Falling Slowly (Falling Novella Series Book 1) Page 2

Taking my hand, he leads me to his table. “You’re adorable.”

  At first, I feel a sense of outrage that he called me adorable. That he sees what everyone else sees. Plain, adorable, silly Rosie. But it quickly dissipates because I can only think about my hand in his, our skin touching, the warmth of his palm against my cool one.

  Normally, I would run out the door, but I vow to be different. To be more vibrant. To be more noticeable. To just be more.

  We’ve been sitting here at a little corner table for five minutes now. I’ve been giving Drew one-word answers to nearly everything he has asked me. The old Rosie and the new self-proclaimed confident Rosie are about to come to blows within me. I can feel it, and it’s not going to be pretty.

  I continue to watch him as he talks. Drew is different. I knew it the moment I looked up at his face when he kept me from landing on my wet behind. He is self-assured and comfortable in his skin. He is effortlessly put together. His eyes glowed with charm then, just as they are at this moment. I’m jealous. I feel seduced every time he glances my way. He exudes a boldness I didn’t know I wanted until I saw him again today. I want it for myself. I don’t just want it; I need it, and I’ve got to find a way to have it.

  “Well, this is the first,” he says, interrupting my thoughts.

  Blinking at him, I look up to find his eyes sparkling with humor. “I’m sorry, the first what?” I ask, thankful I actually heard what he said because I wasn’t paying attention.

  His smile goes crooked again. “The first time I’ve bored a woman into silence,” he replies, an amused lilt to his voice. “In fact, I’m not sure a woman has ever been bored with me.” He looks perplexed for a brief moment, then the look disappears into what I assume is his usual poised look.

  A blush runs through my cheeks and down my chest.

  “I’m so sorry. You’re not boring me; I’m a little preoccupied today,” I tell him, but of course, I leave out the part about just what is on my mind.

  “Good, I was beginning to worry,” he says, but he doesn’t look worried at all. “So, why haven’t I seen you before a week ago, Rosie Fisher?”

  I blush again, twisting a loose strand of hair around my finger. It’s a nervous habit my mother has been trying to break me of for years. Obviously, it has yet to work.

  “I was wondering the same thing the other day,” I confess. “I’m here all the time.”

  He smiles. “Well, we know one another now. I guess that’s all that matters.”

  “Yep. It seems so,” I say, smiling back. I sound ridiculous. Although I can’t see the grin I currently have plastered on my face, I know it looks forced. I’m sure it says, I’m an idiot who can’t carry on a normal conversation.

  Get a grip, Rosie. Jesus.

  I’m not sure why I do this when I get around guys or people in general. I guess it’s me.

  As I watch Drew’s face light up again, I’m struck by the idea once more that I want to be different. I want to change and be someone different. Someone new. I finally see what Michael meant when he told me he wanted someone with more confidence. I just need to figure out how I’m going to do it.

  Over the last two weeks, I’ve seen Drew on several occasions. Each time, he invites me to sit with him, and he chats away while I observe his every move. He talks but never reveals too much about himself. It’s usually meaningless chatter, which is fine. I can see he puts up walls and does it so flawlessly that he makes you feel like he is giving you a part of himself he isn’t sharing with anyone else. I find it fascinating.

  Of course, I interact with him some and with very little grace, as you can imagine. All the while, I daydream of how I just might be able to change into the smooth, collected person he seems to be.

  Today isn’t any different. He’s talking, and I’m watching the way he moves through our conversation with ease. Thinking. Taking it all in and still coming up with nothing. I really need to find help, but I’m trying to avoid the embarrassment of telling someone that I don’t like who I am. That I want to be different. My family would roll their eyes. Abbey? Maybe? A little excitement runs through me when Abbey’s voice pops in my head. She will get it. In fact, I’m pretty sure she will encourage it. Yes! Abbey! My face is hurting because my lips have spread so tight across my face. I let out a small snort. Sometimes I’m so clueless; why didn’t I think of her before?

  I hear a throat clearing across the table from me. Shit. I did it again.

  “There you go again,” he says in mock seriousness. “You’re really beginning to hurt my feelings.”

  “Oh, give me a break,” I tell him, rolling my eyes to avoid looking directly into his electric-blue. I noticed earlier, the flecks of gold I’ve seen before aren’t there. It doesn’t matter. They’re mesmerizing and beautiful regardless.

  He barks in laughter. It’s a pleasant sound. Even his laugh sounds unflappable. It hits me just as it has a dozen times over the last three weeks I’ve been around Drew; he is way out of my league. I may not have learned much about him personally, but that I have figured out.

  “Tell me something,” he states, suddenly becoming a little more serious. “Out of all the times we’ve sat here, you’ve hardly told me anything about you. I can’t figure you out. I know what I see, but I have no idea what you think about almost anything.” He leans forward and rests his chin in his hand. Feeling’s mutual, I think. Before I can respond, he continues, “Well, except black coffee. I know you hate black coffee.”

  This time, I’m the one who lets out a loud, very unladylike cackle. I cover my mouth quickly as my eyes widen in embarrassment.

  “You’re adorable, Rosie Fisher.” He laughs.

  Adorable. I really hate that word. Adorable. Ugh. Someone kill me now, because if I have to hear a guy call me adorable one more time, I think I may go crazy. I hate adorable.

  “See!” he exclaims. “Why that face?”

  I scrunch my nose up at him. “What face?” I ask.

  He points at me, a huge grin on his face like he just won a prize. “That one!” He laughs. “ I called you adorable, and you made that face like you’re disgusted. You have to tell me why.”

  I don’t know if I want to tell him why. He must notice my reluctance because he says, “Okay, let’s do this.” I look at him skeptically. His smile widens. “We’ll take turns asking one another questions, and we must answer it and answer it truthfully. Deal?”

  I’m not sure how comfortable I am with this, but I nod anyway.

  “Okay, since I’m putting you on the spot and this was my idea, you get to ask the first question,” he suggests.

  What do I ask him? I watch as he tries to keep his face neutral while I stare him down and contemplate what I will ask Drew. I could use this little game to my advantage so I can ask him anything I want without coming across as a weirdo.

  Tapping my finger to my chin like I’m thinking, I allow the questions to spin in my brain like a wheel. I’ll keep it safe and impersonal to start. “Okay, what do you do for a living?”

  A deep belly laughs echoes around us, but he quickly recovers. “Really, that’s the first thing you want to know?”

  I scowl at him, and he puts his hands up in defense of the annoyance I just aimed at him.

  “Okay…okay…well, I’m a graphic designer for a startup company in San Jose, but I work from home. I’m pretty lucky because I get to make my own hours,” he tells me. I can hear a bit of pride in his voice. “My turn, and I’ll cut you some slack by asking the same question. What does Rosie Fisher do for work?”

  My face lights up. This topic of conversation is my element. I love my job; it’s the one thing I’m confident of in my life. “I like that face...that’s a nice look on you,” he states so sincerely. At first, I’m confused by what he means by what he just said. I look at him and smile, but my confusion remains in my eyes. His face turns serious, but there is humor behind his features. “Your smile. It transforms you. You’re pretty, but when you smile like you did just now
, you’re something spectacular.”

  My eyes go wide, and the smile I’m wearing disappears. My face heats, and I start rubbing on my chest because those damn anxiety butterflies are fluttering around. He called me spectacular. Not beautiful or anything plain. Drew Nallen just called me spectacular.

  A normal person would say thank you. I’m not typical.

  Instead, I giggle and blurt out, “You’re so full of shit!”

  “What? Most people would say thank you,” he says, a bemused grin on his face.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him shyly. “I tend to say what’s on my mind. Thank you, even if it’s a ridiculous thing to say.”

  ‘Well, now I know you’re horrible at accepting a compliment, but I still don’t know what you do for a living,” he teases. He moves on from my protest of his compliment and waits for me to answer him.

  “I’m a copy editor for the local paper,” I answer him finally.

  “Nice. I’m going to assume from your spectacular smile—” he pauses and holds his hand up when I start to protest again “—the smile is because you love your job.”

  Nodding my head, I smile again because I can’t help myself. This time, I’m not sure if it’s because I’m talking about work or because of Drew. Either way, it doesn’t really matter.

  “Your turn,” he reminds me after a moment of silence.

  Ah, yes. My turn. What do I want to know about Drew Nallen now?

  “Do you have a girlfriend, or are you dating?” I feel myself turn red when the question leaves my mouth.

  Drew looks a little surprised by the question, but I can tell he is trying to figure out the best way to answer this question. Taking a deep breath, he says, “No girlfriend. I don’t do girlfriends anymore. I’m what you call a serial dater. I date. A lot. No attachments make life less complicated, and it’s easier on the heart.”

  I wait for him to continue because it looks like he might have more to say, but he doesn’t. His eyes cloud over with this distant look before he snaps out of it. He asks me his next question, and this begins our back-and-forth game for the next thirty minutes, learning as much as we can about one another. I’ve never felt so open and comfortable in my entire adult life.

  I glance down at my watch and realize I need to get back to work because I only have ten minutes left of my lunch break. Where did the time go? Drew notices and says, “Thanks for spending your lunch with me. I like you, Rosie Fisher.”

  It’s funny, but I’m suddenly struck by the fact that I really like Drew, too. “I like you too, Drew.”

  We both stand, and he waves goodbye to me as I walk away. I turn back one last time, and I know I can be anyone I want to be.

  Walking into the office like a woman on a mission, I take long strides toward Abbey’s desk. She looks up just as I reach her. Her expression transforms into one of concern.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks me as she stands up.

  “I need your help,” I tell her. “I don’t know what happened, Abbey,” I continue as I begin pacing around her desk. “One minute I was fine being me, the girl who is messy and awkward. The girl who had her heart broken. Then I met him, and I want to be something different.” I’m speaking so quickly I’m not even giving her time to respond. “Not that I want him. God, it would be nice to capture the attention of someone like Drew Nallen, but I’m not stupid. It’s not like I can suddenly morph into Kate Upton. I’m a little more realistic than that. I want to be an improved version of myself. Not for Michael. Not for a guy like Drew, but for me. Me, Rose Marie Fisher.”

  Finally taking a breath, I stop and face a silent Abbey. She regards me with an unsure look on her face. If I’m honest, that’s not unusual, but there is something different about the way her brown eyes haven’t left my face.

  Suddenly, she’s throwing her hands in the air, and she releases a long, drawn-out sigh. “What in the ever-loving hell are you talking about, Rosie?” She sounds exasperated, adding a dramatic flair to her tone. “You want to change! Are you insane?” Her eyes look a little wild. I take a small step back.

  Walking around her desk, Abbey stands in front of me now, wiping a cookie crumb from my cheek I didn’t even realize was there. Crap. I’m not sure if she realizes it or not, but Abbey is just as crazy as I am. Her breathing slows, and she says, “Okay, sorry. I just got off a really awful phone call, and your ramblings sent me over the edge. Did you just ask me to help you change?”

  Part of me wants to laugh at her because as ridiculous as she thinks I am, she is too. I mean, why else would she be my best friend? We’re different. We each have our own quirks, but the one thing that separates us is exactly what I need. Abbey De Diego is the most put-together, self-assured person I know.

  Pushing my shoulders back, I smile my most brilliant smile. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m asking you.”

  She walks over to me, putting her arms around me and squeezing me so tight I feel like my insides might break, then she releases me. “Oh, Rosie. You’re so cute.” I hate the tone of her voice. It’s the one she uses when she think she knows me better than I know myself. Sometimes when she talks to me this way, I imagine her patting me on the top of my head like I’m a little toy Yorkie. “I’ve been trying to get you to do this for years. I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, until I finally convinced myself it’s a hopeless cause. You, my friend, are exactly who you are, and it’s what I love about you. You don’t need to change. You just need to get laid.”

  Staring at the giddy look on her face, my mouth falls open. I am beginning to feel uncomfortable with this conversation. Laid? How does she always manage to highjack my plans and change my entire course?

  “I need to get laid,” I repeat out loud.

  Putting her hand on her hip, Abbey laughs. “That’s what I just said. You need to get out there. Experience life. Have no-strings-attached sex.” She pauses, a serious look on her face, then continues, “Safe, of course.”

  Nodding, I agree with her. “You’re right. I’m silly.” I place another smile on my face, trying to wrap my mind around how she can think this is even remotely a good idea. “Thank you for keeping me from embarrassing myself. I’ll just go out and get laid.” Sarcasm drips from every word.

  “I love you, Rosie. You’re perfect the way you are, even if I give you shit all the time for being a mess,” Abbey says sincerely. I know she means well. I know she wants what’s best for me. But she doesn’t realize that I’m tired of floating through life. I want a plan. I want more. And I’m going to figure out a way to be bolder—to be more. “Although, you could make sure you look in the mirror before you leave the house a little more often,” she says jokingly. I laugh because coming from anyone else that would be an insult, but Abbey loves clothes. She loves makeup and always looks impeccable. She honestly is trying to help.

  “You’re crazy, do you know that? We’re talking about me, Abbey. The girl whose fiancé broke off their engagement and ended their four-year relationship because she is boring, prudish, and not adventurous enough. That’s me,” I remind her.

  “That’s bullshit, Rosie, and you know it,” she protests. “Michael is a dick. He doesn’t know what he had, and frankly, he’s the one who made you boring. He never knew you. He held you back, and it’s time for you to act like the Rosie I know and love.”

  Abbey had once again begun pacing around me, but she is now stopped directly in front of me. Placing her hands on my shoulders, she smiles wide. “Rosie, I demand you date casually without expectations. Take your time. Be happy. Have fun because you deserve it.”

  She’s right. This is exactly what I need, and screw Michael.

  “You’re right. I’m doing it,” I declare. Abbey throws her fist in the air in triumph, then I’m struck with nerves. My eyes widen with fear. “Wait! How am I going to do this?”

  A smile spreads across her face, and she bats her eyelashes.

  “Match.com? The old school way…in a bar?” she suggests gleefully.

  Rollin
g my eyes, I hope I don’t regret bringing Abbey into this plan.

  When I walk into The Roasting Company the next afternoon, I nearly trip when I spot Drew sitting with a tall, thin blonde. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in here with someone else.

  I feel a little ache in the pit of my stomach, but quickly will it away.

  “Who are you staring at?” Abbey asks me as we sit down at one of the small tables against the front windows.

  Looking up at her, I frown. “I wasn’t staring,” I hiss quietly.

  “Uh huh, you were totally staring,” she argues.

  “Whatever, I wasn’t staring. I just happened to notice Drew,” I maintain, taking a sip of my mocha.

  Abbey turns her head to look in the direction I’ve been looking as we sit down. “Abbey!” I say in quiet exasperation. She whips back around almost immediately, a wide grin on her face. I can see something in her eyes I don’t think I like. It’s strange how I can know what she thinks before she even tells me. “Oh no, it’s not happening,” I insist.

  “Why not?” she whines.

  “Because!” I shout a little too loudly, my gaze shifting to where Drew is sitting. Damn it; he sees me now because he’s lifting his hand in a wave. I respond in kind. Turning back to Abbey, I notice her eyes on me, shining with a giddiness she has no right to feel. “No, I can’t. It’s Drew. He told me himself. He’s a serial dater. No commitment,” I explain.

  She’s making me nervous because her expression hasn’t changed.

  “Rosie, you just described the perfect guy for what you’re looking for...” Abbey tells me before I interrupt her.

  “No, I didn’t because it’s Drew,” I insist.

  “What’s Drew? Well, other than me,” a deep voice says from behind me.

  I freeze in my chair. Abbey must see the look on my face because she quickly stands and throws her hand practically in Drew’s face. “Hi, I’m Abbey, Rosie’s best friend. You must be Drew. She’s told me so much about you.”