This Is Falling(75)
“Yeah, probably. But I’m gonna go apologize anyway,” I say, turning around and walking backward with my arms out. Ty turns to face me, his hands clasped behind his neck.
“Pussy,” he teases.
She’s still fuming. I can tell by the way her legs are bent, perched on the dugout in the exact same position they were when I walked away a few hours ago. Her hands are folded neatly in her lap, and her eyes are zoned out, looking at the field in front of her. I walk over to her slowly, and I stop when I’m two seats away. I sit down, putting my feet up like hers, and we both sit there silently for several minutes, watching the grounds crew work to ready the field for the two teams playing early in the morning.
I’d like to be the first one to speak, but I don’t know what the hell to say. There are so many things I need to tell her, and so many massive fuck-ups over the last twenty-four hours that I need to make amends for—I don’t know which one takes priority. So I sit there, patiently waiting for her to give me a sign, to tell me what she needs to hear first, what she needs to hear most.
“You called me your friend,” she says finally, and my heart squeezes tightly. She still won’t look at me, her eyes following the two men on the field who are pulling up bases and re-chalking lines. I need her to see me. I still don’t know what I’m going to say, but I know the words will come as soon as I can get her eyes on mine, so I get up and hop on top of the dugout so I can walk over to where her feet are resting. I sit so my legs are straddling her feet, and then I wrap my hands around her shoes, mostly to keep her from kicking me.
“I think we both know that you and I were never friends, Rowe.” She shifts her eyes to mine quickly, holding my attention with this silent stare for even longer minutes.
“What are we then, Nate? What is this…this, whatever we’re doing? What are we to you?” All I want to do is move her goddamned legs out of my way so I can get to her mouth and kiss her, but she’ll run if I rush this.
“I can’t tell you what we are Rowe. I can’t tell you that, because that entirely depends on you. But I can tell you what you are to me. And it’s not the word friend. It’s so far beyond the word friend that I’m scared shitless right now to say it out loud, because I’m afraid you don’t want to hear it. You are the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night. You are the face in all of my dreams and the smile I see when I close my eyes. Your voice when you sing in the shower late at night, when you think you’re alone, is like music to my ears—and I know, that’s totally weird that I listen to you, but don’t interrupt my flow, we can get back to that later,” I say, holding a hand up to stop her.
“You’ve got me all twisted in here,” I say, running my palm over my chest. “I don’t know what to do, how to act, and what to say. Clearly, I don’t have a fucking clue what to say! It all comes out like garbage, because there aren’t any words that are good enough. And I worry—God, Rowe, I worry all the time that something I do or say is going to break you. And I can’t have that, because you’ve come so far, and you’ve come this far with me. And it’s such a gift, the way you’ve trusted me, given this part of yourself to me. And I know, I was kind of…well, shit, Rowe…I was crazy when that Tucker dude was over here, because I see how he looks at you. Hell, it’s the same way I look at you. It’s the way you deserve to be looked at—admired and adored. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to give up everything just because I’m afraid. Because I know the second I walk away, a hundred Tuckers, who all probably deserve you more than I do, will line up to take my place, and I will hate every last one of them. And I’ll hate myself for giving up.”
“What are you saying, Nate?” Her eyes haven’t moved from mine the entire time. I don’t even think she’s blinked. But I can see her heart on her sleeve, her eyes just waiting to let the tears fall. She’s so afraid I’m going to break her right here, right now.
“I love you, Rowe. That’s it. I love you. I love you. I love you!” I stand to my feet and shout those words, getting the attention of the grounds crew, who all whistle and mock me—as they should. I jump down and swing her feet sideways so I can kneel in front of her, my face pressed flat against her lap while I speak. “God, Rowe—that feels so good to say. I love you, and I meant it the first time I said it. I never should have taken it back, and I should have said it sooner.”