This Is Falling(62)

“I figured,” he says, holding a fry out for me to take. I bite it from his hand quickly, and he jerks back. “Okay, I am going to have to throw a ball in a few hours. Let’s not bite my fingers off?”

“You knew the risk,” I smirk.

“Yeah, I did,” Nate says, his tone serious now as his eyes settle on me. His attention makes me blush, so I unfold my napkin and hold it up in front of me, like a curtain. But Nate reaches for it and tears it from my hand with a chuckle. “Hey, no hiding. Why do you do that?”

“I don’t know. I just get embarrassed, that’s all,” I say, taking a big bite from my burger so I have an excuse not to talk any more.

“Well, I like to look at you, so you’re going to have to get used to it. Here, let’s practice.” Nate moves his burger and wrapper to the side and lays flat on his stomach, propping his chin up on his hands and elbows close to me while he stares with his eyes wide. He doesn’t blink for the longest time, and I do my best to hold my laughter in, just eating slowly, and dabbing the corners of my mouth with my napkin.

“The human female in her natural habitat is a unique creature. This one, barely from her parents’ den, has yet to learn how to hunt, so she relies on her gathering techniques.”

Nate is putting on what I think is supposed to be an Australian accent, though when mixed with his Southern drawl it doesn’t sound quite right. I finish the last bite of my burger and pull the water bottle from my backpack so I can take a drink to wash it down, fighting to keep my lips from curling into a smile and giving me away.

“Finished with her feast, the young lioness prepares herself for her daily mating rituals. She must find herself a lion, but to do so, she must also ward off the competition from the other members of the herd who have recently come of age. She will need to do something to stand out if she wishes to pair herself with the King of the Jungle. And the lion is waiting…”

Before he can get out the rest of his commentary, I pour the entire contents of my water bottle down the back of his shirt, and I finally let my laugh escape my lips.

“Ooooooh shit! That’s cold!” Nate says, jumping to his feet quickly, and holding the back of his shirt away from his body while he hops around.

“What do you think? That stand out enough for you?” I ask while I twist the cap onto my now empty bottle and tuck it inside my bag. Nate wrings out the dampness from his shirt a little, and then flicks drops of the water from his fingers at me, making me giggle and flinch. Then he climbs over me, straddling my waist with his knees, pushing my back down along the grass while he tickles my sides.

“Oh, you stand out, all right!” he says while I fight, albeit not very hard, to remove his hands from my sides. He loosens his grip soon, and sits up, pulling me with him and cupping my face in his hands.

“You have to get to algebra,” I say, not really wanting him to leave but knowing he can’t miss class. He just sighs, his eyes piercing me before he leans in for a long and gentle kiss.

“Did you get to go to your prom?” His question is so out-of-the-blue.

“No, that was…a school activity,” I say, trying not to let my insides twist like they usually do when I think about things I missed.

“Right. This weekend, I’m taking you to prom,” he says, standing completely now, and unwrapping his burger to take a large bite before he has to go to class.

“Oh, that’s…you don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t know what to wear,” I say, not really sure what he means, or how he could take me to a high school dance that doesn’t even happen until the spring.

“No excuses. It’s my birthday. My wish.” Dimples. Smile. Accent. I’m sunk.

I knew his birthday was coming up, but I forgot it was this weekend. I have to get him something. I should get him something, right? What do you give a guy like Nate? With Josh, it was easy—I took him to a game and just splurged on nice seats for the Diamondbacks. Maybe Nate would like something like that?

I pull my phone out while I walk to class alone, and before I can talk myself out of it, I flip to the webpage I had saved—his mother’s gallery site. I hit the contact tab and type her a message. Foolishness settles in the second I hit send, but it’s too late, so I put my phone back in my pocket and join the others filing in to the lecture hall for art history. When my phone buzzes in my pocket minutes later, I almost fumble it to the floor just getting it out.

My email alert is on, and when I open the tab, there’s already a reply from Cathy Preeter.





Rowe, so good to hear from you! I just called Dave, and he said he does know someone with season tickets in Oklahoma. I’ll email you the name and number later, and I’m sure Nate would love that for his birthday. Send Nate my love. – Cathy