Where We Left Off (Phoenix Falls Series Book 1)
Where We Left Off: Chapter 8

By the following Monday Tate knows the order of the track list and every lyric to my Breaking Benjamin Phobia album.

On the second evening that I went to give him the player again he looked a lot happier than he had the previous night. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie and a gorgeous smile tugging at his lips.

When I went to hand it to him I noticed that he had put out some folded up blankets to sit on, which was unusual because I’m pretty sure that he had never done that before. He was blushing a bit when he saw me looking but then he stood up extra straight and said, “I was wondering if you wanted to listen to it with me tonight?”

How did his eyes get so sparkly? I said yes, of course, and we sat down, taking one ear bud each. I was holding the top step of the porch in a death grip because his pinkie finger was so close to mine and he flexed it a few times as if he could sense the attention.

At the end of the week I had become more comfortable, so I asked him if I could unfold the blankets and lie down whilst we were out here. Being a full-time swat was kind of tiring, and I could use the resting time.

Tate was eager in agreement. He was so on board with the idea that he even went back inside to get the pillows from his bed for us to lie on.

We were near the end of the album when I heard it. I was only wearing one ear-bud so I could still hear the noises from around us, and, being a nerd and all, the rustle of pages caught my attention. I opened my eyes and looked over at Tate, thinking that maybe he was asleep, so I took the headphone out using the hand that wasn’t next to his and I sat up.

Twisting my head I looked at the binder laid out behind us and I gently opened up the first page. It was stacked with old test essays, only it looked as though none of the questions had been answered yet. Maybe these were his revision papers that he was yet to go through. I softly moved over a few more leaves until I got to one that was dated this week, again empty, but this one had a circled letter F at the top, and a see me after class scribbled underneath it.

Was Tate failing his classes? The thought made my brow pinch. From what I could tell, Tate was smart. He was articulate and considerate, two skills that take a developed intelligent brain. I pondered it some more and then realised that maybe it was because of all of the sports that he has been doing, taking his time away from his studies – and that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, especially if that’s the kind of physical profession he would rather do after he finishes school – but it did explain why he would want to hide this stuff from his mom and her boyfriend.

I couldn’t help the ten-tonne drop in my stomach, though. My mom would never approve of him.

Suddenly I looked down and Tate’s eyes were on mine. He didn’t blink because he knew what I was seeing, and a soft pink flush spread across his cheeks.

Without a word I put the headphone back in my ear and lowered myself down so that I was facing him. Neither of us closed our eyes this time. It was like we were speaking to each other without saying any words.

Then I felt it. The warm brush of his long fingers against mine, the gentle rub of his knuckles on my skin.

He looked down at our hands and then back up at me through beautiful black lashes.

And then our fingers entwined.

*

I slink into the swivel chair next to Kit as our Computer Tech teacher momentarily leaves the room, and I hand her back her memory stick that I saved the updated Homecoming poster to.

“You emboldened the theme?” she asks. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Yes.” We’re having a 1950s theme because apparently it’s compulsory for all high schools to do that at least once.

“Thank you. What are you going to wear? I’m going to wear a suit – maybe a leather one,” she says.

There will be no competing with that.

I scrunch up my nose. “I might not actually go to Homecoming as an attendee.” My stomach feels weird just thinking about it. Watching people have fun in their big social circles as I cling to my one friend in her all-leather suit.

The teacher comes back into the room, oblivious to the alteration in the seating plan, so I stay planted in the chair in the hopes of not getting caught.

“Of course you’re attending Homecoming,” she whisper-scolds. “I expect an outfit update by next week.”

After class we head to our lockers to pick up our gym clothes. I twist the key, pulling open the little door, and as I go to grab my sports bag I see a piece of folded paper that I don’t remember putting there. I blink at it for a few moments like it’s an extraterrestrial. I assume that, whatever it is, it was slipped under the bottom of the door frame so I grab a pen from my bag and slip it between the fold, lifting it with neurosurgeon-level caution.

It’s a type-written note, printed from one of the computer labs by the looks of the borderline translucent paper, and my chest flutters as I read it.

Please meet me after last bell, or you’ll be BREAKING Tate’s heart 🙂

Location: parking lot, big tree

I smile at the paper and then slide it gently into my satchel. There’s a little skip in my step as we make our way to the gym.

*

I thought that I would beat him to the meet-up because the gym is right next to the lot, but once I’m out of the doors I see that Tate is already by the tree.

But he’s not alone.

The guy with the black hair is standing next to him and they’re both wearing their track gear. There’s a cold pattering of rain and it’s kind of windy but my blood has gone cold for a whole other reason.

Why is someone else here?

By the time that Tate sees me my smile has vanished and I’m nervously pushing my glasses back up my nose. He’s leaning against the tree and his friend is toying with something small in his hands. When I’m about six feet away Tate pushes himself off the trunk and he smiles down at me.

I don’t smile back. Instead, I look pointedly at his friend, who gives me a smug knowing grin in return.

“This is Madden,” Tate tells me, and he tugs at my shirt sleeve to pull me closer to him.

Madden? I give him a frosty once-over. So this is the guy that Kit was talking about.

“Right,” I say, ice pooling in my stomach.

“He knows who you are,” Tate says, the smile still on his lips as he tries to slip my fingers into his.

I shrug him off.

Madden rolls his eyes and fixes me with a cocky, meaningful look. “I was just waiting with him whilst Your Highness was taking her sweet time in the changing rooms,” he says, folding his arms over his chest. “Trust me, I don’t want any part in this.” He jerks his chin at Tate. “See you in five.”

Madden strolls away and Tate laces our hands together, his smile still in place. “Madden’s cool, I promise. He’s not like Huddy.”

I look up at him. Huddy. So that’s the name of the dirty blond.

“Are you unhappy to see me?” he asks, ducking his head down so that our eyes are level. His eyes. I’ll never get over them.

I shake my head, feeling self-conscious and out of my depth. “Sorry, no, that was weird of me. I just didn’t expect… I’m sure he’s awesome.” I muster up a small smile.

Tate pulls the hair tie off my wrist and pushes my curls back from my face, holding them gently in his fist before securing them with the band. When the ponytail is in place he moves his mouth to my ear and whispers mischievously, “Not as awesome as me.”

I laugh and he pulls back, a satisfied swell in his chest.

“Look, I had to meet you today because I’m not going home after practice. I’m heading to Mad’s with the guys so I won’t be home tonight for our thing. I wish I didn’t have to, but I’ll be back tomorrow, so I’m not flaking, I mean it.”

There’s a sad drop in my tummy knowing that I don’t have my favourite part of the evening to look forward to tonight, but there’s also a little flash of lightening in my chest knowing that this is now our thing.

I smile so brightly that I think it offends him. Then I laugh, which makes things even worse.

“That’s fine, Tate,” I say, my voice tinkling with joy. I’m on another sugar high. “That is so fine, I promise.”

It’s my turn to give the please forgive me eyes.

He nods warily and then drops his head, blowing out a little laugh. “God, you’re so cool.”

I choose not to correct him.

He pulls me closer than before, closer than I have ever been to him, until our chests are almost touching. I can smell the cool rain radiating off his warm caramel skin. His hands are so big and sturdy that I want to be covered in them.

Our faces are only a few inches apart. He’s looking down at my mouth so I look up at his. A water droplet runs over the curve of his bottom lip and I think about how it would feel if I were to catch it on my tongue.

His eyes flick back up to mine, now piercing and aflame. He ducks down and presses the raindrop on his mouth against the flushed skin of my cheek. My skin is icy cold and his lips are molten. My blood pumps fast. I think that he might have just added ten years to my life.

He pulls away and squeezes my hands tightly in his. I feel that same compression around my heart. I let go before he has the chance to, moving my hands to grip the strap of my bag.

He puts his hands in the pockets of his shorts and gives me a perfect departing smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, River.”

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