The Hardest Fall

We’d only talked twice after the day at the diner, but it was still something. The first time he’d called me, it was just to give me a heads-up that he had talked to Mark, but not his mother; I didn’t think he was ever planning on telling her. I appreciated the warning. I’d already gone ahead and blocked Mark while I was staying with Ms. Hilda, but it was good to know what was going on. It had been a three-minute conversation—yes, I’d checked—nothing long, but that didn’t stop me from grinning like a fool for an hour after he hung up.

The second time was when I’d sent him a short Happy New Year text. He responded asking me what I was doing, and we ended up texting back and forth a few times. It wasn’t anything deep, but I was happy. He didn’t seem to talk much in general, at least that was the vibe I’d gotten from him when he came to the apartment with JP, so it didn’t surprise me when he didn’t suddenly turn into a chatterbox with me either. I chattered enough for the both of us anyway. I even managed to get a smiley face from him, which was the highlight of my day. Pathetic, right?

I blamed Dylan.

Okay, fine, not really, but I was missing him like I hadn’t seen him in years when it had actually only been a few weeks, and it was easier to blame him for everything since he was the one who’d walked out of that apartment instead of trying to take me away with him. The plan had been for my father to come spend New Year’s in L.A., but something came up and he couldn’t make it; that was Dylan’s fault, too. Then there was the time I couldn’t get pizza from my favorite pizza place because their pizza oven wasn’t working. What kind of pizza place has a faulty oven? All on Dylan. I’m thinking you can see the pattern there. All I knew about him was that right after the Cactus Bowl, he had headed home to San Francisco to spend the short break with his family.

Chris: It’s a good night to go out. Maybe you’d like to have a drink somewhere.

I read the text once. Then a second time, slower. Was he asking me to hang out?

“Read this.” I handed my phone to Jared, who was working on a sketch on the coffee table. “He’s asking me to hang out, right? I’m not reaching or anything?”

Jared gave me an amused look and handed my phone back. “Nope. That’s an invite, all right. Write him back.”

“You’ll come, too?”

He returned his attention to his sketch. “Sure. If you don’t mind me flirting with your brother, count me in.”

When he gave me a hopeful look, I grinned.

“Yeah, maybe not this time.”

He chuckled and threw one of his pens at me.

“You little cockblocker.”

A little excited and a lot nervous, I texted back.

Me: I’d love to. Where do you want to meet?

Chris: Uh…not with me. I think you should go by yourself.

At first, I didn’t get it, and I felt like crap, but after reading it a few times, my heart started beating faster and I jumped up from the couch, my laptop almost meeting an untimely end.

“What’s happening? What is it?” Jared asked when I bounced in place like a lunatic, one hand over my mouth, the other clutching my phone to my chest.

“I think Dylan is back,” I shrieked as quietly as possible, so I wouldn’t wake Becky. “Chris just told me I should go have a drink somewhere by myself. I think Dylan is at the bar. He’s back!”

Having trouble containing the bouncing, I let Jared steer me into his room. “Didn’t you already go to the bar to look for him though?”

“I did, but maybe he’s back now?”

“I thought you were angry at him.”

“I am. I’m so so angry at him.”

“Why are you still bouncing?”

“Because I can’t wait to kick his ass.”

Jared put his hands on my shoulders and steadied me. Apart from my flushed face and the grin I was sporting, I must’ve looked pretty normal. “You good?” he asked.

I took a deep breath and exhaled. “Yeah. What am I going to wear?”

“You sure you’re good? You’re still trying to bounce. Stop it.” He pressed harder on my shoulders.

“I’m excited, let me bounce a little—and now I have to pee. Find me something to wear, okay? I need to leave ASAP because I’m not sure if he’s working or is just there with Chris. I need to get there before he leaves.” I stopped in the doorway and glanced back. “He’s back, Jared.”

My best friend’s face relaxed and he smiled back at me. “I know, sweetheart. Go pee, and then you can go kick his ass.”

* * *

I stood across the street from Jimmy’s and tried to contain everything I was feeling. Excitement, dread, panic, happiness, hope, anger—you name it, I was feeling it. After hugging Jared and promising I’d keep him updated on whether or not he’d have to come pick up my pieces, I’d left, and the closer my Uber had gotten to the bar, the harder and louder my heartbeats had gotten.

So, I chose to stand there like a weirdo to give myself a few minutes to collect myself. When I was walking across the street, a couple stumbled out of the bar, heads low as they whispered, hand in hand. For a split second, my stomach dropped and I froze in the middle of the street, because I could’ve sworn I was seeing Dylan with another girl—but then the girl smiled up at the guy and the guy backed off enough that I could see he actually looked nothing like Dylan.

A car blasted its horn and I hurried across the street.

Before pushing open the heavy door, I closed my eyes and inhaled fresh air. With one final mental push, I was inside.

You wouldn’t believe how loud and clear I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, how I couldn’t hear anything but my own freak-out. The bar was full as it always was; it didn’t matter a bit that it was a Monday. A guy bumped into me as he was heading outside then I forced myself to take a few steps in and look around to see if I could find Dylan or Chris.

I was wearing one of my favorite white tees, black jeans, black boots, and a thin jacket on top, only because Jared had forced me to. I was burning up with stress.

Then I saw him, and suddenly I didn’t know how to breathe, what to do with myself…I didn’t know anything. I swallowed and took a step toward the bar where he was talking to another bartender. Head angled down, lips stretched into a small smile, he looked larger than life to me.

I swear my heart skipped a beat—maybe a few—as I got closer to him. I have no idea how I managed to put one foot in front of the other, but it could’ve been that I was floating. All the bar stools were taken, so I waited…and waited, patiently, never taking my eyes off of him. If he’d just look up and a little to the left, he’d find me standing right there, but he didn’t, and it made it easier for me to creep on him as he poured drinks.

When a girl jumped down from one of the stools, a little away from Dylan, I rushed to it before anyone else could take it. I hoisted myself up, placed my hands on the bar top, and then took them down. I squared my shoulders, sat up straighter, and pressed my hands against my stomach to calm the butterflies rioting in there.

Everything was fuzzy around me. Dylan was all I could focus on, and a massive earthquake could have gone off at that moment, yet I still wouldn’t have taken my eyes off of him. My heart had missed beating like this, for him, only for him.

“Can I get you something?”