The Girl Who Fell(49)

“I don’t need a big meal. I’m kind of craving popcorn.”

He lights. “Yeah?”

I nod.

He leads me to the kitchen where we microwave popcorn together. When the smell of the hot kernels permeates the kitchen I realize I’m starving.

With a huge bowl in hand, Alec and I return to the living room and I pop a kernel into my mouth. I resist scarfing the entire bowl.

He picks up the remote, navigates to Netflix. “At least I can’t screw this up.”

“You didn’t screw anything up.”

“Says you.” He selects a movie called Love Actually. “I saw this title and thought of you.”

“What’s it about?”

“Um, if I had to guess?” He throws me a delicious smile. “Love.”

“You make that leap all by yourself?”

Alec laughs and grabs for my free hand. He turns it palm up and traces the lines there. Slowly, tenderly. I watch Alec as he studies me, learns me. He concentrates his stare, clears his throat. “I don’t really know what love is, but I think it might mean being happier than you’ve ever been in your life. I could probably Google a more articulate definition.” His one finger follows the long line spanning my palm before looking up at me, his eyes darkly fevered. He spiders his fingers into mine, brings our clasped hands to his chest and rests them, together, over his heart.

“I’m so happy when I’m with you too.”

Alec breathes a heavy sigh. “You’re not just saying that because I’ve made it all awkward?”

“No. Of course not.”

“And you’re not just pitying me because I’m a shitty cook who can’t even do something nice for his girlfriend?”

“Stop.”

“Seriously, Zephyr. What do you even see in me? I’m some pathetic jock loser who got kicked out of school and will probably be blacklisted from any decent college. I have zero choice for my own future and I’m completely incapable of showing you what you mean to me.”

“I love you, Alec.” The words are out before I can stop them. Still, they feel right. Hanging in the quiet space between us. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

He presses his temple against mine, his face so close. “For real?”

“Nothing’s ever felt so real.” My love for him is a deep blue love. So blue it is black. Like an ocean under the ocean. The beginning and the end.

He purrs his cheeks against mine until his lips find my mouth. “I love you too. So much.” He kisses me and it is somehow new, weighted with this bold promise between us. When we pull away, my head is light. Alec nudges me closer and I want him to lay me on the couch. I want to feel his weight on top of me. I want to hear him say those three words a million times while the sun rises and sets around us. He slowly removes the bowl from my lap and my skin readies to be touched, explored. It is the height of anticipation how much I want to melt into him in this moment, so when he reaches for the remote I feel cheated.

“Let’s see if anyone in the movie has it as good as us.” He cuddles me closer, pulls a blanket over us.

This should be all I want. A movie with an amazing boy. A boy who loves me. Loves. Me. So why do I want so much more than a movie? How is it that I ache for his kiss, his breath against my skin? I want his fingers to bump over the small cut his watch made. I want the surge of heat he brings when we’re alone.

I try to push away the tick of resentment as the movie’s opening music starts.





Chapter 16


Thanksgiving is impossibly weird. Mom feels it too, like the pulses of all of our movements are different, hurried and slowed all at once. Mom overcompensates by talking too much and too fast. I want to tell her it’s okay. That silence is okay. That I feel Dad’s absence the way she does. That I miss him. But I don’t say anything because my brain is a record scratching over the sounds of yesterday. The music of Alec saying I love you.

My phone vibrates and I pull it from the pocket of my hoodie just enough to read Alec’s text. Happy T-Day.

Happy T-Day to you, I respond.

It’s just u and ur mom today?

Yup. In this unexpected way, I feel closer to Alec knowing his father won’t be at the Thanksgiving table either.

Try 2 have fun.

Before I can respond his next message pops up, one that seizes my breath. I want u all 2 myself this weekend.

Oh. I swallow hard as Mom bumps my hip to persuade me away from the swing of the stove door. She opens it, bends to baste the bird that looks way too big for just the two of us. The rush of oven heat campfire-warms the back of my legs. I pull out my phone while she’s not looking.

Done.