Fear of Falling (17 page)

Read Fear of Falling Online

Authors: S. L. Jennings

Tags: #Romance, #Young Adult, #Contemporary, #Adult

BOOK: Fear of Falling
5.98Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

His hands were suddenly cupping mine, causing me to look up into his face. He was giving me that look, yet it was laced with something else. Something
more.
Something that made my insides clench with desire and my belly do somersaults. The feeling was new and unknown, and it both thrilled and terrified me equally.

“What’s this?” he said just above a whisper, picking up the origami flower formerly known as a paper advertisement.

I shrugged. “It’s a habit. When I’m nervous or stressed, I tend to do it without even thinking about it.”

A frown marred his features, yet he never let go of my hands. “Are you nervous or stressed with me?”

I shook my head and gave him a slight smile. “No, you don’t stress me out. But you do make me nervous. In a good way,” I replied, repeating my words from last week.

“Hmmm, I wasn’t aware there was a good kinda nervous.”

We sat there for a few more seconds, his hands still housing mine, before Ms. Patty arrived with our food.

“Now here y’all go, just the way you like ‘em, Blaine,” she announced, placing giant platters of waffles covered with butter, fresh blueberries and whipped cream, with sides of bacon and sausage in front of us. My eyes grew twice their size.

“Now you take care of this young lady, ya hear?” she told Blaine, smiling at me sweetly. “Kami, you come by any time you like. And if this rascal gives you any trouble at all, you let me know, ok?”

I returned her smile with my own, and nodded. “I’ll be sure to do that, Ms. Patty. Thank you.”

Ms. Patty gave Blaine one last swat with her rag and turned to tend to the masses.

“She likes you,” Blaine remarked, unrolling the silverware in his napkin.

I rolled my eyes playfully. “She probably says that to all your dates.”

“Yeah right,” Blaine scoffed. “First off, Ms. Patty doesn’t do fake. If she doesn’t like you, you will know it. And secondly, I’ve never brought a date here. Ever.”

I tore my eyes away from the mountain of food in front of me and gave him a skeptical look. There was no trace of humor or deceit on his gorgeous face, and it quickly rendered me speechless. What could I possibly say to that?

“Eat up. You’ll need your energy for later,” he instructed, pointing his fork towards my plate.

“Energy?”

Blaine just chuckled and shook his head, taking a giant bite of blueberry-smothered waffles.

After nearly polishing off a plate of the best waffles I had ever had and earning an
“I told you so”
from Blaine, we said our goodbyes to Mavis and Ms. Patty and headed back out to Blaine’s truck. I was beyond stuffed, so I was grateful that Blaine took it upon himself to lift me back onto my seat. I felt bad for him; I must’ve packed on at least 10 pounds in the past hour. Ms. Patty’s food was more than worth it though.

Housing developments, strip malls, and restaurants became scarcer as Blaine drove east, the sight of thick, lush foliage whizzing by in the darkness. He turned onto a dirt-paved road surrounded by tall trees, and a niggling feeling in the back of my head set off alarm bells.

“Um, where are we going?” I asked with a trembling voice. Images of my body chopped up and stuffed into dozens of Ziploc baggies flashed in my mind. I shivered despite the warm temperature.

I felt his warm hand on my knee without even seeing him move. “You’ll see. Don’t worry; I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe with me.”

I eased back into the seat, his touch radiating comfort and tranquility. It didn’t feel like a sexual touch, being that he didn’t stray from his position on my bare knee. It felt soothing…calming. It was all
Blaine
.

When he finally stopped the truck, I noticed we were at a field of some sort. I didn’t really understand why he had brought me here. It was nearly pitch-black out. Suddenly, the earlier vision of my gruesome demise didn’t seem so far off.

Blaine reached behind his seat and recovered two Mason jars, handing me one.

“And what do you expect me to do with this?” I asked.

“Catch lightning bugs, of course,” he smiled, the lights of the dash illuminating his face.

“Lightning bugs? You mean fireflies? Why would you want to catch them?”

“Tomato, tom
a
to. I can’t believe you never caught them before. I know y’all had lightning bugs down in ATL.”

“I didn’t grow up there,” I replied, shaking my head. Without even thinking, I was telling him the truth. I was letting him in. “I’m from California, where they’re called
fireflies
.”

“Ah, makes sense. Ok, city mouse, time to show you how it’s done.”

He slid out of the truck and came over to my side to help me out. Then he took my hand and led me out into the field. “Look,” he instructed, pointing out into the darkness. Dozens of tiny glowing insects swirled around us, creating a field of twinkle lights. I could hear the buzz from their wings, harmonizing with the sounds of crickets and distant night critters. The combination was oddly peaceful, and I let myself soak it all in.

“When I was a boy, my mother used to bring me out here at night so we could catch lightning bugs. We’d place bets to see who could catch the most. I think she always let me win.”

I could almost hear the smile in his voice, and his accent suddenly sounded thicker. Rich with emotion. He was that little boy again, catching fireflies with his mom.

“She told me that you would always find the most lightning bugs when a summer storm was approaching. They were like a warning, illuminating the sky before the real lightning struck. They were nature’s omen. The change in the atmosphere, the moisture in the air, some unseen current…they knew something big was coming. She swore she could predict the weather just by watching the lightning bugs. The more there were, the worse the storm.”

“Sounds like a pretty resourceful woman,” I remarked.

“She was. She knew a bit about everything. I never knew my dad, so she was all I had. And I believed every word she said.”

His use of past tense did not go unnoticed by me. I squeezed his hand a little tighter and stepped into his side. “I’m sorry.”

I could see Blaine shaking his head in the darkness. “Don’t be. She died a long time ago. I believe I got her best years. Any more than that would have been selfish of me.”

Strangled, silent moments passed between us as I digested Blaine’s words. I imagined a little boy with expressive brown eyes and messy russet hair, crying for his mommy. Reaching out for the one person who he loved more than anything in the world. His lifeline. Alone, frightened and utterly helpless. He had lost his everything.

I didn’t even realize how deeply his words had touched me until I felt a hot tear roll down my cheek. I don’t know why Blaine shared that with me, but I was thankful. It reminded me that pain was necessary. Pain was life’s curveball. Without it, we would never appreciate what it felt like to be loved.

“Come on, we’ve got some lightning bugs to catch,” he said, looking down at me with a mournful smile. I never wanted to kiss him more than in that moment.

After Blaine taught me how to capture the bugs in the Mason jar, we spent the better part of an hour running through the field to see who could catch the most with only the truck’s headlights to brighten our efforts. Despite jumping at every creak or rustle of the trees, I did pretty well for a first-timer. Blaine was a madman. I spent several minutes just watching him go crazy, nabbing the mystical little pests with a childlike fervor.

When we were both exhausted and sticky from the humidity, Blaine spread a quilt in the bed of his truck where we lay on our backs side by side. He turned on the truck’s radio to a popular station, the sounds of OneRepublic, and our laughter the only noise to be heard for miles.

“Ok, before we tally up the results, would you like to make a little wager?” he asked holding up his jar of flickering insects.

“Oh please! You know you won. Betting against you would be stupid!”

I felt him shrug beside me. “You never know. Come on; humor me.”

I sighed. “Fine. If I win…” I scrunched my forehead in concentration until a stroke of genius sent me into hysterics. “You have to perform at the next Open Mic Night!” Blaine’s horrified expression only fueled my laughter, causing tears to roll down the sides of my face.

“Ok, ok, so you want to play it like that, huh?” he said loudly, trying to drown out my giggles. “If I win, you have to spend the night with me again.”

His words quickly quieted my guffaws, and I rolled over onto my side to assess his expression. “You’re serious.”

“Absolutely. For some strange reason, I have a sudden appreciation for sleepovers.” Blaine rolled over onto his side as well, putting us face to face. “And I do mean sleep. No funny business, young lady,” he jibed.

“And here I thought you were going to wager a kiss,” I said just above a whisper.

“Nah. No need,” he replied, matching my hushed tone. “I was gonna do that anyway.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

This.

All I needed was
this
.

Her warm, sweet breath fanned across my face as she sighed with anticipation. I could almost hear her heartbeat stutter over the music. Hooded, sultry eyelids blinked slowly, those emerald green retinas sparkling under the moonlight.

This.

This moment was the only one that mattered. This woman in front of me was the only one that existed.

I wanted to make Kami mine in every way, shape, and form. I wanted to claim every moan, every whimper, every shudder. But for right now, I would settle for
this
. I would savor
this.
I would put every ounce of the concentrated desire exploding in every synapse like fireworks on the 4
th
into
this.

This.

I couldn’t see anything beyond
this
. Beyond her. Beyond us.

I just had to make her feel
this
too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I always thought of myself as physically, well… normal. As emotionally and mentally fucked up as I was, I almost took pride in the fact that sex was never the issue. It was a welcomed distraction. An outlet for all the suppressed aggression and pain. I could be completely detached and let my carnal instincts take the reins. I could be as expressive as I wanted to be.

Other books

King's Man and Thief by Christie Golden
Ain't No Angel by Henderson, Peggy L
Driven to Ink by Olson, Karen E.
The Sentinel by Jeremy Bishop
The Wrong Door by Bunty Avieson