Page 72 of The Fall

“I hope I can be enough for you.”

It knocks the air out of me. “Enough for me?”

“You seem… confident, and I… I haven’t done this a whole lot, especially with someone I care about.” His eyes drop to where his hands rest on my knees. “I’m worried I’ll disappoint you.”

I stare at him, trying to process his words. The absurdity makes me want to laugh, but the vulnerability in his expression stops me.

“Blair,” I say, taking his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. “You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried.”

His eyes search mine, doubt still lingering in their depths. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.” I want to say, You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted. Everything I think I know about love starts and ends with you.

Everything I know—all the slow sugar perfection, how my body learned to sigh and arch, the taste that my lips and my tongue crave, the waves I climbed and crashed—I stole from my dreams of him.

I only know what I know and want what I want because it’s always been him.

I loved him breathlessly for a year I didn’t live; he is the only lover I have imagined since, touching myself alone in the dark, imagining his hands in place of my own, his lips on my thighs and my abs and my neck.

He is the beginning and end of my desires; he defines every one. All my certainty is him.

Everything I know about wanting a man, and about how to touch and taste and love one, I learned from him.

His voice is so raw. “I don’t know if I’m good at this. Relationships aren’t— I’ve never really tried, not the way I want to with you.”

I lean in and let him taste my certainty. He pulls me in, holding me close.

The kiss is different this time. His fingers thread through mine where they rest on his thigh, and I squeeze back, trying to tell him without words that we’ll figure this out together.

When we finally break apart, the sky has gone dark purple above us. Blair’s eyes are soft, but there’s a question inside of them. “I wanted to cook for you, but I’m so fucking wrecked right now, I’d cut my thumb off if I tried.”

“So let’s order a pizza.”

“I wanted this to be special for you. I wanted tonight to be amazing.”

“It already is.” I kiss the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then the spot where his neck meets his ear. “You’re here. That’s all I need. Besides, pizza on your couch sounds perfect.”

Everything about this night is perfect exactly the way it is. He may have wanted to woo me, but all he had to do was open the door.

His chin tips up. “Yeah?”

I brush the hair off his forehead. “Yeah.”

My golf ball curves right, misses the tiny castle door by a good foot, and slams into the moat wall with a hollow thunk .

“Jesus, Kicks.” Hayes snorts.

“Uncle Torey doesn’t know how to play,” Lily announces. She stands beside Hayes, her miniature putter gripped in both hands like a sword.

I’m standing at the twelfth hole of Gator Golf Emporium, a castle-shaped obstacle between me and the cup, and I squint against the afternoon sun. “Uncle Torey definitely does not.”

Blair tries and fails to smother his smile. He’s standing off to the side with his pink putter balanced across his shoulders. He’s in too-tight shorts and a linen button-down, and he looks sinful.

“Maybe Calle can help you out, Kicks.” Hayes scoops Lily up and settles her on his hip.

We’re a week into dating, and Hayes pretending not to know is the least convincing thing I’ve ever seen. When he pulled up to the mini-golf course an hour ago, the first thing out of his mouth was, “Mmm, couples golf. Lily-pad, you’ll be my sweetie, yeah?”

Blair’s already coming toward me, unhooking his putter from his shoulders. “Your stance is wrong,” he says. “And you’re gripping too tight.”

He slides behind me, so close the heat of him radiates through my polo. His breath tickles my ear. “Arms straight.”

His hands rest on my forearms, guiding them into position. I haven’t touched him since we got here, but now he’s flush against me from back-to-knees, his body curved around mine like a comma. He guides through a smooth practice swing. “Like this,” he says, voice dropping lower.

“Keep your eyes on where you want the ball to go.” His knee nudges mine wider. His breath grazes my ear. “Not on the obstacles.”

I swallow. “Got it.”

“You’re twisting your wrist too much. Let your grip pull through, not across.”

“You’re saying words,” I breathe. “None of which are gonna help me here.”

“Don’t think.” His lips brush my ear. “ Feel it.”

I close my eyes and nearly drop my putter.

“You paying attention?”

“To the wrong things,” I choke out.

“You two need a private lesson?” Hayes calls.

Blair steps back. “Try it now.”

I line up my shot again, trying to remember the way his hands positioned mine. That’s hopeless; the only thing I remember is the burn of his lips. But, I swing, and the ball rolls clean through the castle gate, navigates the inner maze, and stops inches from the hole.

“Holy shit,” I whisper.

“He’s teachable after all.” Hayes’s voice is Sahara-dry.

I tap my putt in for the finish, and Blair marks my score on the tiny pencil card. “That’s your best hole yet,” he says.

We move on to a pirate ship with a moving gangplank, and Hayes slings an arm around my shoulders while Lily lines up for her first shot.

“Ice cream after?” he asks. “Loser buys.”

“I guess I’m buying. I’m pretty fucking awful at this.”

“You are spectacularly horrendous,” he agrees. “But a sundae with spoons for two should cheer you up. I’m sure Blair will be happy to share.” He slaps my back and ambles off to cheer on his daughter while Blair and I linger beneath the shade of a palm tree.

“Thanks for the lesson,” I say, letting my shoulder bump his.

“My pleasure.”

His pinky hooks around mine. It’s a small, ridiculously high-school point of contact, but my heart rockets as if we’re doing something far more intimate.

Later, we’re in Hayes’s backyard, digesting ice cream and sunshine.

Lily is laughing somewhere in the house.

We’ve already had our Nerf war, and she’s shown me her new tumbling routine from gymnastics, hurling herself back and forth across the living room floor.

Now, Blair and I are hanging out with Hayes, the both of us nursing Gatorades while Hayes works the grill.

“So,” Hayes says, flipping a burger. “This is fun, huh? Us guys .” He drops exaggerated emphasis on his last word.

“Burgers done soon?” Blair asks.

Hayes snorts. “That’s what you want to talk about?”

“What else would we be talking about?”

“I don’t know, buddy. Best friend. Best teammate. Maybe you have news for me?”

Grease pops on the grill. Hayes’s eyebrows climb and climb, and he looks between us.

Blair takes another sip of Gatorade, casual as anything. “You tell me. You’re the one making announcements.”

Hayes’s face splits into a wide grin. “Fucking finally.”

“What do you mean, ‘finally’?”

“Are you kidding me?” Hayes shakes his head.

Blair scoffs. Hayes laughs outright, then holds out his fist to me for a bump. “Remember that video review we had where you two sat so close together that I was afraid you were going to melt into one person?”

Blair blinks. “When?—”

“That was—” My cheeks are burning. We haven’t sat together during video review all season… except for this past week. “That was two days ago.”

Hayes flips a burger with unnecessary flourish. “And remember when you guys couldn’t keep your eyes off each other in practice? And you were all over each other on your drills?”

Blair chokes on his Gatorade.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Painfully.” Hayes grins. “You two flirt so fucking weirdly. And you took your sweet fucking time figuring this out.”

“So who else knows?” Blair asks.

Hayes shrugs, scooping the burgers onto a plate.

“Nah, only me. I’m the only one who’s been paying attention to you two.

And no one is going to know about this from me, so as long as you guys cool your jets in public, you’re good.

You two figure out what you want, then you can decide who knows what.

” He points. “But for what it’s worth, the guys are gonna be cool about it.

Nobody is going to care, you know that, right?

I mean, they will care because they’re nosy bastards who love gossip, but nobody’s gonna give you shit about it. ”

“Thanks,” Blair says.

Hayes waves his spatula. “Don’t make it a thing. Just be happy, for fuck’s sake.”

“So,” I say, clearing my throat. “Are those burgers done or what? I’m starving.”

“Always thinking with your stomach.” Hayes flips the last of the patties onto the plate and turns off the grill. “But yes, they’re done. Perfect, actually. You’re welcome.”

Blair snorts. “I’ll grab Lily and Erin.”

He heads toward the house, and Hayes catches my eye. He shoots me a shit-eating smile that makes me want to throw my Gatorade at him. “My man ,” he crows.

“Is this where you give me the best-friend talk?”

He laughs. “I don’t think you need it. I have a good feeling about this. The best, actually.”

“I hope so.”

“Don’t fuck it up.” His voice is gentle. “Blair’s one of the good ones. And so are you, for what it’s worth.” He hands me the plate of burgers, and our eyes meet. For once, there’s no teasing in his expression.

“Thanks,” I say. “For being cool about this.”

“What are best friends for?”

The hotel carpet drinks every footstep, muting my nerves as I count door numbers in the sallow light. 514... 512... 510. There it is; Blair’s room.

I shouldn’t be here. I know it. I’m too old to be sneaking past curfews and coaches. Back then, if you got caught, it meant a bag skate at dawn. Now, one teammate with good hearing could open doors we’re not ready for yet.

Second thoughts crowd my mind. We agreed to be careful on the road and not do this, but here I am. Two hours of staring at my hotel room’s ceiling has driven me crazy.

I miss him.

The responsible thing would be to turn around, go back to my room, and text him goodnight.

But…