Page 140 of Built to Fall
He’s out of the booth before I can even think, like he can’t stand another second without closing the space between us. His arms wind around me—desperate and sure—and I press my face into the place where his neck meets his shoulder, thankful for the heels giving me a few extra inches to do so.
I’m breathing him in like I’ve been underwater for too long and he’s the first gasp of air. He smells like soap and sandalwood—something so achingly and stupidly familiar that it cracks something open deep inside me.
I don’t even realize I’m cryingagainuntil I feel his hand slide up to the back of my head, fingers threading gently through my hair, grounding both of us.
Grant’s other hand presses flat against my spine, anchoring me to him like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.
When we finally pull back enough to look at each other, his thumb brushes over my cheekbone, catching a tear.
His smile is broken and beautiful all at once.
“So much for giving you space,” he says, voice rough.
“You’re exactly where I want you,” I whisper back.
Grant gives me a knowing look from the few inches he still stands above me. He’s looking down at me as though he can see the weight of everything I wasn’t saying, willing to carry it if I just hand it over.
It makes my chest tighten because I know what I need to say.
“I was hurt.” The words come out small, almost childlike.
“I know.” His voice is wrecked and full of so much regret. It almost undoes me.
We stand there, in the middle of the diner, while the whole world keeps spinning around us. And I don’t care who’s watching.
“I was scared you didn’t want me the way I want you,” I whisper.
I’m still scared of that reality.
His hands cradle my face so gently it shatters something inside me.
“God, Lina,” he breathes. “You have no idea how badly I want you.”
“If you really mean that, then you should take me home with you.”
Grant looks surprised, but then a smirk grows on his face. “Is this you taking me up on my offer? For a second time?”
I bite my lip to stop from smiling. “We’ll see.”
Grant pulls back so he can lace his fingers through mine. “Come on,” he says, tugging me gently toward the door.
There’s something so familiar about getting in his car, like chasing a feeling I know better than to trust.
The engine rumbles to life, the world blurs past, and with his hand still tangled in mine, I think some mistakes are the ones you make on purpose.
My pulse is drumming all the way from my heart, down my arm, and into my wrist on the drive back to our apartment building.
Walking up the steps toward the lobby makes me realize exactly what I’m doing.
Suddenly, everything feels loud. The stereo of my brain is turned up much too high, until the only sound left is thewhooshingthat speeds through your ears when you’re falling.
Grant squeezes my hand right as we get in the elevator, and my heart tips sideways. It’s what makes me realize I’m not falling in a way that sends me rushing toward the ground.
I’m falling straight intohim.
And as we head down the hall, I know that I’m not scared of the fall.
I’m scared of how badly I want to be caught.
