The Upside of Falling

Stop overthinking, I told myself. Feel.
So I did.
“I love you too,” I said.
Brett smiled. The stars fell from the sky and landed on his face. It was the
brightest smile of them all.
“You do?” he asked.
“I do,” I said, laughing. “I don’t think I even realized it until just now. But I
do love you, Brett, because you make me feel safe. You make me feel hopeful. I
never thought I’d love anyone. And with all the downsides of love, you managed
to show me the upside,” I whispered, holding his cheek in my palm, his heart in
my hand.

---

Brett was watching me as if I were the sun his world revolved around, and I
couldn’t quite fathom how I’d ended up here. How, on a planet with billions of
people whose lives would never cross, I managed to capture the heart of the
most beautiful one.
I tilted my chin up as Brett leaned down, our lips yearning for each other’s.
His mouth met mine and my world exploded into a million tiny fragments. He
tasted like peppermint, like home and every good thing mixed into one.
I wasn’t sure how we ended up back inside his house or how the two of us
fumbled up the stairs without falling and then tumbled onto his bed. His body
felt so new, so right, and I let my hands trail across his skin like he was a map,
undiscovered territory. When Brett lifted my shirt above my head, I felt myself
blush, all the way from my cheeks to the tips of my toes.
“I don’t want you to be embarrassed,” he said, lifting his head from my chest
until his eyes met mine. They were so dark, those black holes again. “I love
every single thing about you.”
I trembled as he kissed my jaw, my neck. I felt my armor cracking, every
wall I’d built up around my heart tumbling down. His lips were undoing them,
one by one, unraveling me from the inside out. And then his mouth crashed into
mine and my entire world shattered. When the fragments blew away it was only
Brett left, shining above me.

---

Brett
I REALIZED THAT NIGHT THERE
was only one thing Becca needed to be happy.
It wasn’t me. It wasn’t even books. It was the shocking, slightly disturbing
obsession she had with cotton candy ice cream.
After she had showered and was drowning in my clothing, she sat down on
the couch and hit me with those eyes, asking, “Brett, do you have any cotton
candy ice cream?”
“We only provide quality ice cream in this household. But . . . I may have
something even better. Wait here.”
I ran up the stairs two at a time. I went to my bedroom and searched through
my closet until I found it, tucked in the corner of the top shelf. It was the only
book I would read as a kid. My mom was always buying me books to make up
for all the hours I spent throwing a football around the backyard with my father.
It didn’t work. I always chose the football.
Book in hand, I raced back down the stairs and jumped over the back of the
couch, landing beside Becca, who flinched. She was shaking her head—
disapproving as always—as I placed the book in her lap. She picked it up
quickly, running her fingers along the cover.
“‘Goosebumps’?” she read aloud. I nodded proudly. “Why are you giving
me this?” She tucked her foot under her thigh and turned to me.
“First of all,” I said, “easy on the judgment, Hart. You’re holding my
childhood in your hands.”
She giggled. Actually giggled. She even held the book up to cover her face.
“This is what you read as a kid?” she asked.
“That, and only that.”
“Is this supposed to impress me?” she teased.
Yes. Was it working? “Have you read this?” I asked. She shook her head and

---

I jerked my chin back toward my neck, disgusted. “Come on. Get comfy.” I
stretched into the corner of the couch, then patted my chest.
“What?”
“Get comfy,” I repeated. “I’m reading this to you.”
“I don’t want to read that, Brett.”
“Why? Because there’s no romance? No love?” I said, wiggling my fingers.
“I’m reading it to you, so there’s nothing to complain about. All you need to do
is listen to my voice.”
Becca rolled her eyes. I was sure one day they’d get stuck like that.
“You really want to read to me?”
“No,” I answered. “Believe me, there are a million things I’d rather do with
you than read this book, but we kind of just did that, so . . . come here. You
always tell me about your books; now give one of mine a try.”
I was halfway through the second sentence when she said, “Wait. Is this
scary?”
“These books are for children. And I thought you were all horror-movies-
don’t-scare-me tough?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
“I am,” she said, jabbing her elbow backward into my chest. It actually kind
of hurt. “But words are scarier than images.”
“I think you’re the only person on this planet who thinks that.”
“Look, an image is there in front of you. Right? You stare at it but then you
can look away and it’s gone,” she said. “Words aren’t like that. They build an
entire world around you. It’s not something you look at, it’s something you’re
inside. That makes it scarier.”
“I understood none of that.”
She sighed. “Is it scary or not?”
“No, Becca. And if it is, I will protect you from all the fictional horror. Can I
continue?”
“You seem very excited to read this.”
She was right. I was. I loved the thought of sharing something that was
important to me with her.
I rested one arm on the couch and wrapped the other one around her waist
until she was caged against me, the book held in front of the two of us. When
she nestled herself back into my chest, I continued reading. I was glad she didn’t
comment on how my voice sounded a little breathless. It was kind of pathetic
what being so close to her did to me.
When I was halfway through the fifth chapter, Becca let out a long breath. It
blew her hair around her face and it was like she finally let herself relax, let
herself breathe. Her head rolled slightly to the side until her nose was pressed

---

against my neck. I could feel her lips brush against my skin, feel her breath there
too. Her hand slid up my chest and stopped over my heart. Then she just left it
there.
I kept reading the entire time.
“Brett?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ve read the same sentence three times.”
I had?
“Sorry,” I mumbled. Her breath was still there, fanning across my neck.
“You make it hard to concentrate.”
“Do I?” she asked, lifting her head from my chest, pointing her chin up until
her eyes met mine. They were darker than normal, like the sky after a rainstorm
and the ocean, swirled into one. I could drown in them, I realized. I was
drowning in them.
I really did love her. And here, in the darkness, it was like those words were
all that existed. That and my heart beating too quickly. And Becca’s lips too
close. And the way her eyes fluttered closed for a second longer than normal
after drifting to my mouth.
“Becca?”
“Yes?”
“No more pretending,” I said. “No more faking. No more any of that.”
Her eyebrows drew together. I ran my thumb across the lines. “I know that,”
she said, pausing to yawn. “Why are you saying this again?”
“Because I need you to know that this is real.”
Then I kissed her, and it felt like I was sliding off the edge of the world.
Her eyes drooped closed, fingers slowly touching my cheeks, holding me to
her. When I tugged her with me back onto the couch, until we were lying chest
to chest, she let me, her mouth never leaving mine.
I could feel her hand slide from my face to my arm and stop there, holding
me. Good, I thought, don’t let go.
“It feels like the world is going to explode when I kiss you,” I whispered.
“Then let it explode,” she said.
I tugged her face back to mine and did just that.

---

Becca
I WAS SITTING UNDER THE
oak tree behind the football field, watching practice.
Tomorrow night was Brett’s first game back on the team. It was somewhat of a
big deal. His parents were going to be there. My mom and Cassie were coming
too. And it was weird, not being nervous for our worlds to clash a little more.
Slowly, I stopped trying to keep my mom and Brett apart with a ten-foot pole.
They’re both big parts of my life. A little crossover couldn’t hurt.
The team had been practicing for a while now—I’d stopped paying attention
after the first hour. Now I was reading my book, whisked away into another
world. I was halfway through a page when I looked up to find Brett jogging
toward me. The sun was making his hair shine that familiar golden hue.
“Shouldn’t you be ripping your shirt off and running laps?” I called.
He was grinning, looming in front of me and hogging all the sun. “You’d
like that, huh? Scoot over, let’s share.” I inched to my left, making room on the
tree trunk for Brett to rest on. He was leaning back, eyes closed, out of breath.
“They’re staring at you,” I whispered, watching his teammates.
“Ignore them,” he said, pressing his face into my neck. “Read to me.”
“Shouldn’t you keep practicing?”
“I’ve done enough drills for the day.” He plucked the book from my hands,
inspected the cover. “I recognize this one. Haven’t you read this, like, a hundred
times?”
“Twenty, actually,” I said, snatching it back. “Today marks the twenty-first
time.”
He grinned. Shook his head.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” he said, jerking his chin toward the book on my
legs. “Read to me.”

---

“Why?”
“Because you go somewhere else when you read. I want to go there with
you.”
We sat there and I read aloud, my back to Brett’s chest. He pulled me a little
closer, held me a little tighter. And this time, we escaped together.

---