Falling Into You (Falling 1)
Page 57He draws me up to him and kisses me, his palm huge against my cheek. I feel so tiny against him, like I could curl up against him and disappear.
“It’s not too soon. I was gonna say the same thing, but you beat me to it.”
I smile. “Say it anyway. Please?”
He takes a deep breath and lets it out, examining my face almost idly, obviously composing his thoughts.
“I’m not just falling in love with you, Nell. I’m falling into you. You’re an ocean, and I’m falling in, drowning in the depths of who you are. Like you said, it’s scary in a way, but it’s also the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced. You are the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced.”
For the first time since Kyle died, I find myself crying happy tears. I’d forgotten what those were.
Chapter 12: Feel You Bare
I wake to guitar chords and Colton’s voice. It’s faint, filtering to me from far away. He’s on the roof. I wipe the sleep and the tangled curls from my eyes, swing my legs out of his bed—our bed?—and slip on a clean T-shirt from a laundry basket on the floor. It’s still dark out, but as I climb the creaking stairs to the roof, guitar in hand, I see slices of gray on the horizon between high-rises and apartment blocks. An hour or two before dawn, then.
Colton is in his chair, wearing loose track pants and a ripped and ragged gray Champion hoodie, the hood drawn down over his brows, a tangle of black hair sweeping across his brow. His legs are kicked up, bare heels propped on the ledge. His eyes are closed, guitar on his belly, fingers picking a slow, sweet tune that reminds me of something by City & Colour, but isn’t. He’s singing softly, his face twisting and brows knotting as he hits high notes, his expressions communicating the intensity of his feelings as he sings. A mug of coffee sits on the floor next him, within reach, steaming, and a huge thermos is also nearby so he can refill it. I sit on the ledge, feet on the stairs, watching, listening. I can’t quite follow the words he’s singing, since he’s kind of mumbling and singing softly. Every once in a while, he stops, backs up a few chords and adjusts the melody or phrasing.
He’s writing a song, I realize.
He reaches the end of the song and reaches down for his coffee, noticing me in the process. “Oh, hey. Hope I didn’t wake you up.”
I shrug and move across the roof to sit on the loveseat. “You did, but it’s fine. I like waking up to your voice.” God, that sounded so sappy, but I don’t care, especially when I see how Colton’s eyes light up. “What are you doing up so early?” I ask.
He passes me the mug of coffee, and I sip it as he answers. “I woke up with this song in my head. I had to write it, get it out, you know?”
“It’s beautiful, from what I heard,” I say, truthfully.
“It’s not done yet, but thanks.”
“What’s it about?”
He strums the strings with his thumb. “You. Us. It came from something I said to you last night.”
He grins and shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. Not till it’s done. We’ve got a gig on Thursday. I’ll play it for you then.”
I pretend to pout, and Colton only laughs. We share coffee and watch the sun come up between the buildings, working on the songs we’re performing.
I’m happy, and I refuse to let anything spoil that, not even the ever-present guilt, and the fact that I still miss Kyle.
I realize I’ll always miss Kyle, and a part of me will always feel guilty just for being alive when he isn’t, and that’s something I’ll just have to live with.
* * *
It’s Thursday and my nerves are at an all-time high. I’ve got three solo numbers this week, plus Colton is debuting his new song. We get through the requisite duet covers of Mumford & Sons, The Civil Wars, Rosi Golan and such. I do my solo numbers, “Let It Be Me” by Ray LaMontagne, and my covers of the Ella and Billie songs, which have become a kind of crowd favorite in the weeks that I’ve been playing with Colton.
And then, immediately after our break, Colton clears his throat into the mic and strums, adjusting his tuning. It’s his way of getting the crowd’s attention.
“Okay, so I’ve got this new song,” he says. “It’s a Colt original. Anyone want to hear it?”
I yell “yes!” into the microphone, then back away and clap with everyone else. He smiles at me, since he knows I want to hear it. I’ve only pestered him to give me sneak peek every single day since the rooftop sunrise jam session.
“Guess I’ll play it, then.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “So, yeah. This is called “Falling Into You” and it’s about Nell, here. It is kind of a love-song, but don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation as a badass to uphold after all.” The crowd laughs and cheers, encouraging him.
He starts the melody on his guitar, a complicated arrangement of picking and strumming. The tune is more complex, now, but I recognize the underlying theme from what I heard on the roof. Then he sings, and he locks eyes with me, and I realize he’s singing this to me, only to me. We might be in front of a crowd of a hundred or so people, but we’re completely alone.
“All my life it seems
I’ve been falling,
Failing,
Flailing,
Barely keeping my head above water.
I saw you
Standing beneath a spreading tree,
Refusing to weep.
But even then I saw
The weight of pain hiding in your eyes,
And I wished then,
There beneath that tree,
To take it all away.
But I had no words to heal you.
I had no words to heal myself.
And now that Fate has intervened,
Conspired to draw us together,
Despite the years between us,
Despite the weight of pain
Behind both our eyes,
Despite the ghosts trailing all around us
I’m still trying to find the words to heal you,
To take your pain and make it all my own
So your beautiful eyes can smile,
So you can be at peace.
And now that Fate has intervened,
Conspired to draw us together,
I can’t resist the lure of your eyes,
The temptation of your beauty,
The siren song of your voice
Whispering my name
In the dark comfort between my sheets.
I can’t resist you, baby,
Because I’m falling still,
I’m falling into you.”