Falling for You

“No, ma’am, I’m not.” I chuckle. There’s barely a shred of that kid left inside me. This year has beat him down, kicked him around, and spit on his face. If my life was a game of Jenga, I’m one wrong move from everything crashing down.

“Good.” She smirks and closes the bathroom door behind her. “I didn’t trust him.”

“He was a dick. I wouldn’t have trusted him either.” I flash her a grin then take the ten steps from the bed to the door and reach for the knob. Pulling it open, music seeps into the room. The pounding of the bass vibrates through me. I miss the quietness of Landon’s almost soundproof room. Loud noises make me anxious, which is why I used to drink so much. Nowadays, I try to stay outside where the music is barely more than a quiet hum.

“Wow, that’s loud!” Layla yells. She marches through the living room and wiggles through a crowd. I follow her.

Sam is nowhere to be seen, thank fuck, but that doesn’t mean Layla isn’t drawing the attention of wandering eyes. I step closer and shoot a back off glare at anyone who stares too long.

We step out onto the front porch, closing the door behind us and she sighs. “That’s better.”

Laughter carries from the backyard. I look over at the sound and make out the shape of five people standing around a small fire. Silhouettes move in the dark behind them, some dancing to the hum vibrating through the walls. Others just chilling. I don’t want to go over there. I don’t want to smile and socialize and pretend that life is great. It’s not. But I don’t want to leave Layla either. “Do you want a drink or something?”

“We have to go back inside for that, don’t we?”

“My truck’s over there. I’ve got a bottle of whiskey in my cooler.” I point across the grassy knoll towards the Baptist church. I took my usual spot under street light number three, the last paved spot in their lot.

“Is that the same church where Sam and Kelly screwed?”

“Yup.” I rub at the back of my neck. Suggesting we go to my truck might have been a bad idea. I may have just shot myself in the foot.

Layla looks up at the stars. Her hair falls further down her back, leaving a wet trail everywhere it touches. After a moment of silence she meets my gaze again. This time, I get a good look at her eyes. I thought they were blue last year, but tonight they seem almost white.

“I’ve never drank whiskey before. Is it good?”

The night is warm, but a cool breeze sends a chill down my spine, causing goosebumps to break out across my flesh. I rub my hands against my arms. Josh notices and drapes his arm around me. He pulls me close, his body a furnace against mine. All too quickly, I’m hot. Too hot. Unreasonably hot. The kind of hot that makes your pits sweat and, being this close, I don’t want him to think I smell bad.

Josh’s truck is at the end of the vacant lot, almost to the church. I could be wrong, but I think he’s in the same spot I first met him.

As soon as we’re close, he lets me go. The air between our bodies is cold, but I’m grateful to cool off. I step closer to the truck, to him, and lean against the driver’s side door and look up at the sky.

I thought the stars were noticeable at my aunt’s house, but here they light up the sky. Millions of fireballs burn bright, highlighting deep purple shadows in the clouds. Even on our clearest nights back home, the city lights create a smog-like filter. The sky never looks like this.

I turn my head to the sound of metal scraping against metal. Josh tosses a boot from inside his toolbox to the bed of his truck. Something else clunks, a tool maybe. After a few minutes of searching, he finds what he’s looking for and slams his toolbox shut. I watch him walk around to the tailgate and lower it. He rummages through his cooler then sits on his newly made bench.

“You coming?”

I drop my arms to my sides and smile. I don’t know how I feel hanging out with Josh. People show their true colors when they’re drunk or angry. The man I met back in March was an arrogant jerk. Sure, he made nice at the beach, but I’m pretty sure he was trying to save face.

He texted me a few times after I left. Called once too. I never answered. I didn’t see the point. My aunt made it clear when I got back home after Spring Break that the internship hadn’t worked out and I would not be welcomed back again. In my mind, there was no point in making friends I’d never see. If only I had known.

I eye the half empty bottle of whiskey beside Josh, not looking forward to shots. The only time I’ve taken shots was at my brother’s twenty-first birthday party, and I was sick for two days after. I swallow the lump in my throat, hoping that whiskey isn’t as cruel to me as vodka was.

Josh twists the cap and puts the bottle to his lips. There's an open can of soda beside him, but he doesn’t touch it. I wonder, Is that for me, but don’t ask.

After his swallow, he holds the bottle out. Shutting my eyes, I tip it back. The bitter flavor is stronger than I like. I fight the urge to spit it out and swallow with a grimace. He chuckles and holds the Coke out to me. I trade him and push the fire further down my throat. Josh tips back the bottle and takes a gallon sized swallow, as if it doesn’t singe his insides.

Without warning, the sky opens up and falls upon us. My ears hear the water droplets bouncing against the metal of his truck before my skin registers the cold rain hitting it.

Josh jumps off the tailgate and takes my hand, pulling me close behind him, then shoves me into the backseat. He slides in beside me and shuts the door.

My skin pricks, goosebumps peppering my flesh.

Josh leans over the seat and sticks the key in the ignition, then turns the heat to full blast. He hits the radio, playing a local country station and a song I’ve never heard before.

“Better?” he asks, falling back into the seat next to me.

“Yeah, thanks.” The back seat of his truck is that of any car, big enough to fit three people, but for some reason it feels small. Before the first song ends, I’m sweating, probably from the hot air, but possibly because just being beside him makes me nervous.