Heartfall, p.5
Heartfall, page 5
I read his lips. “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna hurt you.”
It’s impossible to contain my laughter. He’s so cute and pitiful. Shaking my head, I grab his hand and let him fall against me as the ride controls and throws us all around the vehicle. We both laugh and finally accept the tossing and turning in each other’s arms just as the ride is coming to an end.
When the car stops, Sebastian reaches over and unbuckles the strap, lifts the bar, and helps me out, which makes me smile. We walk in silence around to the exit, his hand on the small of my back.
Sebastian being so kind to me makes me think back to my dad. My parents were teenagers when they got pregnant with me. Mom refused to marry just because she was pregnant. Apparently Dad was the type of guy who liked to sweet talk girls, then ditch them after he had his way with them. She says the only similarities I have with him are my looks, which were his best qualities.
My mom works sixty hours a week to pay our bills, especially to afford for me to dance. There’s never been a man in my life to treat me with such kindness. It’s not like Sebastian’s a man quite yet, but he’s the closest thing in my life. And it’s not like I’m thinking of him as a father. But if I had a father, he’d want me to date someone like Sebastian.
When I was little, I used to think maybe Robins would be like a father to me, but he’s been an epic disappointment. It’s no secret Robins thinks Sebastian is a good dancer, but their personalities mix like oil and water. Rumor has it, though, it’s because Sebastian is a lot like Robins was when he was younger. Robins’ personal life is a bit of a mystery. I’ve yet to put the pieces together. Not that I care much. He’s just a miserable old man. It’s sad, really.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”
“Nothin’.”
“Not true. Your forehead gets these little lines right there.” He touches them. “When you’re thinking really hard. I’ve watched when you’re doing your homework in the studio.”
“That’s kinda stalkerish and creepy.” I start to walk toward one of the food vendor trucks. “Didn’t you promise cotton candy, or something?”
He takes my hand and holds it above my head and twirls me. “Something.” He pulls me into his arms. “Did you like dancing with me yesterday?” And just like that, the air is thick and I can barely breathe again. I nod. “Did it help you today during your audition? Do you think you had more confidence?” I swallow and zero in on his plump lips, wishing they were on mine. He rubs his nose against mine. “Say?”
“Yes, Sebastian.” What I can’t tell him is the only thing I thought about before I fell asleep last night was dancing with him. As my eyes closed and I drifted off to sleep, it’s what I was seeing in my mind, and I freaking loved it. It felt like a dream, and then it was one, and then I woke up hoping it wasn’t just that.
“Do you think your mom will let you come over and practice with me? My parents gave me a home studio for Christmas last year.”
My eyes bulge. “A studio?” That very notion blows my mind. We live in a two-bedroom house. There’s barely enough room for us, much less a studio.
Sebastian nods. “Ask her. My mom is usually around. She stays home.” The line moves and Sebastian takes his wallet out and offers the lady a five-dollar bill. “A cotton candy, please.” She gives him a bag and he hands it to me. “Unless you were serious about wanting a funnel cake, a sausage dog, corn dog, and all that other garbage you named off yesterday.” He smirks.
I snatch the bag and rip it open. “Thank you, Mr. Smarty-Pants. I saw a shirt the other day that said ‘WTF’ in big letters and below it, it said ‘Where’s the food?’. You think Robins would like it if I wore that to class? It was a crop top. It’d go great over my leotard.”
“Or without a leotard.” He waggles his eyebrows.
Nudging him, I say, “You’re a horny teenage boy,” as I shove a piece of pink cotton candy in my mouth.
“Not denying that.” He takes my other hand in his and leads us into a line. I’m not even paying attention until we’re about to board. That’s when I realize it’s the stupid Ferris wheel.
“Wait. What?”
He pulls me in. “You said you trusted me.”
“As my partner.” They latch the cross bar. There’s no escaping. My breaths increase in speed and frequency. “I’m going to have a panic attack.” The wheel moves a bit, then we stop.
“Trusting me as your partner also means trusting me as your partner in crime. It means trusting me in everything. Breathe.” He turns my chin. “Slower.”
My eyes focus on his and nothing else. The sea breeze blows our hair, the carriage rocks in the air, and with every move, my breathing hitches. “I’m.” Even though I’m speaking, I can barely even hear my own voice. “Going. To. Kill. You. When. We. Get. Down. If. We. Don’t. Die.”
He chuckles. “Really?”
“Uh. Huh.”
The ride jerks into motion again, and so does my heart because I swear it wasn’t beating for a few seconds. It stopped when we did. So, while we’re moving, I gasp for air, but Sebastian has other plans. His mouth is on mine, supplying my oxygen. His idea is so much better. Dropping the cotton candy in between my legs, my arms wrap around his shoulders as I hold him for dear life, and my eyes squeeze closed because I’m too afraid to open them.
When we stop again, he pulls back. “Look.” I shake my head. Vehemently. “Claire. The view. Don’t miss it. Look with me.” Opening them, I take in the most beautiful sight. The lights from the fair light up the white sea-foam of the breaking waves. Children laughing, music, buzzers, and dinging are drowned out by the whooshing of Sebastian’s heart beating in my ear as he pushes my head down on his chest. “How could you ever hate this ride?”
“I just haven’t been on it with the right person, I guess.” Because if he asks me my favorite ride again, this is it. With him, safe in his arms.
Every. Single. Time.
“Do you want a funnel cake next? Or a sausage dog, corn dog, or a caramel apple?” He walks backward, and I grab his arm, steering his body left and right to dodge people.
“I shouldn’t eat anything else here as tempting as it is.”
“Ah. You should, though, because the fair is only here once a year. What if you die before next year’s and this is your last chance?”
“Then, I wouldn’t miss it because I’d be dead.” People holler about us watching where we’re going. It’s kind of fun to be silly and stupid without a care in the world. Except now I have one. A care. A worry. “The last thing I need is Robins on me more about my weight.”
“There’s not an ounce of fat on your body, Claire.”
Releasing him and pulling my shirt up a little, I pinch my side. “See this?”
He chuckles and nods. “Skin. Wanna try another body part?” He waggles his eyebrows. I give him a playful shrug.
I cross my arms over my chest, the heat of judgmental eyes searing me. If I had an extra pair of hands, I’d cover my ears. And when that didn’t work, I’d chase the voice down my ear canal with my fingers, but it’d only get louder until it was deafening.
A lady shoves a bite of sugar covered fried dough in her mouth, then, as if in slow motion, licks each of her fingers.
“You’re never going to be a good ballerina eating crap like that, Claire.”
“A ballerina doesn’t drink soda, Claire.”
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough food for the day, Claire?”
“Claire.” Sebastian shakes my shoulders.
“Huh?” He stares in my eyes for a second, never releasing me. I contemplate telling him to take me home. Who was I kidding? Audrina was right. I’m a nobody. A terrible dancer. Definitely not Sebastian girlfriend material. The red, white, and blue lights blink and flicker around us. Games buzz, kids laugh and scream. Cigarette smoke makes me want to gag, but then a whiff of a sausage dog makes me want to inhale the whole food truck, and the corners of Sebastian’s lips start to curve up as his green eyes dance like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, and it’s a little more than disconcerting. “If you’re hungry, you eat.”
“Forget the food. I’m not hungry. Let me go see if I can win you a giant teddy bear, or something.” He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the booths lining the edges of the paths. He stops. “A love meter.”
“A little early for that, don’t ya think? I mean, I don’t typically fall in love on first dates. And we’re a bit young.”
“I don’t think it measures if we’re in love. Isn’t it like a future predictor thing? Like what our future holds?” He glances back.
I shrug. “Do they give teddy bears?”
He closes his eyes as he gives a small laugh. “Maybe on the next one. Come here.”
He puts the money in, positions my hands over the cold metal, leans his front against my back, and wraps his arms around me so his hands are over mine.
“Wait. I think this is a one person thing. I think this measures an individual’s sex appeal.” I try to point to the top, but he has my hands trapped. “See.” I bob my head toward the sign.
He leans in to my ear. “Oops.” He lets his breath linger. My pulse accelerates as the meter climbs. “I wasted my money then because I already knew it was off the charts.” It dings at red hot, and that accurately describes every particle of my being. He lightly kisses the skin on the side of my neck. Who cares about teddy bears? I’ve won the only thing that matters—Sebastian Reyes.
We’ve passed the hours by riding all the favorites I mentioned to Sebastian earlier. It’s safe to say attentive is one of his many positive character traits. There’s a seaside arcade by the fairgrounds that stays open year-round, and we walked there hand in hand except for the few seconds I let go to put my hair in a loose top knot. My bangs are choppy, uneven, and long. “I have a love hate relationship with these.”
“Me too,” he says, barely smiling.
“You don’t like them?”
“I don’t like what they represent. I think they’re cute, though.” He grabs my hand back.
“How’d you know I didn’t just chop them off myself?”
He gently bumps into my hips as we stroll toward the arcade, the waves crashing in the distance, and the branches of the palms do a tango over our head. “I don’t know. I just knew. You haven’t had bangs since you were little, and you aren’t rebellious. You wouldn’t go against Robins like that.”
“You’re rebellious.” I glance over and put my hand on his arm, pulling him closer. He smirks. “You love to go against Robins.”
“I’m not rebellious. I keep Robins young.”
My grin spreads. “Is that what they’re calling it these days? Keeping people young?” We enter the arcade and he pulls me toward the Skee-Ball machine.
“I saved this for last.”
“Great.”
“It is great. It’s the best game ever invented.”
When I fail miserably by throwing one of my balls off my track and into one of his holes, he bursts out laughing, takes one of his brown wooden balls, and grabs my palm, turning it face up. “Here.” His brows bunch together. Suddenly, he’s so serious.
“What?”
“Have you never played this your entire life?”
Pursing my lips, I shake my head. Boys, games, and their competitions. “How could you have lived here your whole life and never played this?” His eyes search mine, his look one of complete bewilderment.
My mind tells my mouth to speak. My lips move, but the words aren’t there, so I swallow the lump forming in the back of my throat. Then I realize I’m not sure which words I’m trying to form. The ones that string together, “No one ever invited me and games aren’t fun alone.” Or, “Games cost money, and we don’t have any extra after ballet.” Instead, nothing comes.
“Here. Underhanded.”
“Oh. I feel stupid now.”
“Don’t.” He pulls my arm back and guides it forward. “Steady like this. Release it. Now.”
My fingers let go of the ball and it hits the center of the board and rolls up, takes a turn to the right, bounces off the cup, and falls down to the bottom. The area that has no numbers. The machine blares some noise, flashes some numbers, and discharges another ball. Sebastian returns to his side. “There. You do the rest. You’ll be a pro in no time.”
“So, I take it that wasn’t pro level?”
I stand and take in his side profile. He’s lunging, one knee bent in front of the other, and even his Skee-Ball form is graceful. His black hair is in disarray from the wind, and his dark lashes so long I’m envious. Seriously, they sell ones just like those in the makeup section in a box with glue. Or maybe the glue is separate. Mom buys mine for me. Why do cute guys get theirs for free? Because not all guys get lucky in the eyelash department.
He glances over. “Um, no. But the machine cuts off if you just stand there, though.”
“Oh. I’d rather watch you play. And you’re fast, so maybe you could play mine and yours.”
“The whole point of going to the arcade with someone is to play with them, Claire.”
“I’ve never been to the arcade with someone, so I wouldn’t know.”
He stops and stares at me. The balls crash into each other. He shakes his head. “I didn’t think I could hate those girls more.”
“Momma told me not to hate people.” I say it in a sugary sweet way. The way I always repeat it in my mind, mocking her immediately after she says it to me.
He rights himself and glances at his watch. “I better get you home, but do you wanna walk on the beach first? What time’s your curfew?”
“Eleven.” I point at him. “Not a minute before and not a minute after.” That’s how she does it too. How does she have the ability to make it seem like she’s near me, knows what I’m doing even when she’s not? “What time is it?”
“We have enough time. C’mon.” He pulls me through the open double doors, down the steps of the pier, and I slip my faux ballet slippers off when we get in the sand. A cold front has come through, and that coupled with the beach breeze sends shivers down my arms. The grains of sand are cool as they slither between my toes. Sebastian leads us to a dune, sits, and pulls my back between his spread legs so we’re both facing the edge of the earth. “Thank you for tonight, Claire.” He wraps his arms around my waist, and I squeeze them.
“I should be the one thanking you. Were you serious…” I’m almost afraid to ask because if he wasn’t, I’m not sure I want to know. Ignorance is bliss. It sure beats the heck out of rejection. “When you said you wanted me to practice with you?”
He nuzzles my neck. Sitting here like this is confusing. On the one hand, my limbs are completely lax. The sounds of the waves have my body in Zen mode. The only thing that could have me more relaxed is someone massaging my muscles, but then his able hands skim up my back and find my shoulders and start to do just that. “Of course, I did.” Kiss. “Do you trust me?”
“Uh huh.”
“Then relax.”
He squeezes my shoulders and presses his thumbs in my neck. It. Feels. So. Good. Sharp zaps of electricity I’ve never felt before surge within me as the sea creeps closer and closer. He sweeps the tendrils of hair that have fallen from my top knot and brushes his lips against the exposed flesh of my neck as he works every muscle in that general vicinity. The stars begin to blur as I close my eyes and enjoy the sizzling sensations coursing through my veins. “When do you think we can start practicing together?” I ask, my voice throatier than normal.
“We already are.”
“Excuse me?”
“Everything we’ve done tonight is practice.”
I whip my head around. “This was practice to you?” I feel the tears threatening to cloud my vision, but I refuse to allow them to make their presence known. “Some kind of a game?” Is he in on a bet with the mean girls? Was this a joke? Get Claire to trust you, open her heart, fall into your arms, and then drop her? My head’s starting to shake, my body is trembling. My chest is beginning to rise and fall way too fast. Oh no. Every time he’s asked me if I trust him, and I’ve said yes without hesitation, and now I feel like a fool. Maybe I don’t trust him, but I do. Maybe I shouldn’t.
He shakes his head. “No.” Then he smirks and puts his hands up. “It’s not like that. I mean, everything we do together is practice because the more we get to know each other, the better partners we’ll become.”
I sigh. “You scared me.”
Under the light of the moon, I see his eyes dance. “I thought you were going to burst out in tears on me and bolt. What kind of guy do you think I am? You called me rebellious earlier. What other adjectives do you have for me?”
I bite my lip and glance away, hugging myself.
He tugs my chin. “Are you cold? Or…” We stare into each other’s eyes. Do I tell him that for a few seconds I didn’t trust him? Or that I don’t know if I should move forward? That doubts are creeping in my mind? I can’t. The night has been too perfect. I can’t ruin it.
“What time is it?”
He squints and runs a hand through his jet-black hair. “Time to go, huh?”
I think it may be too late. Will this be what we remember? The awkward moment at the end? Or the weird food moment when he had to shake the Claire out of me? I stand up, kiss his cheek, letting my lips linger in case it’s the last time I get to taste his skin, and whisper, “Yeah.”
We didn’t hold hands on the way back to the car. Sebastian opened the door for me like he did before, which is probably just the way he was raised, and we’ve been listening to music. The silence is getting the better of me. Maybe he’s just tired or wants to give me space. I don’t want to be needy or nosy. My favorite guilty pleasure is watching reality television, and the most entertaining and desperate girls on the dating shows are both of those.
