The Hardest Fall

“So the best thing you could come up with was telling her I was gay?”

Another snort escaped me and I blushed. “No harm, no foul, right? It seemed like the best idea at the time. At least this way she won’t camp out in front of our door.”

“You couldn’t tell her we were just friends?”

Right, I was gonna be friends with him.

“Her mind doesn’t work like that. Boys and girls can’t be friends. She thinks boys are after one thing and one thing only, and since you’re a boy…she’d think you’re after my…”

“After your…” He trailed off, waiting for me to fill the silence. I wasn’t going to do that.

“I think you get the picture.”

“Maybe I do get the picture.” His lips tipped up. “Thanks, Zoe. Looks like we’re gonna have a lot of fun.”

As his eyes bored into mine, we sat there like two idiots, smiling at each other.

“Why are you smiling like that?” he asked with a chin lift. I stopped smiling and touched my lips with my fingertips. Was something wrong with my smile?

“Why are you smiling like that?” I shot back.

An eyebrow went up, and the lone eyebrow lift combined with that damn smile…it was enough to make my heart skip a beat.

“This is how I smile,” Dylan answered.

“Well…it’s…too big.”

Zoe. Oh, Zoe. You poor poor child.

His dark blue eyes were sparkling with laughter and those lips tipped even higher. One second stretched into two, and then two seconds turned into a staring contest. What the hell was he thinking? I didn’t know him well enough to make a good guess, and it got harder to keep my eyes locked on his with each passing second. I was such a sore loser, so there was no way I’d be the first one to look away.

After what felt like an hour of the weirdest staring contest—which I won, thank you very much—he shook his head and rubbed his hand over his short hair.

“What?” I asked quietly, genuinely curious to hear what he was thinking.

He sighed and got up. “Nothing.”

“No, tell me. What?”

Dylan hesitated.

“You remember those people we talked about?” I prompted. “The ones we don’t like?” A quick nod. “I don’t like people who don’t finish their sentences either.”

“I didn’t start a sentence.”

I tapped a finger to my temple. “You started it in here.”

That earned me a warm chuckle. “You keep doing things I’m not expecting you to do. It throws me off, that’s all.”

“Is that a bad thing or a good thing?”

“Haven’t decided yet.”

“Let’s not waste your time—let’s agree that it’s a good thing.”

I caught the twitch of his lips as he leaned down to hook his bag over his shoulder. “You think so?”

“Oh yeah. I’ll keep you on your toes.” I pushed myself up from the couch to stand next to him. “So we’re good? Buddies? You don’t mind that I told her you’re gay?”

“Buddies?”

If he wanted to focus on that… “Sure, buddies—best friends, pals, mates…I’ll let you choose.” I lightly punched his arm, and then immediately hated myself for it.

I, Zoe Clarke, was officially the weirdest girl alive.

Why didn’t the ground open up and swallow me when I needed it the most? Couldn’t be that hard.

Looking down at where I’d punched his arm then back at me, he gave me another one of his infectious smiles that stopped me in my tracks every single time. “Buddies it is then.”

Chapter Seven

Dylan

It was only a few days into my move when I started to get back into my routine—or more like a new routine. We had a home game in two days and I was more than ready to play. I was doing my third set of push-ups when I looked up and saw Zoe rubbing her eyes as she walked straight into a wall, missing the bathroom door by ten inches or so.

“Fuck!” she hissed out in a low voice, this time rubbing her shoulder.

I dropped my head and tried to keep in my laughter. When I looked back up, I saw her looking over her shoulder toward my room right before she hurried into the bathroom and gently closed the door.

Two hundred twenty-three.

Two hundred twenty-four.

Two hundred twenty-five.

I heard the door click open then careful footsteps followed. When there was a loud gasp, I lifted my head, my gaze slowly making its way up her long smooth legs. Her hand was clutched over her chest and she was doing that deer in the headlights thing again. I smiled.

“Good morning, Zoe.”

Letting go of her chest, she pulled at the hem of her t-shirt and took a few side steps toward the kitchen. Her eyes though—they stayed put on my body.

“Hello to you too. You scared the shit out of me.”

I ducked my head and chuckled quietly. “I can see that.”

“Uh, what’s going on here?” she asked in a rough voice still laced with sleep.