Oops, I've Fallen

Ha. That’s hilarious. Like you even have a choice at this point with how deep you’re in it with him, girlfriend.

In an effort to busy myself with fidgeting rather than thoughts, I look up from the table and scan the room, landing on the other side again and into the eyes of his father. He’s watching me closely, and I can’t say that I like it. My mind is a jungle, and he is a poacher. Nothing inside is safe.

“Baby, tell me what happened,” my mom says then, squeezing gently at my flesh, and suddenly, Sal’s inquisitive eyes seem like the lesser of two evils. I don’t meet them, of course, because they’re still far too keen for my liking, but they seem a lot less aggressive than they were moments ago, that’s for sure.

“Nothing, Mom,” I say again, repeating my earlier empty excuses. “I was out. That’s all.”

“Out where?” she presses. “At a club? At a bar? With a boy? Why are your clothes so torn up? I know this isn’t your normal style, Carly. Tell me what’s going on.”

Surprisingly, Sal steps forward and puts a comforting hand to my mom’s shoulder, remarking, “Give her a minute to relax and breathe, Stell. It’s been pure chaos since she got back. Girl would probably like a minute to herself. Maybe even a trip to the bathroom to splash some water on her face.”

I nod frantically. Yes, Sal, yes. I want that very much. Also, I’m in love with you.

“Please, Mom. Just a minute, okay?”

Stella’s eyes are uneasy and a little annoyed, but she finally pulls away from my arm with a loving pat. “Okay, fine. I’ll go call a few people and let them know about Betty,” she says, petty excitement making her glow beautifully.

I nod. “That’s a great idea. Maybe you can even do a video on the Tok.”

Quickly, I jump up from the table and head for the hallway, jerking my head at Ryan when he looks up at me. I implore him to read my mind with violently wide and pleading eyes.

Figure out a way to meet me in the bathroom. Stat.

I power walk down the hall and close the door behind myself, locking it. Immediately, I see the error of my ways, for if Ryan is to meet me in the bathroom, he’s going to need to be able to open the door. I turn the small latch back the other way.

Quickly, I back up until my bare thighs run into the cool granite counter of the vanity top and bring my fingers to my mouth to chew. I don’t normally gnaw on my nails, but right now, it feels like one of the best ideas I’ve ever had. Maybe if I turn my hands into bloody stumps, there won’t be any more room to ask questions about my clothes.

I stare at the doorknob, willing it to turn.

Come on, Ryan. Come on. Get in here, get in here, get in here.

It’s amazing, though, because when the knob actually turns and the door swings open to reveal the man I’m waiting for, I still jump at least a foot in the air like I didn’t know it was going to happen.

He doesn’t hesitate to step inside, sweeping the door closed behind himself and locking it once more.

It’s cramped with the two of us in here—it’s just a teensy little powder-room-style bathroom—and the front of his body hums from its position six inches away.

Gah. Warm, beautiful, muscle-filled heat. I want to rub my face against it like a cat and purr.

He stares at my lips, and I stare at his, and before I know it, his hands are sinking into the fall of my red hair at the back of my neck and bringing my face upward. Our lips touch, and my mouth opens in reflex.

He feels so good. Scary good. So good that if I’m honest, I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced anything better.

Not sure? You’re sure, you liar, because you most certainly haven’t.

I clamp my hands on to his hips and fuse his body to my own and participate eagerly as he dances his tongue around the space of my mouth. It’s titillating and stomach-flipping, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same for kisses after the ones I’ve shared with Ryan Miller.

He’s the kind of guy that…just… I don’t know. He’s the kind of guy that turns worlds upside down—the kind of guy that makes you flip your own world upside down.

When you fall for a guy like him, you don’t get back up.

Neither one of us has admitted it aloud, but judging by his remark about the Life Alert button, we’re both lying on the floor holding our hips and waiting on a rescue that may never come.

It’s hard, but eventually, I recognize the reason I demanded his company in this bathroom—and the fact that it’s not so that we can once again get it on—and I shove him away with two hands at his chest.