The Hardest Fall
“Unflushed toilets and saggy pants, got it.”
There was something about her. Maybe it was how open she sounded, so honest and real, or maybe it was the way she talked like she couldn’t get the words out fast enough…the way she quickly looked away every time our gazes clashed, the way her hands seemed to be constantly busy with something around her—the pillow, the olive green watch on her wrist, the hem of her t-shirt. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but something made me feel relaxed around her, like this wasn’t the first time we’d ever sat down and enjoyed a pointless, simple conversation.
“I don’t want you to shut up. I like this,” I admitted without a second thought. Why lie when I was enjoying her so much? “I’m gonna have to agree on entitled people, but my biggest pet peeve is actually people who chew loudly, especially when they’re chewing gum. I’ve come to blows with a few of the guys on the team because of it. Now they all chew gum whenever they wanna piss me off. The smacking sound…fuck no. I hope you’re not one of them. If you are, stop it, or I can’t promise it won’t get ugly.”
“Sir, yes sir,” she deadpanned with a serious but amused expression on her face.
“Another one is when people play with their phone all the damn time, like it’s glued to their hand or some shit.”
“My dad is the same. We actually have a rule about that. If we’re having dinner—and he always insists on eating together, whether it’s in front of the TV or at the table—I can’t touch my phone. The same thing goes if we’re having a conversation. He hates when I stare down at my phone while I’m talking with him.”
“I don’t like people who lie,” I said.
“I don’t like liars either.”
“People who don’t love animals.”
“Oh, yeah. I wouldn’t trust them with anything. So basically it sounds like we don’t like people very much.”
“Well, we have that in common, so that’s good.”
Resting her wrists on her crossed legs, she fidgeted in her seat. “I believe it’s my turn to ask something.”
“Go ahead.”
“Who do you wanna be?”
“I’ll be a pro football player. You?”
“I’ll be a professional photographer.”
We smiled at each other. I liked that we were both so sure about our futures.
“What’s your favorite spot?” I asked.
“As in, my favorite spot…to go to?”
“Yeah, and don’t tell me it’s the library or anywhere near campus.”
She raised her eyebrow at me, pairing it with a little grin on her face. “Now who’s being judgmental? It’s not the library. It’s actually the beach. I don’t have a long list at all, but it’s probably one of the few things I love about L.A., especially when it’s a little deserted. A few people here and there is okay, but I hate when it’s too crowded. Santa Monica can be a bit much. It’s even better if it’s closer to sunset. And yeah, fine, I do like the library, too. You?”
“The field.”
That earned me an eye roll. “You’re probably on the field all the time.”
“And I wouldn’t have it any other way. So you’re from Phoenix?”
“Yep. You? L.A.?”
“Nope. San Francisco.”
“You know, none of these questions have anything to do with us living together. If you’d asked me what my schedule looked like, if I was a loud roommate, or if I sleepwalked, or…I don’t know, anything related to this situation, I’d get it, but…” She pointed a finger somewhere over my shoulder so I turned to look and saw she was pointing at the big clock hanging on the wall. “It’s past midnight, and something else you might want to learn about me is that I rarely stay up this late, so I better…skedaddle. This was—” She paused and seemed to be surprised at what she was about to say. “This was fun, and maybe not so bad, and hopefully you won’t be scared to go to sleep now. I’m not planning on hurting you with my secret ninja skills or anything like that. I have an early class tomorrow, so…” She uncrossed her legs and pushed herself up.
I stood up, too, and went to stand right in front of her. She rubbed her forearms as if she was itchy because I was standing so close to her. That close, I could smell the faint scent of her perfume, something fresh and sweet, but not over the top. It suited her.
I held out my hand, and she looked at me as if I had sprouted a second head.
“What’s that for?” she asked with a small frown on her face.
“We’re gonna shake hands.”
“Why?”
I reached out, gently grabbed her wrist, and put her hand in mine. “Now, we shake.”
With my help, she shook my hand. “No one does this anymore, you know that, right?”
“I don’t know what you mean, but I like that we have officially met after two years of skirting each other.”
“You think you’ll be able to sleep on your own?”
She didn’t realize what she’d said before I raised an eyebrow and grinned at her.
“Shit. I didn’t mean it like that. You’re gonna be sleeping on your own either way—that wasn’t me trying to say I’d like to sleep with you if you can’t sleep on your own, or that I would. Not sleep sleep, as in sex, but just sleep next to each other…and why don’t you just go ahead and kill me now? Please?”
She tried to pull her hand away, but I held on to it. “For you, Flash, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear any of that. It was nice getting to know you, Zoe Clarke. This was good. We should do it again sometime.”
“Sure,” she agreed, but somehow made it sound like the opposite. I let her hand go. “This Flash thing, the nickname—that’s gonna be a thing isn’t it?”
Grinning, I nodded.
She had only managed to get a few steps away from me when I called after her.
“One last question.” Reluctantly, she looked at me over her shoulder. “A year with no sex or a year without a smartphone?”
“Aaand good night to you too.”
“Come on. It’s the last question—you can’t skip this one.”
“Again, this has what to do with us being roommates?”
I sat back down. “It will tell me a few things about you. Come on.”
She stood silent for a few seconds, looked at me, then looked away, probably trying to make sense of me. I couldn’t blame her.
“I’m gonna have to go with a year without a smartphone, though not because I’m dying to have sex. It’s not like I’m having tons of—” Her eyes grew slightly bigger as if she had just blurted out something I wasn’t supposed to know. I leaned back and watched her try to save herself. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m really not dying to have sex, and I could go without having sex for a year, because that would be easy. I just think a year without a phone would actually be therapeutic. It’s probably glued to my hand from the time I wake up to the time I go back to bed, and I think it would actually be nice to use it just for its original purpose, just to see how it goes, you know. Maybe socializing more would have a positive effect on my life, who knows. It’d definitely be good for my eyes, that’s for sure.” She let out another sigh. “I’m rambling again. All I’m saying is I wouldn’t choose sex because I couldn’t possibly go without it for a year.”