spring Break.

I decided I would work up the courage to ask her to the dance with me. I started making her a card and planned to pick flowers from my neighbor’s garden to give her. Things were lining up, and I was starting to settle in, which is usually when my Dad uproots us to start over again. I never got to ask her to the dance, and I left without saying anything to her, not even goodbye. I figured I’d never see her again.

I keep shaking my head, thinking I’m dreaming. It seems surreal that she ran into me at this frat party and is playing ping-pong across from me now. She still wears that mischievous smirk across those rosy lips, but that is about the only thing the same as she was when she was twelve. She’s sprouted at least five more inches and has curves that my eyes are drawn to. Her hips fill out around her jeans, and a soft stomach meets her full chest. The halter top she’s wearing dips low on her back, which I am fighting for my life from running my fingers along. She’s got a couple of little daisies drawn on either side of her cheeks.

Her hair is no longer in braided pigtails but chopped to a blunt black chin-length bob that she’s been threading her fingers through the entire time we’ve been playing. Each time she lifts her hand to flip her hair, I have to will myself from collapsing to the floor. I am baffled at how stunning she is. Her dark eyes ooze with confidence. Eyes that she squints as she is focused on the ping-pong as I casually tap it over the net. There is no way she is winning this game. I played tennis all through high school and ping-pong might as well be an arcade game for me. Besides, according to history, I’ve been waiting to ask her out for six years now.

Game point, and I ace her with my serve. I can’t help but have the biggest, goofiest smile wash over my face as I look over at her in victory.

“Well, well. Looks like we’re going out. I’m thinking…picnic? At a park…no! At the beach. Or perhaps we get coffee first.” I casually saunter over to her, tapping on my chin as I picture the perfect first date.

She is glaring at me, but I think I see her trying hard to hide her grin. “All right, fine, Parker, you win fair and square.”

“Parker? We’ve got to get back on a first-name basis.” I reach out to flip the end of her hair again. I can’t help it, I am obsessed with her flippy hair style. And her.

Just as I’m about to ask her what her favorite food is, an uproar emerges from the kitchen as I see Isaac being carried on the shoulders of his frat brothers. I have no interest in figuring out what the hell is going on and lean down to Annika’s ear. Goosebumps rise on my neck at my proximity to her.

“Hey, let’s head to the backyard.” Pointing toward the screen door, she nods, looking equally as uncomfortable with the commotion.

I get the chance to gently place my hand at her back, guiding her through the crowd that stormed in through the great room, heading toward the kitchen. Her skin is warm, and goosebumps surface on her back as my fingers touch her. Hmm, interesting. I’m holding back from running my hand around her waist and instead hold the back door open as she steps through.

Unlike the house, the backyard is quiet and serene. The house is close enough to the beach that you can hear the waves crash against the sand in the distance. We make our way to a bench at the corner of the yard under a big oak tree. The backyard has party lights strung along the fences providing soft ambient light. I take my place beside Annika, leaving about an inch between us. I saw the way that creepy frat dude tried to make a move on her and how uncomfortable she was that she used me to avoid him. I don’t want to scare her away like he did. I need to remember to ask her about that whole situation later.

“So.” I gaze over at her, smiling and taking in her perfume. She smells like woodsy roses. “What should we get for our picnic on the beach lunch?”

She side-eyes me. “Hmm, not sure. Although I’m expecting our food to be covered in sand.”

“You need to have more faith in my beach picnic abilities.” I scoot a half-inch closer. “I’ll bring an extra-large blanket, a basket to keep the food safe, lots of napkins, and wet wipes. I’ll even bring your favorite drink, which is…” Raising my eyebrows, I close the last half inch until our knees are touching.

I see her glance down at the spot and wonder if it's tingling for her like it is for me.

“I like water,” she delivers in all seriousness, and I almost roll off the bench laughing. “What? My mom didn’t let me drink soda, so I actually love a nice cup of ice water!”

“You are a mystery to me, Annika Gomes.” I don’t restrain my hand as I reach up to tuck a strand of hair that is falling forward behind her ear.

She holds my gaze, and I notice those goosebumps trailing up her shoulders. If I wasn’t mistaken, I think the warmth I feel being near her is mutual.

Still holding my gaze, she says softly, “Well then, surprise me, food, drinks, everything.”

I lean in and say, “I can’t wait to surprise you.”

She keeps her eyes locked on mine, but as I lean in closer, they venture down to my lips. I lick my bottom lip, and I can nearly feel her breath as she tips her head up to me just before we hear a blood-curdling scream.

Annika clearly knows the person connected to the scream because she shoots up and darts toward the house and leaves me, comically falling on the bench where she was just sitting. She turns back at me, her eyes in a panic, and without words, I jog over beside her as we make our way back inside the house.

Once inside, Annika grabs my wrist and pulls me with her through the crowd until we reach the other end of the scream. It’s been a while, but just as I recognize Annika, I recognize her best friend Chloe kneeling on the floor, holding a pair of Birkenstocks covered in some green liquid. Maybe I wouldn’t recognize her separately, but Annika and Chloe were always a pair and looked like they couldn't leave each other’s sides. She looks absolutely distraught, and to my surprise, Annika kneels down on the floor with her.

I’m half expecting her to tell Chloe she’s overreacting, but instead, Annika grabs a napkin on the counter and helps her wipe the goo off, peeling the sandals out of Chloe’s grip. She tells her something that softens Chloe’s face immediately. I’m entranced by Annika’s ability to quickly grasp and relax the situation. Chloe stands up and goes over to a guy with a dark tan and bleach blond hair who cradles Chloe in his arms. Annika tosses the napkins, gives a glare to the crowd staring at the commotion, and turns back to me, looking apologetic.

“Hey, I’m sorry, but I gotta head out. Chloe is a wreck.”