My brothers were four and seven years older than I was, which made me the baby, hence Dad’s reluctance to let me go. Heath was the oldest, (his full name was actually Heathcliff) my other brother was Holden and I was Scout. As you probably gathered, our mother had been an avid reader and named us after her favorite literary characters. I’d never known her because she’d died when I was three but I’d always felt her absence in our lives due to all the pictures of her in our house and especially when Dad or one of my brothers brought her up, sharing stories of times I’d never known or didn’t remember. When I was seven, I’d asked my dad why he’d never remarried. He’d gotten a faraway look in his eyes and told me that once you found your reason to breathe, no one else could “pass muster.” I hadn’t understood at the time, but it sounded romantic, so I’d let it go.
So, back to our names. Although I thought they were cool, Heath despised his, even though his broody spells said the name fit him perfectly. But he’d taken a lot of crap from the other kids for it when he was little, so when I was old enough to know what it meant, I told him his name sounded prestigious and it would look great on business cards someday. He’d laughed at that saying he hoped that all the hell he’d gotten for it would eventually pay off. He was now a software developer in Boise, a job for which he was getting paid bank, so I’d say he’d more than vindicated himself for being picked on. Matter of fact, he was making so much money, he even co-signed for a loan with Dad for our farm. Dad, of course, had balked, but Heath had insisted, telling Dad the money would likely just go to more beer, so Dad had half-jokingly given in for the sake of Heath’s sobriety. My other brother Holden, who lived up to his namesake in the fact that he was a deep thinker (and also quite the party boy), was twenty-four, a huge ladies man and was the one in law school who’d convinced Dad to let me come to Seattle. And I’m Scout. I think I’ve done a decent job living up to my name because I’ve always been a tomboy and Dad says I’ve also always been fairly precocious.
So there I sat in psychology class on the first day, when to my utter shock (and annoyance), Tire Change Dude walked in. And, damn it, he was even better looking out of the rain.
He had on a gray short-sleeved Godsmack t-shirt over a long-sleeved black tee, hiding the full sleeves of tattoos that I knew he had, but I could still see part of a tattoo peeking out at the left side of his neck. I saw that his hair was actually a dark caramel-color, not quite as dark as the rain had made it appear, and he wore it in a fade cut with long bangs spiked up in the front. His faded jeans sat low on his hips and he wore brown, lace-up boots. He also had on black reading glasses, and jumping Jesus on a pogo stick, he looked good.
I immediately turned my head away, scratching myself on the neck nonchalantly, hoping he wouldn’t recognize me. I then heard a guy several rows behind and a few seats to the left of me holler “Yo!” and I turned slightly to see Tattoo Dude raise his head in a nod at him then he came up the stairs and passed right by me and, damn it, I couldn’t not look. His eyes caught mine but they looked right through me, no recognition in them at all, which I oddly found was kind of disappointing.
As I sat waiting for class to begin, I listened to the two guys talking and, boy, did I learn a lot. First of all, tire dude’s name was Gable. I hadn’t remembered what his girlfriend had called him that day in the rain, but now it clicked. Secondly, I found out they’d had a party the weekend before and Gable had gotten so wasted that he’d woken up in bed with three girls, so I guessed the classy babe with him when I had a flat wasn’t his girlfriend after all. Thirdly, I now knew he was thinking of getting another tattoo, probably “Luctor et emergo” on his right pec, which I knew was Latin but had no clue what it meant. The guy with him was just as clueless, asking about it, but Gable had remained close-mouthed. Fourthly, their poker game had been changed from Wednesday night to Thursday. And fifthly, who the fuck was the hot blonde piece of tail sitting in front of him with legs that went on for miles that he wouldn’t mind having wrapped around his head?
He had to be kidding. Who said stuff like that in public? And did he really think that’d land him a girl? Wow. I inspected the classroom for the poor blond girl he was talking so rudely about, but most of the girls I saw had dark hair. Then I felt something hit the side of my head, and frowning, turned to see him and his friend ogling me as the wadded paper one of them had thrown landed in my lap.
The friend jerked his chin up at me. “What’s up? Hey, did you fall from the sky because let’s have sex.”
I stared at him for a moment before scrunching up my face and saying, “Seriously?” Really, who talked that way?
Gable’s eyes narrowed then. “I know you.” I squinted my eyes right back at him then he snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “Tire girl. Miss Priss.” And he gave me that lopsided grin.
I rolled my eyes and turned away because I was embarrassed by the whole encounter. I was also flustered at the fact that my heart was beating ninety-to-nothing and my nipples had gotten hard at just seeing him grin at me. God.
The professor had now come in and started taking roll, so I kept my attention on her, ignoring the fact that I could feel Gable’s eyes burning a hole into the side of my head. I wanted to turn to him and frown, maybe even give him the finger, but I knew that’d just get me another nipple-hardening grin so I stayed facing forward. But as I sat there, using every ounce of restraint I could to keep from looking at him, I realized I was actually flattered by what he’d said about me, and it horrified me that I’d feel that way about being objectified and I wanted to smack myself in the head as I tried figuring out where my self-respect had gone.
During roll call, I learned that his last name was Powers. Oh, boy, he was one of them. The them I’d been hearing about since stepping onto campus. And he was flirting with me. Well, wasn’t I the lucky one. Unable to help being curious about this latest bit of info and wanting to know if he really was as good looking as everyone had been saying (I mean, I’d seen him but hadn’t known who he was so I hadn’t really seen him seen him), I risked a glance over my left shoulder at him only to find him gazing right back at me with a lazy grin. Holy crap! I turned around quickly and promptly swallowed my gum on the breath I’d sucked in at getting caught. As I choked out a cough, I decided he was as hot as everyone had been saying, and I also decided I was an idiot to mess with him. Although very handsome, he was uncouth, rude and too wild for the likes of me and I needed to stay far, far away from him, which I told myself I’d do.
So why the hell did that make him even more intriguing?
The Harder I Fall
Copyright © 2014 by Jessica Gibson
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review
Cover designed by Lacey Weatherford
Edits done by Sarah Daltry
Formatting by Inkstain Interior Book Designing
ISBN-13: 978-1496018335
ISBN-10: 1496018338
"Frannie, wait up!" I yelled and ran after the small girl in front of me. She never listened, always wanting to make her own way, to see everything.
“Hurry, Becca; we’re almost there.” Her smile was infectious.
Just ahead, I could hear the water boiling; the sound of the waterfall was deafening. “Hey, be careful,” I told her. “It’s steep on this side of the river.”
She didn’t listen, just kept running. “This is amazing; the water is making rainbows.” She turned back to wave me forward. I saw her slip and heard her shriek of terror as she tumbled off the side of the rocks into the rushing water.
“Frannie!” I sprinted to where she had fallen. There was nothing left of her, no trace. The water had taken her away.
I jolted awake, my nightgown clinging to my sweaty skin. The dreams were all different, but also the same. Frannie was gone before I could save her. Just like in real life. I couldn’t sav
e her, and I was doomed never to get over it.
College would be different. I would be different. No one knew the person I was at home; I could be anyone I wanted.
I crept into my brother, Chad’s room. It was early, but I figured it would be easier to leave now than to deal with my mom. “Chad, wake up,” I whispered.
“Becca?” He rubbed at his eyes and sat up.
“I’m leaving now. It’s easier this way.”
He nodded. “When will you be back again?”
Not for the first time, I considered staying. The guilt of leaving him was going to kill me. “I’ll come home for Christmas. Then you and I can go somewhere fun, just the two of us.” I clutched him to my chest tightly.
“I’m going to miss you.” He smiled sadly at me.
“Back at you, kid. I don’t know how I’m going to get along without you.” I wiped at the tears streaming down my cheeks.
“You’ll be too busy to miss me.” He tried to sound nonchalant. It didn’t work; I could hear the tremor in his voice.
“I’ll never be too busy for you. Call me anytime, and I’ll be there. Just remember, it’s only a few more years, and then you can come with me.”
He helped me load my bags into the beater car I’d bought a few weeks earlier.
“See you when I see you.” He hugged me.
“Love you more than anything, Chad.” I kissed his cheeks and got into the car before I lost my nerve. I watched him in the rearview mirror until he disappeared behind the trees. This was the beginning of my new life. Anything was possible.
They say time heals all wounds. I’m not sure I believe that. I think some wounds go too deep, and they fester. No matter what you do, they mark you, scar you. Some things just won’t go away, no matter how far you run.
Here it was, the first day of the rest of my life. I had never traveled outside of my small town, now here I was in Rhode Island going to Brown University. I was scared out of my mind that this was going to be a train wreck. I’ve never been what you would call good with people. I stood on the outside of my dorm room, staring at the drab red color. Was I supposed to knock? Should I just go in? I wasn’t sure of the protocol. Finally, I put on my brave face and turned the knob; thank goodness it opened.
A pretty girl with jet black hair and green eyes stared back at me as I crossed into the room. “Hiya, you must be my roomie. I’m Sadie; nice to meet ya.” She hugged me, which took me by surprise. I don’t generally like to be touched, but hey this was the new me, right?
“Yeah, I guess that’s me. I’m Becca.” I took a step back and dropped my bags on the carpeted floor. My hands came up to twirl my long auburn hair around my finger; it was one of those nervous habits you never know you're doing.
“Which bed do you want?” She gestured to the beds in the adjoining room.
“I’m not picky; you take what you want and I’ll be fine.” I picked up my bags again and wandered into the bedroom. It was decently sized for a dorm room, with a desk and bed for both of us and a closet and two dressers. Everything was done in various shades of beige, very bland.
“So, Becca, where are you from? I’m from California. This is so crazy for me. I’ve never been on the East Coast.” She talked a mile a minute.
“I’m from Washington,” I replied, and I prayed that she would leave it at that.
“Ooooh, so it rains a lot there, huh?” She stretched out on the bed closest to the window.
“Yeah, we got a lot of rain,” I murmured and set about unpacking my bags.
Sadie sat on her bed and watched me unpack; I swear I could hear her brain working. “So, what classes are you taking?” She was clearly trying to break the ice, and I knew I should let her.
“I’m taking general ed, I think, with a journalism class added in.” I took out my pointe shoes and leotards and set them on top of my dresser. I felt better; just holding them in my hands soothed my nerves.
“Cool, is that what you want to major in then?”
“Not sure yet. I think so. What about you?” I sat on the bed opposite her and fiddled with my auburn hair, trying not to be nervous. This is what normal people did; they talked with other people about their lives. I was normal now.
“I’m not sure what I want to major in. I mean it’s silly to expect someone our age to know what they want to do for the rest of their lives, isn't it? I’m going to take general ed, and a biology class. I’m leaning towards medicine, but I really don't know.” Her green eyes were animated as she spoke.
This was someone who wanted to know me, wanted to be my friend. It was sad that this was such a foreign concept to me. No one in my high school would give me the time of day. The only person who had told me I was special was my dance teacher. She had spent a lot of extra time with me, helping me hone my skills.
Everyone knew about me and my family. I was branded the second my dad did what he did, and that was the end of it. People thought I was crazy, so I was. People thought I was a druggie or a slut, so in their minds, that’s exactly what I was. I guess it was partly my fault, though; I never bothered to correct them.
“There’s a party on our floor tonight; want to go?” Sadie smiled at me expectantly.
“Um, sure, that sounds fun.” I tried to make my voice sound more confident.
Sadie spent the next hour telling me everything there was to know about her. I now knew all about the small town she was from in Northern California, and about her two brothers, and her parents. Also, how sad she was to leave her best friend, Cami, to come to school. She showed me picture after picture of everything and everyone important to her.
“Don’t worry, there won’t be a quiz after this.” She winked at me. In that moment, I knew we would be friends.
We wandered around campus together for a while, trying to see where all of our classes were. I was also trying to scope out a place to dance. I wasn’t at all sure they had a studio here, so I would have to make do with what I could find.
“Okay, what’s next?” Sadie looked at her list of classes and held up a map of the campus.
“Please tell me you aren’t going to use that when school actually starts.”
“Why wouldn’t I? I don’t want to get lost. Look, those guys have one out, too.” She pointed to a group of guys all huddled around a map just like the one Sadie had.
“I see your point.” I laughed. “Do they have a dance studio?” I peered over the map.
“Oh, so now it’s not such a terrible thing to have the map, is it?” She giggled and searched the tiny buildings. “There.” She jabbed her finger on the paper. “Come on, it’s this way.” She grabbed my hand and dragged me along with her.
The studio was beautiful, all gleaming hard wood and mirrors. I sighed as I walked around the room, imagining myself dancing.
“How long have you been a dancer?” Sadie asked, leaning against the doorjamb.
I tensed, not wanting to share that part of myself yet. “A while.”
She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t ask more. I wanted to stay, but I let Sadie lead me out a few minutes later.
We walked for a while longer before going back to our room. I was exhausted and I wanted a nap before we went to the party.
“Do you mind if I grab a quick nap? I’m dead on my feet from the past couple of days.”
“Sure, you go ahead. I’m going to decorate the common room.” She smiled and left me to myself. We shared the common room with another two girls, who would be our suitemates, but we hadn’t met them yet.
As if on cue there was a loud banging noise at the door and a tall blonde walked into the room laden with bags, followed by an older couple I assumed were her parents. Looked like my nap would have to wait.
“Hi,” she said, her cheeks flushing.
“I’m Sadie, and this is Becca.” Sadie bounced with excitement.
“I’m Layla.” She smiled shyly. “Which room am I in?”
Sadie pointed to the other door. “You’re in that one. We haven?
??t met your roomie yet.”
Layla and her parents unloaded all of her things into the room while Sadie and I went back into our room. “Do you think it’s bad that we didn’t offer to help?” Sadie bit her lip.
I laughed. “No, we just unpacked all of our things already. I think they get it.”
“What are you going to wear tonight? I want to make a good impression, you know?” She was already heading to the closet.
“This? I don’t know.” I looked down and my worn jeans and green t shirt.
“Becca, you are so not wearing that tonight. Here, try this.” She tossed a short black skirt and tight pink tank at me.
“Sadie, you can’t be serious. We don’t know each other that well, so I’ll let the pink tank top slide this time. I don’t do short, and I never do pink.”
“Okay, filing that info away. So what do you wear then if not pink or short?”
“Black and long.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I don’t really go out a lot, and I’m really just a jeans and t shirt kind of girl.” I shrugged, feeling uncomfortable.
“That isn't going to fly with me as your new best friend.” She rummaged in her drawers for a few minutes and came back with something more acceptable. A black tank that had bronze studs covering the back. “You can even wear your jeans.”
She tossed me the tank, and I turned around and slipped my shirt off to put it on. It was for sure tighter than any shirt I normally would wear, but it looked nice. “Thanks.”
“It looks better on you than me.” She studied me. I felt a rush of emotion; no one ever complimented me. My mom was not exactly the warm and fuzzy type. She was more the criticize and hate type.
“I’ll be back in a bit. I need some air.” I grabbed my sweater from the bed and rushed out of the room. Great, now she’s going to think I’m horrible. My thoughts were jumbled, and none of them were good.
Sadie was putting on the finishing touches to her makeup when I got back an hour later. “Hey, where’d you run off to?”