Fall Into Forever (13 page)

“Smart sister.”

“Thanks.”

“I was referring to your little sister.” Smirking, I pour maple syrup over my waffles.

She opens her mouth to reply, but casts a glance behind her first. The little boy is still looking at us. His parents must be happy that he finds us so entertaining. Leaning toward me so the little boy won’t hear, she whispers, “A-hole.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh loudly. She can be such a goddamn smartass when she wants to be. And I totally love it.

She’s got something on her chin. I reach over and wipe it off with my thumb. “Strawberry juice.” Without thinking, I lick it off my thumb.

She drops her gaze and her cheeks redden. “Thanks.”

I section off a piece of the omelet, one that has a lot of sausage and mushrooms, and hold the bite out to her. “Here. You first.”

She looks skeptically at my fork, then back at me.

“If you’re concerned about germs, I haven’t taken a bite yet. My fork is clean.”

“I’m not worried about your germs, Jon,” she says softly.

My heart thuds in my chest as our eyes meet. I think about how much we kissed last night and wonder if she’s thinking the same thing.

“Go on,” I say, my voice hoarse. “It’s getting cold.”

“You’re not going to smear it on my face, are you?”

“I’m not five. Now, eat.”

She leans forward, takes the bite from me, and chews.

“Is it good?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Is it a flavor explosion of epic proportions?” I ask in my radio voice, quoting the menu.

“Actually, it is.” Now she gives me a bite.

Okay. It is delicious. Even with the mushrooms. “I could get used to having you feed me. Do you cook, too?”

“Not unless you do.” She looks at me expectantly. Was that an invitation?

If I said I did, would she want to cook with me? “I do sometimes. Next time, you’ll have to come over.”

“What’s your specialty?” she asks, taking another bite.

“What else? Waffles.”

As we eat, I learn that Ivy’s father owns a once-successful construction company, but business hasn’t been good, so he’s been drinking a lot. Her mother works for the local school district and is always stressed out. Her little sister Rose is a sophomore in high school.

“Enough about me. I want to know about you,” she says. “You’re a chemistry major, right? I heard you’re a tutor for the hundred-level classes.”

Sara must’ve told her, which means they were talking about me. Normally, I like being the topic of female conversation, but for some reason, it makes me feel sort of awkward. “For a few different science classes, actually. I’m majoring in applied chem.”

“That’s cool. Now I know who to call if I need help.”

“Are you taking a science class this quarter?”

She nods. “Biology 101 with Professor Weller…along with half the freshmen.”

“Yeah, his classes always fill up fast. You’ll like him. He’s a good guy. Lots of homework, though.”

“Great.” She waves her hands with mock enthusiasm, making me chuckle. “Just my luck.”

“You’ll have to come study in the science library. It’s got a good study vibe, if that makes sense.” She looks confused. I can’t tell if she thinks that’s weird or if she’s never heard of the science library. “It’s in the new building right next to the Fine Arts building, where we have photography.”

“Don’t I have to be a science major to use it?”

“Everyone assumes that, but anyone can go. It’s the best-kept secret on campus. And the coffee shop on the first floor makes the best scones. Better than anywhere else on campus.”

“Good to know. I’ll have to check it out.”

I can’t tell if she’s just saying that or if she’s really interested. Hell, why am I so unsure of her reactions to me? This is, like, basic shit. But with Ivy, it’s like I’m walking in uncharted territory. Everything is new, different.

“So what do you want to do with your Applied Chem degree?” she asks.

Should I give her my standard answer or tell her what I’d really like to do with it? Since she opened up about what happened to her, I decide to tell her the truth. “I thought about going to medical school, but I’ll probably end up working in a lab. Several biomedical companies recruit here, so hopefully I’ll land a job with one of them after graduation.”

“Medical school? You were considering becoming a doctor?”

I instantly regret saying anything. Does she think I’m joking? That I’m not good enough?

“Can’t picture me as a doctor, huh?” I try to sound casual, but I can’t hide the edge creeping into my tone. Although I’m used to people having low expectations of me, I wasn’t expecting that reaction from her, too. I’m not sure what the fuck I was thinking. Turning my attention back to the food on my plate, I stab a forkful of hash browns.

Ivy reaches across the table, her hand closing around mine, making the shredded potatoes fall off my fork. I jerk my head up, thinking I’ll see amusement or ridicule in her expression. But I don’t. Her head is tilted slightly, and she looks…interested.

“Well, that depends,” she says.

“On what?” I ask cautiously.

“First of all, you seem like a really caring person. For a guy who’s on the radio and used to talking, you’re a surprisingly good listener. Since you’re a chemistry tutor, you’re obviously smart
and
good at explaining things to people who don’t understand something.”

The air around me goes thick all of a sudden and the lump in my throat turns into an elephant. Except for my mom, no one’s ever thought I was caring before, and that was a long time ago. I flex my fingers, recalling how she held my hand that day, squeezing until the bones felt like they were about to crack.

“Mom, you don’t have to do this,” I kept my head turned away from where the tattoo artist was leaning over her chest. “You’re fine just the way you are. Who cares about scars?”

“You’re so compassionate, Jonny. So caring.” She grabbed my hand and held on as if it were a lifeline as the tattoo needle buzzed. “How did someone like me become the mother of someone like you?”

I swallow hard at the memory. “What else does it depend on?” I ask Ivy.

“On how accurate my first impression of you is.”

I’m confused. “The night we met, I helped you off the roof. I thought I was being a nice guy.”

“No, before that. The first time I saw you was when you were beating the crap out of some dude. Remember?”

Oh.

“So, yeah, doctor isn’t the first profession that comes to mind. Now, if you’d told me you were training to be an MMA fighter or hit man, I’d go, hmmm, I can totally see it.”

A huge weight falls from my shoulders and we both laugh.

As we finish breakfast, I hear all about her little sister’s obsession with One Direction, her rescue dog Torque (at first I thought she said his name was Dork), and her friend Deena in LA who is studying to become a voice actress.

When we get back to my bike, Ivy takes the helmet but doesn’t put it on. “About the doctor thing.”

I start to tell her that there is no
doctor thing
, but she keeps going.

“I do have a slight problem with it.”

This should be interesting. Instead of putting on my helmet, I tuck it under my arm. “You do?”

“If you showed up in my hospital room and said you were going to operate on me, I wouldn’t be able to think straight. For one thing, I’ve never seen a doctor who looks like you.” A mischievous glint sparkles in her eye as she puts on the helmet. “But then, maybe all big-city docs are hot and tatted up, and I’m just some clueless girl from a small town.”

Without waiting for my reaction, she climbs on the back of the bike, all confident and shit, like she’s done it a million times. Meanwhile, I’m standing here, my mouth open wide, not sure what just happened.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks.

I laugh and shake my head. “I’m not sure if that was supposed to be a compliment or an insult.”

“What? I’m serious. I’d be embarrassed if a gorgeous young doctor was about to see me naked. As in, freaking mortified. I’d clutch my robe and tell you to take a hike.”

Pediatric medicine is what I’d been thinking about, not surgery, but whatever. God, I want to kiss the hell out of her right now. It’s not helping matters that she looks so damn hot straddling my bike.

I start to make a move. Fortunately, I catch myself just in time. Without the backdrop of a pub or party, a kiss in the middle of the day is way more meaningful. I’d be moving into dangerous territory, and I’m not sure I can afford to let that happen. She stirs me up inside like no one else does, which honestly scares the shit out of me. She’s too perfect, too sweet, too fun. And I’m too fucking fucked up. I’ve done bad things. Things I want to forget. She’s responding to Jon, the ‘church is now in session’ guy. The guy with all the friends. The guy who says what a girl wants to hear in order to sleep with her.

Not Jon, the foster kid who barely finished high school because he was sent to juvie. Or the guy whose own father doesn’t think he’s good enough.

No, I don’t want her to know the real me, because if she does, she’ll only be disappointed. Plus, I have a knack for fucking up people’s lives. My mere existence fucked up my mom’s.

The ride back to her dorm takes about five minutes. When we get there, she climbs off and hands me the helmet.

“Thanks for breakfast. That was fun.” Her eyes flicker up to mine but don’t linger. I know she was expecting me to kiss her back there. Or maybe she’s thinking I’ll kiss her now.

“Sure, no problem.”

The silence stretches awkwardly between us.

She takes a step backward. “See you in class on Monday?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Still wearing my coat, she turns and walks away.

Don’t go
, I want to tell her.
It’s early and the day is long.

Why didn’t I ask her to come to Stella’s with me? We could’ve picked up her coat and…

Just before she gets to the bottom step, she hesitates and slowly turns around. Her eyes are narrowed, as if she’s surprised I’m still here. “Have you started on that photography project yet?”

“What photography project?”

“The one with the themes.”

It sounds vaguely familiar. “When is it due?”

“Um, Monday.”

Damn. “No, not yet.”

“Do you…uh…want to work on it together?”

“Together?” My chest constricts. “When?”

She squints at the gray sky. “It’s supposed to rain tomorrow. If you’re not busy, we could do it right now.”

Every part of me wants to say yes. “I’m meeting someone soon, but I should be back around four. Would that work?”

“That might be too late. It gets dark around four-thirty. We could try tomorrow. Maybe it won’t be as rainy as they’re saying it will be.”

“Unless…”

Her eyes meet mine. Waiting. Hopeful?

“Unless you want to come with me.”

“To your friend’s?” She looks skeptical.

“Not a friend from here. A family friend. She lives half an hour away, down the coast. If you want, we can bring our cameras and stop on the way to take pictures.”

Her smile lights up her whole face. The cement sidewalk between us. My heart.

“Sure. That sounds fun. Give me a minute to grab my camera. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“I’ll be here.”

* * *

Ivy

Jon is waiting for me at the curb, right where I left him. I sling my camera bag over my head and give a dorky wave as I jog down the steps. Cassidy couldn’t believe it when I told her I’d just had breakfast with Jon and that we were going to work on a class project today.

“He’s totally hot and I’m thrilled for you,” she said, “but don’t let him break your heart. I was talking to this girl, Tina, last night while you guys were dancing. She was at the Hardware with another guy, but she said she and Jon have regular booty calls.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t plan to fall in love with him. We’re just working on a project together.”

What I didn’t tell her was that I like how I feel when I’m with him. I’m not scared or panicked or confused or wimpy. When I’m with him, my jumbled-up parts aren’t the jagged pieces they usually are. And talking about the accident with him didn’t give me a headache. You know how being around toxic people adds to your insecurities and makes you feel bad about yourself? (If not, lucky you.) Well, Jon is the opposite of that for me.

Now I’m at the curb, eyeing his bike. I was fine riding on the back of his motorcycle across town, but I’m not sure about driving along a winding two-lane road way above the ocean. One wrong shift of my weight and—

“So I was thinking… What if we take my car instead?”

He pats the bike between his legs. “This make you nervous?”

I can’t tell if he means to be suggestive or if I’m just taking it that way, but my cheeks feel like they’re on fire. “My camera stuff is…is kind of bulky and it might rain. I really don’t mind driving.”