Falling Into You (Falling 1)

I cut my eyes at him. “Two? Planning on keeping me out that late, huh, Kyle?”

He blushed. “Maybe.”

I took a deep breath, knowing I had to broach the subject. I didn’t think he would. “About tonight. Are we…I mean…if we’re staying out late, does that mean you’re planning on us—” I couldn’t get the words out.

Kyle fiddled with the gearshifter, chewing on his lower lip. Finally he glanced at me as we pulled to a stop at a red light. “Look, I know what you’re getting at, and…I’ve made arrangements. You know, in case that’s what we want. But we don’t have to. I want it to be right.”

“You’ve made arrangements? What does that mean?”

He blushed again, redder than ever. “We have a room at the Red Roof Inn. It’s just down the road from where we’re having dinner.”

I tried to joke. “Getting a bit presumptuous, are we, Mr. Calloway?”

Kyle grinned at me, but we both knew the joke had fallen flat. “Just…in case.”

A thought struck me and I blurted it out before I had a chance to over-think it. “Kyle? Have you thought that maybe we’re not ready if we can’t even talk about it without getting uncomfortable?”

He laughed, a nervous sound. “Yeah, that thought has crossed my mind.”

“Are we doing this because it’s what all our friends are doing?”

He glanced at me in irritation. “No! I mean, Jason told me about him and Becca, and I know Aaron and Kyla have done it too, but no. No. And we’re not doing anything, necessarily. I just wanted to have the option available.”

I laughed, more at myself than anything else. “I don’t know if I’m touched that you thought ahead, or weirded out that you assumed we would.”

“I didn’t assume anything, Nell.” Kyle sounded almost angry. “I just—you know what, yeah. I did assume. I mean, I really want to be with you, Nell. I know we’re young, but I love you. I think we’re ready.”

I stared at him: he’d said the words. “We’re sixteen, Kyle.” I quirked an eyebrow at him. “And aren’t you supposed to wait until a romantic moment during dinner to tell me you love me? The middle of an argument doesn’t seem like the best time for it, you know?”

“Is this an argument?”

I shrugged. “Kind of? I don’t know. I don’t want it to be.”

“Me neither. And I guess you’re right, but it’s out there now. I do love you. I’ve been wanting to say it to you for weeks now, but I’ve been too chicken. I was planning on telling you tonight. I had a whole thing scripted. Like, actually written out.” He dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a folded piece of lined notebook paper, edges ragged with ripped-out spiral-bound tags.

I know we’re young, it read. And I know most people would say we’re just kids, or to young too know what love is. But screw that. I’ve known you my whole entire life. We have shared everything together. Every important thing in our lives has happened together. We learned to ride bikes together and we learned to swim together and we learned to drive cars together. We failed 8th grade algebra together. (Remember how nasty Mr. Jenkins was? How many times were we sent to the office that semester?). And now we’re learning how to fall in love together. I don’t care what any one else says. I love you. I’ll always love you, no matter what happens with us in the future. I love you now and forever.

Your loving boyfriend,

Kyle

I read the note through several times. I wasn’t aware that I was crying until something plopped onto the crinkled, much-folded page, spreading a wet blue stain over the ink. This changed everything.

“I love you too, Kyle.” I laughed, even as I sniffled. “This note is so sweet. So perfect. Thank you.”

He shrugged. “It’s true. I know this wasn’t maybe the most romantic way for me to tell you I love you, but—”

“It’s perfect, Kyle.” I refolded the note and tucked it into my wallet in my purse.

That note would become my greatest comfort, and the reminder of my deepest heartache.

* * *

The restaurant Kyle had chosen was insanely busy. Even with reservations, we waited almost an hour for our table to be ready. There were dozens of couples ranging from our age to old married couples. We took our time, sharing a salad, soup and an entree, as well as huge piece of cheesecake for dessert.

We were oddly relaxed, now that the declaration of love was out of the way. We chatted easily about everything from teachers at school to gossip regarding who was sleeping with whom and who wasn’t. Eventually Kyle paid the tab and we went back to his car. Kyle pulled out of the restaurant parking lot and wound his way slowly around town. He was killing time, I knew, giving us a chance to talk before we broached the issue of going to the hotel or not.

Kyle circled town on the dirt back roads as we talked, and after about half an hour, he pulled back onto the main road approaching where I knew the hotel was. He glanced at me, reached out and took my hand in his.

“Do you want to go home? There’s a couple movies playing at the theater, too, in case you wanted to see a movie.” He fidgeted with the steering wheel as we sat at a stoplight, then finally turned to meet my eyes, his gaze serious. “Or we can go to the hotel.”

Decision time.

Oh god. His eyes were liquid brown, mocha sprinkled with cinnamon red highlights, little specks of topaz and flecks of tan. He was so serious, so sweet. Offering up the idea without pressuring me. I squeezed his hand as we approached the signature red tile roof of the hotel. I swallowed hard.

“Let’s go to the hotel,” I said.

We were still skirting the issue. Talking about it in code. Going to the hotel. Meaning, let’s go have sex. I blushed as the blunt thought crossed my mind. But then I looked at Kyle, at his carefully spiked black hair, his strong jawline and high cheekbones and soft lips. His long black eyelashes blinked rapidly, and then he glanced at me, offered me a nervous but brilliant smile, flashing straight white teeth. My nerves receded, just a little bit. My heart continued to pound a million miles a minute, though, and the hammering in my chest only ratcheted up faster as we pulled into the parking lot and approached the check-in counter.

The woman behind the counter was older, with graying blond hair and steel blue eyes. Knowing eyes. She gave us each a long, hard stare, as if daring us to continue on. Her lips pursed in a disapproving frown as she handed Kyle the keycard, and I knew she wanted to say something to us. She didn’t, though, and Kyle and I both fought laughter as we boarded the elevator to our third-floor room.