Their Freefall At Last by Julie Olivia

9

Ruby

Thirteen Years Before

Ruby & Bennett are Seventeen Years Old

“One … two … three …”

We bolt, and I’m already stumbling past pushing limbs. Lorelei’s house is busy, filled with too many teenagers whipping around corners, scrambling to find a hiding spot.

“Seven … eight … nine …”

Bennett’s head is tucked into his arms in the corner. He’s counting to twenty.

I’ve never been great at hide-and-seek, and I don’t like playing that much either. But Lorelei seemed really excited about the idea of hosting, and I love when she gets into her party-planning mode, so I didn’t want to spoil her fun.

I’m almost positive Bennett would have read my mind and said it wasn’t an ideal birthday party for either of us, but Bennett wasn’t at the party-planning night to back me up.

He was with Sadie.

“Thirteen … fourteen …”

I run up the stairs, pass Lorelei’s closed bedroom door, and open the hall bathroom door. The shower is already filled with three people I barely know, sardined together and waving at me to move on.

“Sixteen … seventeen …”

I twist the knob into another bedroom. It’s empty, and it has none of the large balloons or streamers throughout the rest of the house. There’s a vase of flowers on the polished mahogany bedside table, and the bedsheets are meticulously tucked in.

It’s Lorelei’s parents’ room. I’m definitely not supposed to be in here.

But then I hear a whisper from the closet. “Psst. Red.”

The door is open by a sliver. I can’t see who’s inside, but hearing that nickname, I know who it is.

“Eighteen … nineteen …”

“Come on,” he hisses.

I don’t have any options, and it’s not like I can pretend I didn’t hear him at this point because I’ve been lingering too long. Plus, I have no reasons to give him other than, Hey, two of my best friends really don’t like you.

“Twenty!”

I run to the closet and shut the door behind me.

Illuminated by the small hanging bulb is the beautiful face of Michael Waters. It’s only a month away from his senior year of high school, and he’s already got the look of a college boy. Hardened, lined jaw, larger biceps, the tiniest bit of stubble starting to grow under his nose and on his chin. And those reliably searing blue eyes.

The corner of his mouth tilts up in a smirk.

“You almost ran,” he whispers.

“Well, you had the closet,” I say. “I didn’t wanna steal your hiding space.”

It’s a lie, and he knows it.

He averts his eyes with a chuckle, tonguing the inside of his cheek. God, I’ve never met another boy who knows he’s this attractive. But when his eyes snap back to mine, I think he enjoys how one simple look can make me squirm.

I hate how much I like Michael. I hate that there’s something oddly appealing about him. Dangerous almost. I would never tell Quinn that I still like him. I feel bad enough as it is. But I guess we can’t pick our crushes in life.

Michael stretches his legs out, moving one foot on either side of my hips.

He totally knows what he’s doing.

“Studying for the SATs yet?” he asks. I nod, and he gives a teasing smirk. “And where do you want to go to college, Red?”

“There’s an engineering university in Atlanta.”

He sticks out his bottom lip, as if impressed. “Very cool. Always figured you were smart. Robotics Club, right?”

Of coursehe remembers that fact about me.

“Yeah,” I say through a breathy laugh. “I mean, it’s kinda lame.”

“Nah. It’s different.”

“What about you? Where are you going to college?”

He heaves out a breathy laugh. “Wherever will take me, I guess. My old man says I’d better get a football scholarship or else I’m done for.” He squints at me playfully. “I’m not as smart as you, Red.”

“Don’t say that.”

“No, it’s cool.” He holds up his hands. “We all have our place in life.”

If I didn’t know him well enough, I’d say he was self-conscious. It’s well known that Michael is very good at teasing, and maybe that’s what he’s doing to me now. Or maybe he’s not the type of person rumors claim he is.

“I tutor most subjects,” I offer. “I could always—”

He shakes his head. “I’m not gonna waste your precious time. Don’t worry about me.”

He toys with a loose string on his ripped jeans, and I watch the twiddling of his deft fingers and defined wrists. I’m mesmerized by the motion.

“So, what are you gonna do without Bennett?” he asks. “When you go to college.”

My head juts back. “What do you mean?”

He laughs. “People drift apart all the time.”

I blow out a laugh through my nose. “We’ll still talk.”

“Come on. You know he’s not gonna keep in touch with you after high school.”

I don’t like that my face contorts on instinct, but I can feel the shot of adrenaline course through my veins, furrowing my brow.

“Yes, he will,” I counter.

“I don’t know,” Michael singsongs. “Who’s he locking lips with this week? Sarah? Susie?”

My body heats.

“Sadie,” I answer.

I don’t like imagining Bennett kissing someone else even though it happens literally all the time.

Just not with me.

Bennett and I don’t talk about our kiss last summer. It happened, and then it just … didn’t. I think about it a lot though. I think about our kiss when he’s concentrating really hard on a test and he bites the tip of his pencil, or when he stretches out on the couch with his bicep tucked under a pillow and his shirt rides up, or when he scratches the back of his neck with an embarrassed laugh when I ask him who the new girl is. Because there’s always a new girl.

I’ve kissed two other boys. Earlier this summer, I was a camp counselor, and the bonfire was warm, and this boy smelled good, and we’d been joking around all week, so we just leaned in and tried it. The kiss was fine, I guess. Not great.

The other boy was some kid in our grade, who copied my homework. He said I was pretty, and that day, Bennett had been kissing Sarah a lot, so I kissed this boy. It was too wet.

Bennett’s asked me before why I haven’t tried dating anyone, but the truth is, aside from stealing kisses, I’m too busy. It’s either study and date someone, or study and hang out with Bennett. I’ll choose Bennett every time.

“Right,” Michael says, bringing me back to his pumping eyebrows as he hisses out the name, “Sadie.”

My stomach clenches tight.

“You’re being mean,” I accuse.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“I like when you’re like this.”

“Like what?”

“Not putting up with my shit.”

I snort, which only makes him smile more.

Footsteps pound up the stairs, and someone starts laughing outside the room.

“Sometimes, I feel like Bennett is missing out,” he says.

“On what?”

“Well, he’s going after all these girls, but you’re right in front of him.”

I can’t help the uncomfortable giggle that leaves my mouth. Michael laughs with me, but I don’t think he realizes I’m only laughing because I can’t do anything else.

“I don’t want to date my best friend though,” I say because it’s the automatic response I’ve practiced for over a year. Because, if I don’t, I’ll picture myself kissing him instead, and then he’d probably get freaked out, and I’d lose him.

And that’s the worst-case scenario—losing Bennett.

After my mom left and since my dad has been head-over-business-shoes obsessed with Miranda … Bennett is all I have. I cannot lose my best friend over something as simple as wanting to kiss him again.

“If I were your best friend, would you want to date me?” Michael asks.

I blink at him, shifting my knees closer to my chin. “What?”

“I’m just saying … you’re really pretty, Red.”

He’s disarming me, and he knows it.

“You’re blushing.”

I shake my head. “I’m not blushing.”

“Yeah, you are. Bet I can make you blush more.”

Footsteps come closer. Echoing laughter comes from the hall bathroom. The sardines must have been found.

Empowered by his smirk, I counter, “Try me.”

Michael’s smile creeps up his lips, and he whispers, “I think about you sometimes. When I … you know.”

“When you what?”

“Come on.” Michael’s voice is husky and low as he tilts his head to the side.

This closet is suddenly so stifling and uncomfortable. He gets that look in his eyes—that lustful, smoldering look when his eyelids lower and his blues get hazy.

Footsteps grow closer.

“Red,” he growls, “you know what.”

Without thinking, my eyes dart down to his buckle and back up.

I do know.

My heart pounds at the thought of his hand over himself, pumping up and down to the thought of me. Blood rushes to my head, and my stomach flips in a position I’m not sure it ever has before.

Something in me feels wrong. But another part feels empowered.

The closet door rips open.

“Found … you.” Bennett stands in the doorway, his beautiful white smile fading instantly as he takes in the tight closet scene.

Shame trickles down my spine. His brown eyes whip over to Michael, who gives an exaggerated shrug.

Coming up behind Bennett is Sadie, her chin now resting on his shoulder with a teasing smile. My fists curl by my sides.

“Oh, hi, Ben,” Michael says, tipping his chin down. “And Sadie.”

“Mikey,” Bennett counters.

“Are we gonna cut the cake soon?” I ask quickly, scrambling to my feet, flashing Bennett an innocent smile.

I’m trying to keep the optimism up, but his eyes are roaming over my untouched body and then back to Michael.

“You all right?” Bennett asks.

“Christ, we were just sharing a hiding spot,” Michael says with a laugh. “Playing around.”

Both of Bennett’s eyebrows rise to his hairline.

God, why did Michael have to say it like that?

I look over my shoulder at Michael, and his blue eyes dart to Bennett, then me.

He smirks, and all I can think about is what he said about Bennett. “You know he’s not gonna keep in touch with you.”