E. Blair - Falling

And now, sitting up here in my office, I can’t keep my mind off of her. I start packing my things up to head out early. It’s Saturday night, but being the holiday weekend, the place is dead.

“Hey, man,” Gavin says when he bursts into my office. “You leaving?”

“Yep.”

“We going out?”

Standing up, I start heading out when I tell him, “No. I’m gonna go home and just chill.”

“Are you serious? Dude, you avoiding me?” he asks as I make my way downstairs.

“No. I just have other shit going on, that’s all,” I explain. He wouldn’t get it if I told him, so I don’t.

He continues to follow me to the back door, but before I can open it, he steps in front of me and snaps, “Seriously. What the fuck is going on?”

“Nothing, man. Don’t take it personally.”

“Kinda hard when I’m the one you’re avoiding,” he says.

Taking a moment, I explain without telling him too much. “Gav, I’m almost thirty. I’m sick of going out all the time to just fuck random chicks. I’m tired.”

He doesn’t say anything. He’s the same age as me, and I know he’s perfectly happy doing the shit that he does, but it doesn’t make me happy anymore. It never did make me happy; it only made me numb. Stepping to the side, he walks away, throwing a, “See ya,” over his shoulder before I walk out to the parking lot.

Heading home, I decide to stop and grab a pizza and some beer to take back to my place. When I get back into my jeep, I start driving home, but quickly find myself taking a few new turns. I’m not ready to go home just yet as the urge to see her again takes over, and I wind up pulling into her driveway behind her car.

I wonder if she’s gonna be irritated that I’m just dropping by unannounced, but it’s too late now that I’ve rung her doorbell. She appeared to be less skittish about having me in her house when she invited me in after our run this morning, so I try and let that worry go.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, completely taken off guard.

I don’t even let her see an ounce of my uncertainty when I give her a playful grin and step inside. “I ran out to grab some dinner and knew you weren’t doing anything tonight, so I drove here instead of back to my place.”

“Oh . . .”

“That a problem?” I ask as I head into her kitchen.

“Ummm . . . no. I just . . .” she mumbles.

“Just what?” I ask, looking at her, cute as hell in her pajamas.

“Just surprised that’s all. Why didn’t you just text me?”

“Because I figured you would probably tell me you were studying.” I start rummaging around, opening drawers, until I find a bottle opener. Popping the caps off the beer, I hand her one as she nods, agreeing with my last statement, and I shoot her a wink before taking a sip.

“So, how was the rest of your day?” I ask as I move around her kitchen, grabbing plates and a few napkins.

“Good. I got a lot done actually,” she says as she watches me.

“Great, let’s eat then. Do you mind grabbing the beer?”

“No problem.”

Walking into her living room, we set everything down on the coffee table and make ourselves comfortable on the couch.

She opens the pizza box to grab a slice, and then turns to me, asking, “How did you know I like pineapple on my pizza?”

“I didn’t. Like I said, I got this for me before deciding to come over.”

“Oh.”

Leaning forward I take a slice and sit back to eat as I watch her do the same. The thought of being out with Gavin right now just doesn’t even compare to this—sitting here, with this girl I’m getting know. I’m enjoying it. It satisfies me in a way I never would have expected.

“So, you know what I did with my day. What about you?” she asks.

She told me this morning that she was spending the day studying then going to the studio to rehearse. “After our run, I went to the gym to do some lifting. Then later, I went to the bar to work. Had to sign off on a bunch of paperwork and inventory orders. That’s pretty much it,” I tell her.

Nodding her head, we continue to eat our dinner when I suggest, “Wanna watch something on TV?”

She picks up the remote and hands it to me. Flipping through the channels, I already know she’s a fan of MTV, so I decide to go for one of my channels. When I land on TCM and they’re playing one of my favorite movies, I set the remote down, get comfortable, and wait for it. Knowing she’s gonna tease me, I find myself already enjoying her reaction when she says, “What the heck is this?”

“You don’t know this movie?” I ask, mocking a serious tone, playing right into her.

“Does anyone know this movie?”

Smiling, I say, “Candace, it’s a classic.” Seeing the blank look on her face, I continue, “It’s ‘Double Indemnity’ from the 1940’s. It’s a great movie.”

“You watch a lot of these movies?”

Shaking my head, I tell her, “Sit back and just watch. You’ll like it.”

When she sits back with me, I start to explain the movie. “See that girl? Her name is Phyllis and that guy is an insurance agent that she is trying to seduce.”

“Why?”

“Because she wants him to murder her husband so she can collect the money from his policy.”

“Oooh, I like her already,” she playfully says, and gets me laughing.

“Just watch.”

Kicking our feet up on the coffee table, we lean back and watch the movie. After a while I feel her head drop onto my shoulder. Looking down, her eyes are closed. I don’t move for a while, scared of how she’ll react. After what happened in my car yesterday, I make sure she’s sound asleep before I slip my hand under her head and lower her onto my lap.

She curls up into a ball, and I take this moment to really look at her. Her skin is light and flawless. I gently run the back of my hand down her cheek and along her jaw. She’s soft. I knew she would be. My heart begins to beat faster at the subtle contact.

I sink down into the couch, getting comfortable, and observe the stark contrast of her dark, thick lashes as they fan across the tops of her cheekbones. Leaning my head back, I relax with finally having her close to me. The warmth of her against me is something I’ve been craving. Even though she isn’t giving this to me—I’m taking it right now—it appeases me for the time being, hoping that one day she’ll want to give this to me. That simple thought alone is enough for me to know that I’m falling hard for this girl, and that worries me, because I know better than to allow myself to feel like this. But with her, all my logic seems to dissipate.

I let her sleep for a while, but when I begin to grow tired myself, I know I need to wake her. She’s out cold when I lean over and whisper, “Candace.”

When I run my hand down her arm, she starts to stir. “Candace . . . Candace, wake up.”

Her eyes slowly flutter open and when she looks up at me, she locks them to mine. I can tell she isn’t fully awake as she continues to stare. Out of nowhere, she startles me when she lurches off of the couch, finally coherent and free from her haze.

“Are you okay?” I ask when I stand up, and as soon as I step towards her, she shoots her hands out, wanting me to stay away. She’s scared of me, and I hate that. Whatever it is she’s dealing with, whatever is causing her to react this way, I just want to comfort her, but there’s no way she’d let me if I tried.

“I’m sorry,” I say as calmly as I can, not wanting to freak her out any more than she is. “I didn’t want to leave you without you locking the door behind me. You fell asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you, so I let you sleep for a while.”

“I’m sorry,” she breathes out.