Page 9 of Lessons in Falling
The honesty in her words surprised the shit out of me.I almost choked on my own spit, that’s how much it threw me off.
When we’d first met, Valentina had been polite but playful.Charming, but never too much so.She’d been eager to pleaseme, and I’d been dying to please her.She was still all of those things—but less of them.
Last night, she’d been outright the opposite.Rude, unapologetic, and it didn’t seem like she cared about what I thought of her at all.Sure, the alcohol had played a significant role in that, and the fact she’d found a near-stranger in her room as well—but still.I wasn’t sure which version I preferred.And I could only guess which one was real.
The version I was just getting to know seemed brutally honest, too, because she did not seem embarrassed by her admission.
Meanwhile, I needed a second to process those it.The fact that I wasn’t the only one playing that night on a loop in my head whenever we locked eyes.Like now, gazes holding because I was unable—literally not capable—of looking away from her.
I needed her, I realized.The way I’d needed her that night, just a million times more desperately.It’d been too long since my fingers had danced across her skin, and I’d swallowed every sweet sound of hers with my mouth.
That was months ago,I finally choked out.Again, my brain was not consulted before I said,I could refresh your memory, Valentina.
No matter how pathetic, she seemed to like my pleading ways.Her breath shallowed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and her eyes batted open—jumping from my lips back to my eyes.
She was right there, so close, I would’ve bet my entire savings account on the fact she was about to kiss me, and I hadn’t touched that in seven years.
A good thing, apparently, because I would’ve lost it all.
Valentina shook her head, took a step back, hit the window-sill, and turned around.No,she said, resuming the search in her tote bag for fuck knows what.It seemed she needed distraction more than whatever she was looking for.I can’t,she continued, lowly.I want to—I want you to.But I can’t.She shook her head again, as if to set the decision in stone.As if the gesture was more for herself than for me.
I took a step back, and her body went from completely rigid to only slightly stiff.The only sound was her deep inhale, exhale.I still hadn’t said anything.
Caden.She spoke toward the window, eyes probably roaming the front yard and the single road that passed Alfie Dunbridge’s Summerhouse.Gone was the airy tone in her voice, the teasing lightness of it.I’m only going to say this once, and I want you to know that I mean it.
Nothing good ever followed a statement like that, but I put on my best smirk, took another step back, and leaned my forearm against the top bunk.I’m all ears.
I told my friends this is okay, because I love them, and I don’t want them to feel bad.But I’d like to make this perfectly clear—I don’t want you here.
Right.Cool.
Whiplash was an understatement.Two minutes ago, we’d been standing so close her breath had mingled with mine, her eyes had continuously flicked to my lips, and she’d undoubtedly considered the possibility of kissing me.I had already come to terms with the fact that she would—that’s how sure I’d been.That’s how wrong I’d been.
It’s funny,I snickered.You want me here so little, yetyou can’t say it to my face.What’s so interesting out there, Rhodes?
My words did exactly what they were supposed to.It only took a couple of seconds before she turned on her heels, strode over to me, and left us standing as close as we’d been three minutes ago.
Her eyes narrowed in sync with mine, and she brought her finger up to my chest.Poked it between each word as she repeated herself.I.Don’t.Want.You.Here.
But the tremble in her voice said otherwise.The way she sucked in a breath when I inched closer did, too.My lips were a hair’s breadth away from hers when I whispered,I’ll get over it.
CHAPTER 5
VALENTINA
Despite the way I’d fled our last encounter (back into the bathroom until I was sure he’d left again), there was a net-positive to Caden’s appearance.When, an hour later, we trekked into town—a walk on which I was usually either still drunk from the night before or sober enough to be violently hungover—I felt fine.No headache, no sickness, and no whinyI’ll never drink again.
At least from me.Iris, for example, was still whining plenty.
My shower had definitely helped, and the rest of the alcohol’s effects had to make way for whatever argument Caden and I had had—ifone could call anything with that amount of sexual tension arguing.Every now and then, it had felt like prolonged foreplay.
But no matter how spectacular the tension, Caden was a blindingly bright neon sign that spelled, in capital letters and with an exclamation mark behind it: NO!
There was exactly one rule to my guy-choosing, and it wasusually easy enough to follow: he can’t be friends with my friends.
Unfortunately, judging by the way Iris had locked her arm with his, laughing at something he’d said to Alfie, Caden had infiltrated my circle in less than twelve hours.
And had unknowingly become off-limits.
