The Year We Fell Down (23 page)

When we made it to the third floor landing, Hartley set me down with a sigh. “Half-time break.” He sat down next to me and dug his thumbs into the muscles of his injured leg.

“The extra weight is killing you, isn’t it?” I asked. Another night, another disaster. All I’d wanted was to have a beer with the team, but I’d made a mess of things.

“It was already sore,” he said.

“Liar.” I grabbed my own calf and set it down onto a stair below me. Then I did the same with my other one. Then I pressed myself up with my arms and dropped my butt down onto the next step. Then I started over — move one leg, move the other, scoot down a step. And so on.

I got to the bottom quickly, pausing only once when a group of girls opened the front door and charged up the stairs. “Hi, Hartley!” they sang out as they went by.

“Evening, ladies.” His voice was warm and casual, as if there was nowhere else he’d rather be than sitting in a grimy stairwell with his gimpy friend.

After they passed by and out of sight, I descended quickly to the bottom stair.

“You know,” he said, stepping around me, fetching my chair and pulling it over to the bottom step. “You made that look easy.”

“Great,” I said, wiping my dirty hands on my pants. “But I just hate…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence for fear that I’d start crying. I
hated
being that girl who crawls away from the party. I
hated
being the girl who needs rescuing. I
hated
being Hartley’s little gimpy pal. Watching
The Princess Bride
over and over again was much more palatable than this brand of mortification.

“I know,” he said under his breath. He bent over to pick me up, but I pushed him away. I did a transfer maneuver that would have made Pat proud — pulling myself into the chair in one smooth motion.

Hartley turned me around, pushing my chair toward the door.

“We have to do the stoop backwards,” I reminded him.

“We do everything backwards, Callahan,” he said.

I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, and I didn’t ask.

—
Hartley

When we reached the flagstone path in the Beaumont courtyard, Corey tried to wave me off. “You can go back upstairs,” she said.

“You’re drunk, Callahan. I’m going to walk you.”

“You’re babying me,” she complained.

“Huh. Well then I’ve babied every single one of my friends at some point, and most of them puke on me. Bridger does it weekly.” We went on in silence for a couple of minutes before I had to ask, “what were you
thinking
, Callahan?”

“I wasn’t, okay? I just wanted to go to the party, for once. Why do I have to plan every minute of my life three hours in advance? Nobody else does.” The courtyard was so quiet that her voice echoed off the walls. “Damn it. I’m whining.”

“Everyone has their shit to shovel,” I mumbled. “How was the game, anyway?”

“Fine. Tie. 3-3.”

“Did you score?”

“Of course I did.”

I laughed. “Can’t believe I even bothered to ask.”

“
Seriously
,” Corey agreed, slurring the word a little bit.

When I got her to her own room, I hung back in the doorway. She wheeled into the empty common room and the turned her chair around to face me.

The silence between us felt unnatural, and her pretty face was as sad as I’ve ever seen it. I fought the urge to cross the room and… I don’t know what. The urge to take care of her was nearly overwhelming. What I really wanted to do was gather her up and hold her. It didn’t seem fair that the best person I knew would be so sad and lonely on a Friday night.

She tipped her head to the side, revealing a span of creamy neck. “I’m sorry I ruined your evening.”

“You couldn’t ever.” Without thinking, I took two steps into the room. Fuck. What I really wanted to do was run my fingers through her hair, and kiss the place just behind her jaw. And then, kiss a few dozen other places.

Fuck. Me.

All I did, though, was to place a single kiss the top of her head. She smelled like strawberries mixed with chlorine. “Goodnight, Callahan,” I said, my voice rough. Then I did the necessary thing. I turned around and headed for the door.

“Hartley?”

I turned around only when I was safely at the door. “Yes, beautiful?”

She rested one soft cheek in her hand. “Why do you always call me Callahan?”

The question stopped me cold, because I didn’t really want to think about the answer. “Why do you always call me Hartley?” I countered.

“Everyone calls you Hartley. But you’re the only one who calls me Callahan.”

It was just my luck the she could be drunk and logical at the same time. The reason was simple, but I wasn’t going to say it. I called her Callahan because it made her sound more like one of the guys. I’d been trying to set a tone for our friendship. But it was just another lie I’d told myself. I was finding out that there were quite a few of those.

“Because it’s your name.” I cleared my throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some of my own shit I need to shovel.” At that, I turned around once and for all, and got the fuck out of there.

Chapter Nineteen:
You Deked Me

—
Corey

“Oh, my
head
,” I complained the next morning, crutching towards the dining hall for brunch.

“You should have taken a couple of Advil before bed,” Dana pointed out.

“If there were things I could redo about last night, that wouldn’t even be near the top of the list.”

“That bad, huh?”

“It was just embarrassing. I had to be rescued. By Hartley.”

Dana smiled. “And we know how much you enjoy being rescued.”

“And by
him
. Ugh. And then I had to listen to Stacia complain about it. Then I’m pretty sure he went back over to her place afterwards to do the horizontal mambo.” I had lain in my bed last night, watching the room spin, and trying not picture his big hands removing her fancy nightgown.

“Look on the bright side,” Dana said as we approached the Beaumont gate. “It’s waffle day. Shall I meet you inside?”

I shook my head. “Today I’m taking the stairs. I really need the practice.”

Ten minutes later things were looking up. I’d climbed the stairs without tripping or panicking. And Dana and I got our favorite table near the door. I was just finishing my waffle when Daniel slid his tray next to mine. “Morning, lovelies,” he said. “Can I sit?”

“Of course,” I said. “Dana, this is Daniel. He’s the captain of our water polo team. Daniel, this is my roommate, Dana.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Daniel said. “It would be an even greater pleasure if you would join the team.”

Dana laughed. “Sports and I do not get along.”

“Inner tube water polo is not a sport, it is a calling.” He aimed his crinkle-eyed smile at Dana, and I thought I saw her flush. Dana had a thing for British accents. “We have nice parties afterwards.” Then he turned to me. “You disappeared last night, Corey.”

“I did?” It was funny to think that he hadn’t noticed my departure. I always assume that my awkward comings and goings were as vivid as neon.

“Did you leave before or after the fireworks?” Daniel asked.

“What fireworks?”

“Ah…” His expression took on the flavor of conspiracy. He swiveled around to look over both shoulders before continuing. “Your friend Hartley and his ice queen had a spat in the hallway. It was quite the blow out, really. Very theatrical.”

Dana leaned forward in her chair. “What happened?”

“Well…”

Just then, Allison set her tray down across from Daniel. “Good morning!”

“Indeed,” he agreed. “I was just telling Corey about the neighborhood brawl. She missed it.” He leaned in. “It began with Stacia shrieking ‘Nobody dumps me, Hartley!’ for all the world to hear.”

I felt my heart skip a beat, and Dana gasped. “He dumped her?”

Allison clapped her hands with glee. “He did. But not before she whipped out the L word. But then he said that if she loved him she wouldn’t be fucking her…” Allison broke off to laugh. “…Her ‘Italian Stallion’ all over Europe.”

I just sat there, dumbfounded, while my hope fairy flew in through the open door, wrestling with the duct tape across her mouth.

“Wow,” Dana breathed. “Stacia must be pissed."

“Oh, she is,” Allison nodded. “She went right from ‘I love you’ to ‘you were a big mistake.’ And he said ‘my work here is done,’ and then he left.”

“And then we all started placing bets,” Daniel said, folding a slice of bacon into his mouth.

“Bets on what?” I asked.

“On which of them will pair up first,” Allison said. “My money is on Stacia, because she’s all about her image. She has to have man candy on her arm. Now, the line of women waiting for Hartley to be single is pretty long. But he won’t replace her right away. At least I hope he doesn’t. I need time to line up my shot.” She mimed throwing a ball into a polo net. “A girl can dream, anyway.”

That was the moment Hartley walked into the dining hall, and the four of us looked up just quickly enough to make it clear that we’d been talking about him. My stomach did a little flip flop as I looked up at the newly single Hartley.

Easy
, I cautioned myself.
There’s no reason to get your hopes up
.

But my hope fairy ripped the tape off her mouth and yelled,
YES THERE IS!

Daniel wiped his mouth. “You look a little banged up, mate.” And it was true. Hartley’s eyes were red and tired.

“I may have done a little drinking late last night.” He limped around the table, circling behind Daniel and Dana to stand beside me. He dug a little pill bottle out of his pocket and tapped a couple of tablets into his palm. Tossing them in his mouth, he picked up my juice glass and drained it.

“Hey!” I protested, out of habit.

“Bad night?” Daniel asked.

Hartley shook his head. “Pretty good one, actually. But everyone I wanted to talk to was asleep, except for Bridger and his bottle of Bourbon. Hang on.” He walked my glass over to the juice dispenser and refilled it. When he came back, I could see that he was limping badly. And that would be my fault, of course.

“Your knee,” I said when he got back.

Hartley shrugged. “It’s just stiff. I woke up face down on Bridger’s floor this morning. Good times.” Then he put his fingertips under my chin, tipping my face up, and frowned. He took the bottle back out of his pocket and tapped two more tablets onto my tray. “Shake off that hangover, Callahan. We have plans tonight.”

My pulse leaped. “Since when?”

Hartley put two hands on the table and bent down, his eyes level with mine. “Since now.” Before I could register my surprise, his lips were on mine. The kiss was gentle, and over much too quickly. He straightened up, leaving me reeling. “Don’t make me beg, Callahan. It’s hard on the knee.” And then he walked away, into the kitchen.

There was a deep silence at our table for a moment, punctuated by a squeal from Dana. I felt myself turning a dark shade of red.

“Already?” Allison gaped.

Daniel snickered. “Looks like Corey lined up her shot before the whistle blew.”

It was just like Hartley to plant a kiss on me without filling in the details. I wanted to yell, “WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?” at the top of my lungs. But I’m a coward. So the question I texted him was a small one.

Hartley?

Yes, beautiful?

Where are we going tonight?

You’ll find out later
, he replied.
Dress is VERY casual. Take your sticks, not your chair. We’re riding the van
.
Meet me @8 at Beaumont gate
.

I spent the day with an entire flock of butterflies in my stomach.

“What do you think it could be?” Dana asked for the tenth time. She was painting my toenails pink.

“I don’t KNOW!” I yelped. And that wasn’t even the biggest question in my heart.

What did it
mean?

Dana read my mind, which probably wasn’t difficult. “He dumped her for you. It’s
true
, Corey. He grew a pair of balls and did it.”

My stomach lurched again. I wanted so badly for it to be true. But when was the last time I got exactly what I wanted?

“Why won’t you tell me where we’re going?” I asked as we waited for the gimpmobile. I was feeling positively giddy, standing next to Hartley, ready to embark on his strange little adventure.

But all he would give me was a maddening grin. And when the van turned up, he asked the driver to take us to the intersection of Sachem and Dixwell. But I didn’t know the city map all that well, and couldn’t guess what was there.

To my enduring surprise, the van stopped in front of the hockey arena.