When I Fall

The hardest decision I’ve faced in a long time just became incredibly simple.

One hand reaches for a cookie, the other grabs my phone. I round the counter and head for the couch, taking a bite of the cookie and unlocking the screen.

Technically, I’m not sending him a regular text. I’m sending him a reply to a text. That is completely different than putting myself out there with an unprovoked message. I’m reacting. Nothing more.

Me: Ok.

There. A simple response. The whatever is in his court now. Ball, or something.

I set the phone down in my lap and take another bite. The chocolate melts against the heat of my mouth, coating my tongue. I lick a tiny bit off my thumb as my phone beeps.

Reed: What’s ok?

What’s ok? Did he not . . .

I scroll back to his last message. Yup. That was definitely the last thing he sent me.

Me: You said nothing happened. I’m saying ok.

Reed: What the hell, Beth? I sent that 6 days ago. You couldn’t text me back sooner?

I read his message twice.

Couldn’t text him back sooner?

Really? He’s mad about this? Maybe I took 6 days because I was still in shock from what I saw. Maybe I didn’t have anything to respond to. It’s not like he asked me a question. I don’t remember reading ‘Did you see that just now?’ or ‘Any chance you missed that chick dragging me outside?’

I shove the rest of the cookie in my mouth, typing my response. His text comes in before I can finish.

Reed: I’m sorry you saw that.

Holding down the back-arrow, I erase the message I was nearly finished typing.

Okay. This isn’t what I miss. I’ve never felt awkward doing anything with Reed, but if we stay on this topic, I know that’s what I’m going to feel. I don’t want to think about that night anymore. I’ve already allowed my mind to run rampant with images of what he did with that woman before he was dragged out of the bar. I know how Reed flirts, and I’m grateful I didn’t see it. But that hasn’t stopped me from thinking about it.

Constantly thinking about it.

Time for a subject change.

Me: What are you doing right now?

I drop my head back onto the couch after I press send.

Shit. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about anything else. Maybe now that he’s made sure I know how regretful he is, there’s no other reason to keep this conversation going.

I should’ve grabbed the entire plate of cookies.

My phone beeps.

Reed: Having a great day constructing.

I smile against my hand. That, right there, that’s what I miss. Reed being exactly how he’s always been with me. Making me smile when I’m two seconds away from crawling underneath something and hiding out until winter. Easy. Playful. This is the Reed I want. The one who brings out the happiest version of myself.

Me: Didn’t I ask you to erase that entire message off your phone?

Reed: No. You asked me to forget you said you don’t get dick very often. I didn’t, btw.

Me: Awesome! I’m so happy to hear you still have that conversation. That wasn’t embarrassing for me or anything.

Reed: It’s safe with me. Only I know how deprived you are of dick.

I set the phone down and grab a glass of milk out of the fridge. Deprived of dick? Hardly. Reed made sure of that.

Oh, no. Don’t go there right now.

My ringtone sounds from the couch. After grabbing another cookie and carrying it across the room with my glass, I set it down on the coffee table and pick up my phone.

“Yesss?” I answer, playfully stretching out the word.

“You didn’t respond.”

His voice is tight. Was he worried I wouldn’t?

I dunk my cookie into the milk. “I was getting a drink.” I take a bite. “For my cookie. Did you think I was going to make you wait another six days?”

His dry laugh fills my ear. “The thought crossed my mind. What are you doing?”

“Eating cookies.”

“Besides that.”

“Nothing.” I lean back onto the couch, tucking my feet under my butt. “Are you on break?”

I hear a door close. “Not really. I feel like I fucking need one though. If my sister’s asshole boyfriend doesn’t stop screwing shit up, I might have to fake an illness and go home. He’s getting on my last fucking nerve.”

Riley. I completely forgot about that awkward discovery yesterday.

“Even if it had been a whole five minutes, Reed lasts a lot longer than that.”

Jesus Christ. Thank God that’s all I said.

“Have you talked to her lately?” I ask.

“Who?”

“Your sister. Did she tell you we know each other?”

There is a long pause, then finally, “Uh, no. How do you know Riley?”

Leaning forward, I dunk the other half of the cookie into the milk, then pop the rest of it in my mouth, chewing before saying, “We volunteer together at Holy Cross Soup Kitchen. She’s really sweet. I like her.”

“You volunteer at the soup kitchen?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I used to be homeless.”

An even longer pause settles between us this time. I shift uncomfortably on the couch, untucking my legs and pulling my knees against my chest. His breath quickens in my ear.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You were homeless?”

“I wouldn’t joke about something like that.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">