The Hardest Fall

My brows almost reached my hairline. “Netflix and chill?”

When she realized what she’d said, she looked horrified. “No! I mean, I know what that means, and I didn’t mean it that way. I meant literally. We could pick a movie and chill out, not pick a movie and have sex while said movie is playing, not chill in that way, not Netflix and—” She let out a little growl. “Forget about Netflix. Fuck Netflix. The last time we tried, your friends came over and we couldn’t, so maybe when you come home tonight we can watch a movie?”

I gave her a small smile, thinking maybe it was wrong of me to enjoy yanking her chain so much. “I’m sorry, Zoe. My shift ends pretty late tonight. Maybe we can do that another time?”

Her smile disappeared from her face. “Yeah, sure. Of course. You’re probably meeting up with your friends after this anyway.”

I touched her arm again before she could slip away, because apparently I couldn’t help myself. “Only because it’s Pint Night here, and I’m afraid I’m not going anywhere until last call, which is at two AM.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s late. Like you said, maybe another time. See you back at the apartment then?”

“I’ll see you at home.” I liked it better when we called it home, like she had a few seconds before. “I’d love to meet your friends,” I repeated before she could leave.

Her smile came back. “Sure. Actually, I think you already know Kayla—you guys kinda dated—and Jared is a fan, so he’d like that too. We’ll come over”—she looked around—“when it’s not so crowded. I already took too much of your time, I’m sorry.”

What the fuck?

“Wait a second—what did you say? You think I dated your friend?”

“I don’t think—I mean, she said you guys…”

I glanced back at the booth with a frown. The one she called Jared was openly staring at us, but this time the girl across from him smiled and waved at me a little sheepishly. I narrowed my eyes, looked at her a little closer, and…yeah, maybe she looked familiar, but I was pretty sure I hadn’t dated her.

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t date your friend, Zoe.” I took another quick look. “What did you say her name was again?”

“Kayla.”

“Yeah, you’re wrong.”

“She said you guys met freshman year—well, she was a freshman, so you were a sophomore.”

I squinted and looked harder, trying to remember why she looked familiar. “Was she by any chance a redhead?”

“Yeah. Her boyfriend doesn’t like the red, so she dyes it brown now.”

A smile spread across my face. “Okay, I remember her.” I lifted my hand and waved back at her friend. Focusing back on Zoe, I said, “Though, just to make it clear, we never actually dated, just went out with friends a couple times, that’s it. I wouldn’t call it dating.”

“That’s what Kayla said, too. Anyway, it’d be okay if you had dated.”

I nodded slowly. “It would be okay, but we didn’t.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked down at the beer bottle in her hand. I watched her thumb slowly wipe the condensation away.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

I leaned down so I could meet her eyes. “Stop by before you guys leave, okay? We’ll talk. Keep me company. Let me see my friend for a while longer.”

“Okay.”

I felt relieved.

With a half wave, she hopped off and carried the drinks back to her friends. On her way over there, she turned around once, drinks still held high, eyes sparkling, and gave me the biggest smile—causing my own lips to twitch in amusement—then turned back and kept walking. Kayla took the Corona, and the friend who was definitely not the boyfriend took the beer from her hand before she could sit down and poured it into their mugs.

A loud cheer erupted from the group at the beer pong table, and I remembered that I had a job to do.

The orders had slowed down, so I shouted at Lindy. “I have this. Go take your break.”

She groaned and pulled at my shoulder to give me a peck on the cheek as she passed me on her way to the door that led to the kitchen.

I spent a few minutes talking to the guys sitting at the front about how the season was shaping up until Lindy came back.

When I looked over to my right where Zoe’s booth was, she was the first to realize they’d been caught staring at me and quickly looked away.

Chapter Thirteen

Dylan

Jimmy’s was only a few minutes away from the apartment so I made it back around two-thirty AM.The last thing I expected or wanted to see when I started climbing up the stairs was Ms. Hilda.

“Oh, Dylan, I thought you were someone else.”

“Is everything okay, Ms. Hilda? It’s pretty late to be up.”

She waved me off. “I always have trouble sleeping at night. When I heard footsteps, I wanted to see who was coming in at this hour. Miss Clarke has a visitor tonight, you know.”

My jaw clenched and I stilled. “A visitor?”

She frowned and looked toward our apartment door. “Yes, her friend. That one likes older boys. You see how late it is, and he is still in there—as if she could fool me by tiptoeing past my door.”

Maybe her friends had come back with her? Offering a tight-lipped smile and a quick nod, I took my key from my pocket so I could get in and see it for myself.

“Dylan? Did you say your father was a plumber?” She stopped me before I could make it to the door.

“Yes, he is.” I shifted from one foot to the other.

“I have this little problem in the kitchen—do you think you can take a look?”

“Ms. Hilda, I’d love to help, but I’m just coming back from work and I’m wiped. I’m not any good at it, but I’ll take a look at it tomorrow for you.”

She huffed and lost the semi-pleasant look on her face.

“I’ll hold you to that young man.”

When I turned the key and stepped inside, I was expecting to see the worst. What I found, however, was a sleeping Zoe balled up on the couch. Other than a lone scented candle burning on the kitchen island, none of the lights were on. After locking the door, I dropped my bag and made my way toward her.

She was sleeping with her hands under her cheek, her legs tucked up to her stomach. Her hair was hanging over her shoulder in a messy braid, covering half of her face.

For a second I’d believed what that nosy old woman had said. For a second I’d been scared of what I’d find when I stepped through the door.

A few seconds ticked by as I watched her sleep, trying to decide what to do. Rubbing my eyes, I kneeled right next to her. She was wearing the same outfit she’d had on earlier, the only difference was that she had changed out of her tight black jeans in favor of leggings.

Hesitating only for a moment, I reached up and closed my hand over her shoulder, gently sliding it down her arm and back up again. “Zoe, wake up.” She didn’t, not even a stir. “Zoe?” I let go of her shoulder and, as gently as possible, brushed her hair back over her shoulder to see her full face. She looked so peaceful.

Her phone, which was lying face down on the coffee table, pinged with a new text. It wasn’t my best moment, but I flipped it over and checked who it was from. I couldn’t see the contents of the message, but I saw the sender’s name on the screen: Mark Wilson.