Page 29 of Falling Backwards (The Edge of Us #1)

Damn, I’m tired.

Not so tired that I’m going to back out of this dinner, though. Since Joy took Maggie to work this morning and then picked her up for that doctor’s appointment right before my own shift started, I haven’t seen her all day. All we’ve been able to do is text. I know I could see her whether dinner happens or not, but whatever. If she wants to go out, then I want to go out.

I’ve also heard great things about this Italian restaurant. Paxton has been to it a few times. I tend to forget it exists since it’s across town from the places I usually am. Plus, it’s been a minute since my friend and I have hung out. He’s been talking to Emma—pretty casually, I think, but still—and I’ve given basically all my free time to Maggie.

I wouldn’t wanna be casual with her.

The unbidden thought catches me off-guard.

I blink it and its accompanying stomach swoop away as I turn into the restaurant’s crowded lot. It’s time to focus on searching the evening for somewhere to park, not on how it would sit horribly with me if Maggie wasn’t completely mine because I was only seeing her halfway.

But what am I even talking about? She’s already not mine. She hasn’t been mine in forever.

And really, she wasn’t mine when we were sixteen either because the way we started out was—

I stomp on the brake, startled, as if that group of people is right in front of my car, not merely nearing it from some parked—

A sharp breath precedes another stomach swoop.

It’s Maggie.

She’s with that group of people because it’s my group of people. They’ve all arrived at the same time, just before I have.

And she’s crossing in front of my car behind the others, gently illuminated by my headlights. The wind is ruffling her dark hair and causing her to hug herself; she’s in a gray sweater, a short and fitted black skirt, and more sheer black tights. She’s the only one who isn’t chattering—and she’s the only one turning her eyes to me.

Noticing who I am.

Breaking out into a smile.

Picking up her pace to hurry to my window.

I mash the fucking button so hard it hurts my finger.

As the glass lowers, her mouth seems to form the word, “Hi.”

Her voice is too light to be heard over the buzzy window and the noise from the parking lot and nearby road.

I try to say, “Hey,”

loudly enough, but it’s almost a yell because I’m so oddly rattled. After a moment of surprise, she giggles, which rattles me more and has me babbling.

“Sorry for almost hitting you with my car just now. I promise I wasn’t speeding through here. I was just thinking—I was thinking about—uh—”

I’m gesturing at her before I can stop myself.

Between that and how I’m awkwardly apologizing for something I didn’t almost do, my cheeks are flushing.

Maggie’s amusement gentles away. She tucks her shifting hair behind one ear and lets her eyes drift over my face.

We both open our mouths to speak—but we’re stopped by the honk of a car horn.

I look behind me and see I’m holding up diner traffic. Cool, more embarrassment for me.

“Oh, you better go,”

she rushes out, stepping away again.

“I—yeah. See you in a second.”

She gets out of the way and waves apologetically at the car behind me, from which a man calls out.

“This ain’t a flirtin’ lot, sweetheart, it’s a parkin’ lot!”

Before she walks out of sight, I glimpse how bashful that makes her feel.

In a way, I want to tell that guy to shut the hell up, but I know he has a point. Maggie and I can…flirt…once we’re both standing on solid ground.

Once I commit to finding a parking space, it doesn’t take long to do. I manage to stay out of La-La Land and walk through the lot without being run over myself. It helps that the temperature has dropped again; though I enjoyed the slightly warmer weather, this chilly wind is good for quickly clearing my head.

As I approach where the group is gathered at a bench outside the entrance, I notice the wind isn’t good for a certain lovely girl who has no coat on. Maggie still has her arms wrapped around herself, looking cold.

She also looks like she’s trying to locate me in the parking lot while the others go on talking and laughing.

I smile about that—and try not to dwell on the ways in which I’d be happy to warm her up—at almost the same time that her eyes land on me. She’s instantly smiling again, too, and coming towards me as I make a beeline for her.

This time when she speaks, I hear it much better.

“We meet again.”

In a much more normal tone than before, I say.

“And again it delights me.”

And again she giggles.

And again it’s a special kind of music to my ears.

“We have to wait out here until our table is ready,”

she tells me.

“The indoor waiting area is already full.”

I raise an eyebrow and slip a look over her.

“You gonna make it? Where’s your coat?”

She tsks.

“Didn’t occur to me that I should bring one until after we were outside our building. We were already supposed to be on the way here, so I decided not to go back upstairs.”

“Ah.”

Yeah, she wouldn’t want to be late.

“Oh, what’s up, dude?”

Paxton’s voice hits my ears. I turn my attention that way just in time to see him stepping over to us. Everyone else comes along too.

I slap hands with him.

“Hey, man. You good?”

“Be better once I get some food! Y’all are gonna love this place! And hey, this is Bradley from work. Brad, meet Luke.”

I shake hands with him, then exchange pleasant greetings with Emma and Joy. I’ve noticed lately that they’ve relaxed at the sight of me, quite unlike at different times before Maggie and I started pretending to date. It makes me feel like they’ve put some trust in me, like they don’t see me and automatically prepare for their friend to be annoyed somehow.

It’s nice.

For the next couple minutes, we all chat as a group. There’s some surface-level talk of how our days went and some comments on how long we might have to wait to be seated—and I notice how Maggie rubs her arms when ‘half an hour’ gets tossed out there. Then Paxton and Bradley tell us all about the things they like to eat here, even though I’ve already heard the former wax poetic about the chicken parmigiana.

A cold gust blows through, and the others keep talking, seeming only mildly discomfited. But next to me, Maggie curls in on herself, looking like she can’t stay focused on the discussion because all she can think about are the many tiny places the wind is seeping into her clothes.

In fact, as a soup gets mentioned, I think I hear her mutter.

“I’d like to take a bath in some soup right now.”

No one else catches it, but it makes me chuckle even as I face her and say seriously.

“Come here, gorgeous.”

I put a hand on her shoulder and tug her towards me.

Her eyes leave the others and go all over me.

“What? Come to where?”

“To me.”

I open my coat.

She blinks.

I wait.

Then she steps all the way up to me despite appearing to have more questions. She pins her arms between us and cradles her fists to herself, and I wrap my coat around her the best I can, cocooning her into it with me. I can’t quite keep the fabric closed at her back—there’s enough of it to warm her, but not enough to button us both in since one coat isn’t made for two people, so I have to hold it. I don’t mind, though.

How could I mind when this puts her so close to me?

She says.

“Oh my gosh,”

on a sigh, her voice muffled now that it’s at my chest.

“You’re so warm.”

“You’re cold,”

I counter only slightly playfully. Now that we’re touching, I can feel her shivering, and I hate that she’s probably been doing it since getting out of the car.

I become aware of her fists unfurling, flattening against my chest, letting her settle that much closer to me.

She could be closer still.

I want it, and I dare to hope she does too.

I lick my dry lips, which invites a cutting attack from the cold air. Doesn’t snap me out of my urge, though. Beneath our friends’ ongoing discussion, I murmur.

“Put your arms around me if you want to.”

There’s no way to miss the stutter in her inhalation.

But her motions are smooth as she unfolds herself and slips her arms around my waist. I adjust my embrace and close her into a bit more of my coat, and her hands now settle flat on my back, beneath my shoulder blades.

I’m the one with stuttering breaths this time because I love the comfort she offers—and because I can almost imagine her hands not having my clothes beneath them.

Part of me wishes I wouldn’t think delicious things like that about her. She’s not wholeheartedly my girlfriend, so daydreaming is nothing but a special form of torture. But the rest of me can’t help it whatsoever. The moved way she makes me feel comes so easily now, like heartbeats.

I’m warmed in a unique way by her, whether I’m supposed to be or not.

She has all but snuggled into me.

“Thank you.”

I tell her sincerely, “Anytime.”

Her laugh is small.

“Oh, don’t say that. I’ll be hugging you constantly.”

“Oh, but what if that’s what I want?”

She snorts into a heartier chuckle, which makes me laugh too.

“Get close to me anytime,”

I reiterate, and my blood warms a little at the candid invitation and the possibility of her taking me up on it.

Before she can respond, Paxton says.

“Luke, you brought the card game, didn’t you?”

My train of thought shifts. I recall being asked to bring What Do You Meme? with me…which I did not recall being asked to bring before I left home.

I click my tongue.

“Nope, sure the eff didn’t. I’m so tired today—I forgot all about it.”

“Old ass,”

he quips at the same time Joy brightly assures me it’s okay that I forgot. The others laugh about the different answers.

From here in my personal space, Maggie agrees.

“Yeah, it’s okay. I’m really tired myself. I forgot this dinner was even happening until Joy mentioned it a couple hours ago.”

I tell the group.

“I’ll swing by home on the way to Pax’s place and get it.”

After they approve of that, I add to Maggie alone.

“Sorry you’re tired too. Maybe you should’ve gone to sleep at a decent time instead of talking to your boyfriend on the phone for hours.”

“Or maybe my boyfriend should’ve been so boring that sleeping sounded better than talking to him.”

That makes me smile.

I feel her smiling, too, against my chest.

I dip my mouth closer to her ear and say more quietly still.

“I have a confession.”

She lifts her head, but not enough to look at me. “Okay.”

“I don’t even know where the card game is. My mom bought it for me last Christmas and I haven’t had a big enough social group to play with, so there’s no telling where I stashed it. I only know it’s somewhere in my apartment.”

This earns me full, Maggie-shaking laughter that spreads to me and has our friends asking what we’re cracking up about.

“Nothing,”

I lie. I don’t want to let anyone else into this with us.

Maggie doesn’t tell the truth either.

But she does lift a soft, laugh-laced kiss to my jaw.

Fireworks explode in that spot.

And away from it.

And down through all the rest of me.

Tingling, sparking, more than a little breathtaking.

Maggie is kissing some part of me.

Having agreed that something like this would be okay is not the same as experiencing it, and I mean that in the absolute best way.

A couple of our friends have started cooing and saying we’re cute; I’m still grinning, but not about them. I can’t place who’s voicing what because it feels like a bit of distance has suddenly grown between my and Maggie’s coat bubble and the rest of the world.

“I can’t quite reach your cheek standing like this,”

she says shyly, as if in apology.

I want to tell her not to be sorry.

Instead, I lower my head and press my lips to her jaw right back, firmly, not shyly at all.

And I don’t know if she hoped for it or not, but her entire body reacts to it.

And I think I’m the only one who notices—I’m the only one who can hear her trembling sigh and feel the fleeting press of her fingertips into my back and pick up on how she goes just weak enough in the knees that I have to hug her a little more tightly.

And I instantly want more; I want to feel her do all of it with my lips on more places than here, with my fingertips mapping out her body, with her hands outright gripping me somewhere, anywhere, keeping me against her so I won’t stop, can’t stop.

And I have no, no, no time to focus on any of this right here and now.

So I follow the kiss up with a rushed redirection.

“Did I hear you say a minute ago that you wanna take a soup bath?”

Don’t even think about thinking about her in a bath. Not even a soup one.

She’s laughing easily, but it’s a breathless sound.

“Yeah, I…I was really cold.”

She pauses.

“Not anymore. Now I just wanna eat soup because it sounds good.”

“I’m glad to have helped.”

Understatement.

I clear my throat.

“Do you know what kinds of soup they have here?”

“Not really. I think someone mentioned a Tuscan something a few minutes ago.”

I get the group’s attention and ask about that. Joy eagerly pulls out her phone to bring up the menu on the website.

Bless her, because I wasn’t going to let this hug end, even for a minute, so that Maggie or I could do it.

—

The place turns out to be as awesome as Paxton promised. My salad and pesto pasta are fantastic, and so are Maggie’s chicken gnocchi soup and pasta carbonara—we’ve traded bites more than once because we both can’t get enough. And our group has had a good time talking and laughing. Joy and Bradley are getting along as great as was hoped for. Paxton and Emma have a good vibe, so even though they’re not an official thing, they’re also not awkward. Maggie and I have been sitting close together, have been holding hands for most of the dinner; even being a pretend-type gesture, I swear it’s one we both actually mean.

Still, I am exhausted by the time we’re all ready to leave. Like, straight-up.

Maggie is the only other one in our group who doesn’t seem to have gained the energy food is supposed to give. She’s been yawning for the last…hell, I don’t even know what length of time. It has made me yawn repeatedly, but our friends are still looking forward to moving the get-together to Paxton’s. And I’m still expected to go find the card game and bring it over so we can all play.

At least Maggie and I decided she’ll go with me. That makes the stop-off sound better.

I try to wake up while we pay and head outside, but even the cold night doesn’t help. It just furthers how badly I want to find a blanket and close my eyes.

“Okay, we’re all meeting at my place, right?”

Paxton asks.

“Luke and Maggie are gonna grab the game on their way over?”

Everyone agrees, including her, though her agreement is just a nod paired with yet another yawn.

It ends as my next one begins, and she tells the group.

“Everybody drive safely.”

Then she waves lazily at Emma and Joy.

“I’ll see you in a little bit, sisters.”

The girls all smooch at each other, and I exchange nods with the guys. Then we split up.

In the car, I hand Maggie my phone, which feels heavy to my tired body.

“Wanna pick a song?”

“Mmm. Sure.”

While she messes with that, I mess with the heater and get us going.

“Aw.”

She sounds happy even through her tiredness.

“You saved ‘Rome.’ Do you like it?”

It’s one of the songs she told me about on the phone the other night. I’d never heard of that singer before—Dermot whoever—but what a place to start.

I reply.

“Sure did save it. It’s good.”

“Yeah, it is. What beautiful lyrics.”

Nodding, I get ready to turn the stereo volume up.

“That what we’re listening to?”

She answers by playing it.

I’m pleased even though it’s not the best song to listen to while sleepy.

Indeed, although I soak up the words and the melody and the way the guy sings, enjoying every bit and vaguely noting the ways in which this song makes me think about Maggie, I can’t seem to find my second wind. Can’t seem to summon excitement for our evening continuing at Paxton’s place, or to want to listen to something more upbeat after this. Even when “Rome”

drifts to an end on bittersweet piano keys and I’ve turned the volume down again, I can’t so much as think of any conversations to start.

Maggie seems to be in the same boat. All she does is choose another song—“Take on the World,”

which also reminds me of her—and listen to it on low with me.

We’re back to yawning by the time we’re sluggishly climbing the stairs to my apartment.

While I’m unlocking the door, she mumbles something I can’t make out.

“Huh?”

I mumble back.

“No idea where the game is?”

“Ugh, no. Maybe I can find it quickly.”

Gotta say, I’m not too tired to notice how much better my home feels the instant she walks into it. Not too tired to appreciate it as much as I did last time.

I gesture at the living room.

“Feel free to sit. My kitchen’s not dirty right now, so you don’t have to worry about tidying it up.”

She chuckles drowsily, then offers.

“I can help look for the game.”

Well, duh. There’s an idea.

“Oh. Yeah, okay.”

I try to describe the box we’re looking for. Then I leave her in this part of the apartment while I take my bedroom.

Muttering nothings to myself, I drag around and try to make my brain focus on my surroundings. I check my closet, my nightstand, and beneath my bed. Check my dresser and then my closet again.

After a few minutes, I walk back towards Maggie.

“Don’t see it,”

I say. “Do you?”

Silence greets me. I trudge to a stop and look around…

…and see she’s slumped in a corner of my oversized chair, her head resting on one fallen arm. She’s asleep.

I almost roll my eyes at how she offered to help and then sat down and conked out.

But I actually don’t mind it.

We’re both very tired. It was hard for me to focus on the search too. Plus, despite that her outfit and melty positioning don’t seem terribly comfortable, she looks rather peaceful. She needed sleep and now she’s getting some.

I shuffle over to her and say gently, “Maggie?”

She doesn’t respond at all, just keeps breathing steadily and serenely.

And that is the extent of how hard I’m willing to try to wake her.

I walk back to my room, pulling my coat off as I go. I lay it on my bed along with my keys and wallet, then toe off my shoes while I call Paxton.

Hearing his jolly greeting makes me blink slowly—man, he’s really ready for more fun.

But I have to tell him.

“Hey, sorry, we came to my place to look for the game and Maggie passed out in my living room. I’m gonna let her sleep and probably lie down myself.”

“Aw, what!”

he complains.

“But memes!”

“I know,”

I say with a faint chuckle.

“Sorry, dude.”

“Party poopers!”

“That’s us. Are the girls there yet?”

They are, so I get him to put them on speakerphone so I can explain to them too.

“Poor Maggie!”

Joy says.

“I know she was so sleepy all day. I don’t blame her for sitting down somewhere comfy and dozing off.”

Emma adds.

“Yeah, thanks for letting us know. Take care of her or I’ll destroy you.”

I think I hear male laughter in the background—probably Bradley’s because he doesn’t know how serious she is.

Joy tells her.

“Maggie is perfectly safe with him. She’ll be fine.”

I confirm.

“She is and she will be. Swear on my life. Y’all good without us?”

“Oh, yeah, we’ll be fine too! It looks like Paxton is putting video games on the TV.”

“Good deal.”

The three of us promise to let each other know if any of us needs anything. Then I talk to Paxton one more time; he’s already back in his carefree mood, though he says he’ll miss hanging out with me and Maggie more.

“Maybe some other time this week?”

he suggests.

“Sounds good, Pax.”

Shortly, we’re off the call, and I’m free to let expectations and the rest of my day go.

I change into night pants and a thermal shirt, then set my folded pair of sweatpants near Maggie. She’s still asleep, but maybe she’d like to trade her skirt and tights for something more comfortable if she wakes up during the night. I carefully cover her with a throw blanket, make sure the door is locked, turn on the light above the kitchen sink and turn off the living room light, and stretch out on the couch.

Just like what must’ve happened to her, I’m hit with muscle-loosening fatigue almost as soon as I’m still.

I start drifting off, feeling soothed even as the sound of her exhalations reminds me of that gorgeous sigh she let out when I kissed her face.