The Hardest Fall

“You still want advice on what to do with the hunk in your apartment?” Jared asked after a few moments of heavy silence.

I huffed out a breath and fell back in my seat. “Yeah. Hit me. God knows I could use all the help I can get.”

His next question made me question that. “Are you attracted to him?”

“I mean…he is attractive, sure, and I have eyes. I like his smile too—I’ll give you that much—but I don’t know him well enough to say if I’m attracted to him. I don’t have a crush on him…let’s say that instead. I’m attracted to his looks, but I don’t have a crush on him. He seems nice, so I like him as a person—that sounds even better. Even if I did like him and by some dumb luck he was interested in me too, though I doubt that—”

“Of course you’d doubt it, because you’re paper bag ugly,” Jared repeated again, slowly shaking his head to emphasize his disappointment in me.

“Annnyway,” I drew out the word then, ignoring Jared, continued. “We’ll be staying in the same apartment for crying out loud, and there is no way Mark wouldn’t find out about it.”

“So it all comes back to Mark.”

Frowning, I lowered my voice and leaned forward. “No, it doesn’t, Jared. I said he is hot, and yeah, he does sound like a good person, but just because he is those two things doesn’t mean I’m gonna fall at his feet and confess my love—or lust, for that matter. I’m only acting all weird around him because of what happened freshman year and because…okay, yeah, I think he is good-looking, but that’s about it. You know that’s not a good combo for me. Don’t you remember how I was when you first talked to me in that art history class? Was I in love with you? No. That’s just who I am, how I am until I warm up to people, and what I also am is embarrassed around him. First I ask him if I can kiss him like some kindergarten kid, and then the next time he sees me, I knock over some guys’ model building and get yelled at right in front of him and his friends, including Chris, as if things couldn’t get any worse. If all that’s not enough, another year passes and here I am dropping my towel and showing my tits and plastering myself to him. I’m not mentioning the part where I attacked him because I was right to do so.”

“So, being his friend is the best idea here—we all agree on that, yes?” Kayla looked at Jared and then me. “You’ll get used to having him around. If I know you as well as I think I do, there’ll be a lot of nervous laughing and hiding out in your room in your future if you don’t do something about it. So, actually try to be his friend since you’re so adamant about not having a crush on him. Jared is good-looking and you’re not a blubbering mess around him anymore,” Kayla offered, gesturing at our friend.

“If I was interested in girls, this one would be all over me by now, so I’m not sure if I’m a good example in this situation, KayKay,” Jared chimed in.

I snorted. “Oh, please. As if. That’s all I’m saying to you: as if. Also, you wish…and last but not least, in your dreams.”

* * *

So, instead of acting casual—as Kayla had so nicely suggested—and hiding in my room whenever I could, I was going to become friends with Dylan Reed. Sounded easy enough.

It was around five in the evening when I managed to make it back to the apartment after spending several long hours in the photography lab. Before I got to turn my key and step inside, the door at the end of the hall opened and Ms. Hilda peeked out from behind the cracked door.

“Miss Clarke, is that you?”

She was eighty-five years old and her eyes worked better than mine—she knew perfectly well that it was me.

“Yes, Ms. Hilda, it’s just me,” I yelled over my shoulder, my movements urgent.

I turned the key and opened the door, hoping she wouldn’t ask me anything else and I would get to throw myself face first on the couch for a few minutes and then maybe force myself to get up and make a quick sandwich for dinner afterward before Dyl—

“Could you be a lamb and—”

Oh, not the lamb. I never wanted to be a lamb.

Please don’t say hang the curtains. Please don’t say hang the curtains.

“—hang the curtains back up?”

Hanging my head in despair, I closed the door, cursing myself for completely forgetting about her and making enough noise to wake up the dead while walking up the stairs. I walked back to stand in front of her now fully open door. “Did you wash your curtains again, Ms. Hilda?”