Page 9 of Falling Backwards (The Edge of Us #1)

MAGGIE

“Dude,”

Emma groans. Panting, she bends over and puts her hands on her knees.

“Whoever came up with HIIT workouts can kiss my entire ass.”

If I had the breath to laugh, I would. As it is, all I can manage is a nod and a half-gasped, “Yeah,”

as I press my hands to my pounding heart.

From where she has melted into a pink-haired puddle on the couch, Joy fans at her reddened face. When I catch her eye, she tries to smile at me, but I know she’s not any happier with the YouTube exercise we attempted than Emma and I are.

God bless my friends. I can’t think of anyone else who would’ve agreed to do this with me, especially on a Sunday morning. And I hadn’t even told them why I wanted to do it; when I invited them to join me, they just said, ‘Sure,’ and a couple things about endorphins.

Still, after this workout, I wouldn’t be surprised if they changed their minds. I know they love me, but this particular kind of exercise was more than they bargained for, I think. It was more than I bargained for. My legs feel like they’re about to give out on me.

I drop into my favorite cushy chair and let myself become a puddle too.

After a few better breaths, I’m able to form real sentences.

“I’m sorry, guys. The video said it was a workout for beginners. I didn’t think it would be so hard.”

Emma straightens back up and trudges towards the kitchen, tightening the scrunchie in her ponytail.

“I didn’t either, sister.”

“I’m sure it gets easier with practice,” Joy says.

Emma gives half of a dry laugh, and I blow a raspberry. The mere idea of doing that ten-minute routine again kind of makes me want to cry.

But underneath that, I know I don’t want to give up after just one go. The instructor gave different difficulty options throughout the video, and some things seemed more doable than others, so we mixed up how hard we tried—too ambitious on our part, we know now. The next time I do the workout, I’ll make sure to stick with the simplest options, even if they seem too simple. I’ll give myself a fair chance of getting used to the moves instead of plowing ahead without any experience and then regretting it.

Smooching noises have me looking over at Joy, who does manage a smile now.

“Love you,”

she tells me.

“I won’t bail on being your workout buddy, okay?”

I smile back. “Yet?”

Emma fully laughs this time even though she’s drinking some water, and the two of us join in.

“Aw, no!”

Joy says to me.

“I mean, it is hard and I hate it a lot more than I thought I would, but….”

“I love you, too, Joyful,”

I assure her.

“Thank you for being sweet, but please know that if you decide you don’t wanna bother with this, I get it and won’t be mad.”

When she gives me a sad puppy look, I smooch back to her, then call across the room.

“Same goes for you, Em.”

“I will do my best to give it an honest try,”

she vows.

“I do kind of like how I feel right now, having worked my ass off.”

“Me too!”

Joy chimes in.

“I really think it’s great, Maggie, that you wanted to try something new. Thanks for asking us to try it with you.”

She wiggles around to get a little more comfortable.

“What made you wanna try it?”

My stomach flips with nervousness.

This is one of the few things I don’t want to share with the girls. I love them, but I…would just like to keep it to myself. Besides, plenty of people do what my friends spoke of and exercise for the way it makes them feel, right? That’s reason enough to do it.

So I answer Joy’s question with a veiled truth.

“I just thought it sounded like a fun change. Tough, of course, but fun. Something new to add to my life, like you said.”

Emma makes a contemplative noise.

“Could’ve become a dog mom instead.”

We all laugh again.

“Nah,”

she amends.

“I get it. It’s easy to get stuck in the routine of how things have always been and things we always do—or things we never do. Changing it up is cool.”

Joy hums in agreement.

“For sure.”

She points a tired finger at me.

“I really am gonna try to hang in there with you. I admire you striving for change.”

“Same,”

Emma says.

I smile at them.

“Y’all are the best.”

“No, y’all are,”

Emma returns.

“Noooo,”

Joy protests.

“y’all are.”

We all giggle together. Then Joy pushes herself up from the couch with a goofily dramatic wail.

“Someone carry me to breakfast,”

she pleads.

I tell her.

“I can’t carry anybody, but I’ll buy for everybody.”

Emma turns on her best raspy Gandalf voice.

“Don’t tempt me, Maggie!”

Joy and I laugh again, and I point out.

“Another movie we need to watch again soon.”

“Yes,”

Emma groans.

“Legolas, you beautiful elf-man….”

Joy claps her hands together.

“If we get a quick breakfast instead of dining in somewhere, we should be able to watch it before Maggie goes to work at two.”

Just like that, our muscles aren’t too tired to hurry us to our rooms so we can change out of these sweaty clothes.

I’ll undoubtedly start getting sore sometime later—and probably end up annoyed over Luke in one way or another—but for now, my day looks good.

I admire myself a little bit too.

—

“Fifty years?”

I repeat into the phone.

“Oh my gosh, Mrs. Matthews! Congratulations! Don’t they call that the golden anniversary?”

“They sure do!”

the lady on the other end says. I can hear how big her smile is.

“Thank you so much, dear! We’ve been so blessed. Truly, we’re soulmates. And the cherry on top is that you’ve put us down for a reservation! My husband and I will have to start thinking about dessert the moment I’m off this call. It’s always such a hard choice between the crème br?lée and the bananas Foster cheesecake!”

I can’t help but grin along with her…for her news and for the idea that hits me.

After she has repeated her reservation time and date back to me to make sure she’s got it right, I agree.

“And you’re right, it is a hard choice between those two desserts,”

as if I’m not already planning to treat Mr. and Mrs. Matthews to both of them on their beautiful night.

She lets out a squeak of excitement.

“Oh, I just can’t wait to get there! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

It touches my heart. This plus the way she started gushing about her anniversary when I answered the phone…man, it’s like she’s celebrating her first year of marriage or something.

My face hurts now from how big I’m grinning.

“You are so welcome. I thank you for wanting to spend time at Lucent on an occasion like this. I’ve always found it to be a romantic place. And since you’re clearly a professional, I’d love to know if you have any quick advice on how to keep a relationship strong.”

Her laugh is sweet.

“A professional! You are a treat, my girl! But let’s see….”

With my own giggle, I close out her finished reservation on the iPad and wait for her to decide how to answer. I’ve always liked her and found it endearing that she prefers to reserve her tables over the phone instead of through our website. I can see the appeal—there’s a more traditional feel to speaking to the hostess yourself.

Shortly, she sighs, but I can still hear her smiling. “Be kind.”

The words sink into me.

So simple, yet so powerful.

Softly, I ask, “Yeah?”

“Yep. Now, you won’t remember to do it in every single situation, and both of you will deserve to have space and to honor how you feel. But always come back to kindness. Life gets hard and ugly sometimes. Build a safe place with each other.”

‘A safe place.’

Even though I know more goes into a relationship than just kindness, that phrase is still with me even a half-hour after our call ends.

Maybe because I don’t feel like I’ve ever had a safe place with a boyfriend.

Except for….

But that doesn’t count. The time he and I spent together in high school may have felt like something real, but it was folly. We were built on sand, not concrete.

It’s not that my other boyfriends were hateful, though. When I say they weren’t safe places for me, I don’t mean they treated me badly. It’s just that when I think of someone who would be that for me, I think of unmatched comfort, the freedom to be who I am, and forgiveness for when I fall short. I think of easy silences and laughter that hurts the muscles. I think of encouragement and a sense of knowing that no matter how hard or ugly things get, indeed, my person will be there to steady me.

I saw glimpses of those things with the guys I’ve dated. Nothing more. Nothing true.

The memory of how true Luke felt at first makes my heart ache before I can stop it.

Inhaling through my nose, I close my eyes and will the sadness to go away.

It doesn’t really go, though. It just softens as I helplessly remember what it was like to be happy with him.

Back then, hanging out at the lake was a popular pastime for people our age because there were a lot of scenic spots that we high schoolers could get to without having to pay to enter campgrounds. A place Luke and I liked in particular had lots of big rocks we could sit on; we could relax on ones that were out in the open air or on ones tucked back closer to the tree line. The shore of the lake was near enough for us to hear the waves lapping at the land on windy days if we stayed quiet. We very creatively called the place the Water Rocks.

A tingle starts up in my lips.

I press them together and steer my thoughts away from that one cloudy afternoon when….

A less dangerous memory is that of how we used to listen to music together out there. We had some tastes in common and had others we were desperate to share; we both loved Snow Patrol and Fall Out Boy, I recall. He also used to share his favorite candy with me—gummy worms—while we talked. Gosh, we talked about so many things, from the heavy blow of his dad leaving to the lighthearted topic of shows and movies we enjoyed watching.

I still remember the day we learned that both of us were trying to decide how we felt about Arrested Development. Oh my God, talking about George-Michael’s boring girlfriend getting called the wrong name had us laughing so loudly we scared a bunch of birds out of—

“Hi, Maggie.”

Jerked back into the real world, I blink, blink, blink my eyes open. To keep from laughing out loud over how Luke and I cracked the hell up about ‘Egg,’ I take in the person who has spoken to me from across the hostess stand.

And I’m jolted by bewildered surprise.

Not because the guy standing there is the one I was just seeing so clearly in my head. I’ve actually wondered if Luke isn’t feeling well today, because he’s looked really dull and he hasn’t messed with me at all….

No, I’m being grinned at by the guy from Mellow Burger. The one I ran into at Merritt’s. The one who seems to like me and whom I was hoping not to see again for a while.

Oh, gosh.

I can’t recall his name in this moment, but I know his face. How could I forget those wide, intense brown eyes and that look of open interest?

Face going hot and throat going dry, I say in an awkward rasp, “Oh, hi.”

If he’s surprised to find me here, too, I can’t tell. He’s all smiles.

“It’s so good to see you!”

he says.

“You look pretty, as usual. How are you?”

Chuckling, he leans against the stand, slanting himself towards me that little bit.

“Well, no matter how you are, I bet you’d be better if I had some spicy fries with me, right?”

Huh? Why would he mention…? Wait, did he notice I was eating spicy fries at Mellow Burger?

Maybe that wouldn’t have been a strange observation.

Still, it hits me in a strange way.

So much about him does. I guess it’s because of how forward he seems? Yeah, I don’t believe anyone has ever been forward about their interest in me quite like he has, and I just don’t like it very much. It makes me feel like I’m standing in a bright spotlight; it made me feel that way even at the bar when I kept catching him looking at me.

In fact, didn’t he mention yesterday that he saw me spill my drink at Merritt’s? He was watching me before he stepped into me on my way to the bathroom—which, now that I think about it, might not have been as accidental as I assumed.

A spotlight: that’s exactly it. I feel like he’s zeroed in on me.

Unease takes the place of my bewilderment and makes me wonder at last, What is he doing at my job?

“Do you not remember me?”

he cuts through my silence. His face and shoulders are falling.

“I’m Kyle Danfords. We officially met yesterday at—”

“I—no, I remember.”

I swallow at the weakness in my throat.

“You—you just caught me off-guard. I was in my head and didn’t expect you to….”

As I scramble to get a handle on my mounting discomfort, the lightbulb of logic goes off in my head.

I work in a restaurant.

People come to restaurants when they’re hungry.

He’s not here to bother me. He’s here to eat something.

Okay, duh, Maggie.

I sigh into an apologetic smile, feeling dumb.

“I’m sorry. How rude of me not to greet you properly. Are you part of the four o’clock reservation I’m waiting on?”

I reach for my iPad.

His hand lands firmly on my wrist. My sharp breath gets lost in him saying.

“Oh, you’re not rude at all. You’re awesome. But no, I’m here for a job application, not to eat.”

I really wish he wouldn’t keep touching me.

He’s still talking, but all I can focus on is my quickening pulse and flushing skin—

—and, thankfully, how his hand is gone again after all because he’s gesturing at the restaurant.

A job application, I belatedly repeat to myself, relieved in more than one way. Okay, that works too.

I withdraw into crossed arms and nod along as he mentions how nice Lucent is. I silently remind myself that he’s simply outgoing and touchy-feely. More so than I personally like, but a lot of people act the way he does. I can calm down. He’s not trying to be weird or cross any lines.

And his explanation makes as much sense as him wanting to dine here. He works in food service already, so another restaurant would be a reasonable place to move on to. I was briefly worried he had somehow shown up to see me, but what a silly fear that was. How would he even have known I work here? I’m certain I’ve never seen him eat here before and I haven’t noticed him loitering outside; judging by his personality, I think he would’ve approached me before now if he’d been around.

“So yeah,”

I tune in to him saying.

“don’t go telling my boss I’m looking for a new place to work, okay?”

He laughs, clearly not realizing I haven’t been paying much attention.

I feel a twinge of guilt.

Me being uninterested in him doesn’t mean there’s anything truly off about him. He’s just some harmless guy.

So I tell him.

“No, I won’t talk to your boss, but I do have to let you know we don’t give out paper applications. There’s a page on our website that lists available job positions and gives information on how to show interest.”

He hesitates, almost looking sheepish, before letting out another little laugh.

“Okay. I’ll check the site, then.”

He scratches a few fingers into his sandy hair and sends an appreciative glance over me.

“Still not a wasted trip, though, since you’re here.”

I groan inwardly.

“By the way,”

he goes on.

“I gotta tell you how beautiful your smile is. It’s so beautiful. I don’t know what you were thinking about when I got here, but you looked really happy about it. I’m glad I got to see that.”

Now I barely keep from choking on my own saliva.

Not only are thoughts of Luke trying to resurface, but Kyle’s shower of compliments has my awkwardness rushing back in full force.

He says.

“Anyway, today is Halloween. You got any plans?”

I silently thank God for the burst of chatter that comes floating through the front entrance along with a handful of people. I quickly deduce that if Kyle isn’t here to dine, it means they’re my one and only four o’clock reservation. As they head my way, I seize my chance to politely dismiss him.

“Um, thank you,”

I tell him, picking up my iPad.

“For the compliments, I mean. Enjoy your day, all right?”

He looks disappointed, but he summons a smile as he steps out of the customers’ way.

As I get ready to greet them, my ears catch what sounds like.

“I’ll see you soon, Maggie.”

I have to hope not.

At least he didn’t press the Halloween plans question, though.

I’m glad when he leaves, but after I’ve seated the group of people and quietude has descended on my hostess stand again, I do find myself wondering if he might start cropping up more often now that he knows I work here.

Surely he won’t, right?

Well, something in my stomach is not so sure.

The more I dwell on him gathering as much information about me as he has, the more chilled I seem to grow. I decided that he doesn’t seem legitimately weird, but…I don’t know.

The thought of him working here heightens that chilled feeling so much it gets a judder out of me.

I’m not left feeling uneasy for long, though, because it occurs to me that I can speak to Mr. Polk about this.

I reach for the employees-only phone so I can call the back office—and I jump when it rings before I can lift the receiver.

Don’t ask why my brain goes to worrying Kyle is calling me somehow. That doesn’t even make sense.

I roll my eyes at myself, then answer the phone.

“This is Maggie.”

“Is there any ibuprofen here?”

comes a fatigued yet familiar male voice.

“If so, do you have it or would it be in the breakroom?”

After a beat, he adds.

“This is Luke.”

I know it is. I know your voice.

The thought is soft, not exasperated. Just like the chill that’s whispering through me now isn’t born of nervousness like the one from moments ago.

There’s no time to slip back into memories, though.

“We do have some somewhere,”

I say to him.

“I’ll see if it’s with me.”

I don’t recall glimpsing any medicine bottles over here, but I’ll make sure.

Before I do, I glance to the bar and find him with his head dropped into his free hand.

Yeah, I noticed when I got here a couple hours ago that he didn’t look like he felt his best, and that hasn’t changed. He still seems worn and has been much quieter than usual. This is the first time we’ve even spoken today, now that I think about it.

I turn my attention to the shelves of my stand and peer around. Shortly, I look his way again and tell him.

“No, it must be in the breakroom.”

I hear him sigh through the phone, and I swear I can see it, too, even from here.

And I…

…it makes my heartbeat act up to admit it to myself, but I feel for him, kind of.

Maybe because of the good times I was recalling. Maybe because he hasn’t been a thorn in my side today. Maybe because I believe I’d rather deal with him even at his worst than deal with flirtatious Kyle. Maybe because Mrs. Matthews’s talk of kindness is drifting back up into my mind.

Whatever the reason, I speak on it before I can decide not to.

“I’ll get the medicine and bring it to you. I need to go that direction to speak to Mr. Polk anyway.”

The words sound off to my ears, my voice even more so; I try to subtly clear the weirdness out of my throat.

Though Luke was already quiet, the way his silence rings over the line now tells me he wasn’t expecting what I said any more than I was expecting to say it.

Indeed, across the way, he slowly lifts his head from his hand and looks over here to me.

Damn the unstoppable flutter-flip in my stomach.

Damn my sudden concern that he’s about to be an ass to me for the first time today and make me regret trying to be nice.

But damn if I don’t still stumble out to him.

“Do you—you want one ibuprofen or two?”

He remains silent for another second.

And a couple more seconds.

After quite a few, he says.

“You don’t have to do that.”

His tone isn’t unpleasant, though. It’s still just tired.

Which is why I reply.

“It’s no trouble. The breakroom is by the back office.”

I point in that direction and repeat stupidly.

“I have to speak to Mr. Polk anyway.”

“What if someone needs to be seated while you’re gone? Who’s gonna greet them?”

Oh.

I didn’t think about that before my offer fell out of my mouth.

But he doesn’t need to know my brain skipped right over that detail, because it doesn’t matter, because I’m remembering I’m not expecting anyone yet.

“Our next reservation isn’t until 4:30,”

I tell him.

“You have patrons at your bar right this minute, so you’re busier than I am. How much ibuprofen do you want?”

I hear him sigh again.

Watch him rub at his temple as he looks at the people in question.

Abruptly wonder why I’m trying so hard to help him when he doesn’t seem to want me to.

I recall the thing with Ronald; this wouldn’t be the first time Luke was too stubborn to accept my help.

Yeah, what am I doing? He probably thinks I’m being nosy again, so maybe I should—

“Two would be great.”

His quiet words put that flutter back in me, and I don’t know why.

Well, I’ll call it a flutter of surprise this time since I was starting to think he really did want me to leave him alone.

He still isn’t looking at me, but I nod before I look away too.

“All right. Give me a couple minutes.”

We get off the phone, and despite my legs having begun to feel this morning’s workout, I swiftly make my way to Mr. Polk’s office.

“Maggie,”

he greets me with his usual warm smile. He takes off his reading glasses and slips them into the salt-and-pepper hair on his head.

“What can I do for you?”

I realize only now that I haven’t planned what to say.

What should I say?

Will I sound crazy and dramatic if I tell him how I feel about Kyle? Is it mean to try to ruin someone’s chance at a job just because I don’t like their vibe?

Maybe, and maybe.

The thought of backing out unsettles me, though.

I end up asking.

“We aren’t hiring right now, are we?”

The mere shake of Mr. Polk’s head is enough to send relief surging through me.

“Not at this time,”

he says.

“Why do you ask? I can make a note if you have someone you’d like to recommend.”

He sits up straighter and turns to his computer.

“Or does the website say we’re looking for staff? I thought I updated it after we hired Chastity, but—”

“Oh, no,”

I assure him quickly.

“No, sir, on either count. I just had someone come up to my stand and want an application. I told him how we handle things like that and he said he’d check the website, but I was worried he…. I mean, I wanted to know for myself that…uh….”

Once again unsure of what to say, I just wave a hand.

Mr. Polk nods and smiles again.

“Ah, I see! How thoughtful of you to wanna be armed with information so no one wastes their time poking around online.”

That makes me feel a little guilty.

I fold my hands behind my back and dip my head respectfully.

“That’s…nice of you to say, sir.”

He dips his head in kind, then points towards the restaurant.

“Sure thing, Maggie. Everything else going well out there?”

“As far as I know.”

“Perfect!”

He doesn’t shoo me away since he’s not the type, but I decide I’m ready to excuse myself anyway. I don’t feel the need to tell him specifics about Kyle; I’m satisfied just to know there isn’t room for anyone new on our staff. I thank him for his time and then leave him to his work, feeling lighter than I did before.

As for my guilt, I bat it away by acknowledging that while he may have been off about my motive, what he said brings about a good point. If anyone else comes around wanting a job, I’ll be able to save them some time by telling them we aren’t hiring.

In the breakroom, I check two cabinets before I find the ibuprofen. I collect a couple from the bottle and start to leave again, then realize I forgot to ask if Luke has some water to drink behind the bar. Just in case he doesn’t, I double back and grab a mini bottle from the refrigerator.

And even though I do feel better about the Kyle thing, an odd shakiness stirs in me as I make my way out into the restaurant.

It feels weird to be doing something nice for Luke. Doubly weird that he didn’t fight me on it like a kid fighting a much-needed nap.

We haven’t been nice to each other in a long time.

Still, he can’t hide his relief when I show up at the end of the bar, and I know the same would be true for me if I were in his shoes. So at least for now, I’m glad I could help.

What I’m not, it seems, is able to meet his eyes. The moment he looks up to mine from my extended hand, I look down and focus on getting the pills safely from my fingers to his palm. I don’t want to set them on the bar top with the water bottle or drop them on the floor…or touch him unnecessarily after the thoughts I’ve had about him today.

He mumbles.

“I appreciate it.”

I nod, not knowing if he’s grudgingly thanking me or if he’s just thinking about feeling better soon.

But keeping my eyes off his face means they end up on his body because it’s right in front of me. Eyeing his body makes me freshly aware of how he’s not as skinny as he was in high school, and it’s in a way that looks good—there’s no ignoring that he looks stupidly good even in the all-black pants, button-down shirt, suspenders, and tie he has to wear for work. And thinking about that has me remembering how stupidly I feel about my own body these days.

Then, before I can stop it, I’m recalling how gently he kissed me on that cloudy day at the Water Rocks, with the world on pause around us except for the breeze sifting through our hair.

He asked me to be his girlfriend right after that. My breathless yes had come so easily.

I felt perfect.

Right now, so quick is the rush of chill bumps over me that it’s a wonder I don’t shiver where he can see.

Okay, snap out of this.

“You’re welcome,”

I finally mumble back to him. Then, rubbing my shaky hands on my hips and willing away the new flutter in my stomach, I turn and go back to the hostess stand.

But hey, while I’m not used to whatever I’m currently feeling because of him, I can definitely get used to my happy gratitude over not having to worry about Kyle working here too.

Hopefully he won’t come by very often just to see me….

And hopefully the ibuprofen won’t help Luke so much that he promptly goes back to being his typical self.

It’s nice to not be bothered.