The Fall Before Flight

by L.M. Halloran

“What you love is making them feel,” he says, that deep voice fluttering between my legs. I tense. “What? No.” His head tilts, pale eyes floating over my features, leaving frostbite behind. “You shock and hurt people because their responses tell you they care. More than anything, you want people to care.”

“What you do—the pranks, the manipulating, the lying—you’re in search of human experience. And believe me, you would thrive just as easily on happiness and gratitude as you do on hurt and surprise.”

I expect him to smirk, or make a joke, but he doesn’t. “Do you need help getting undressed?” he asks slowly and precisely. I know the tone well. “You think I’m crazy.” He shakes his head. “I think you have a lot of pain trapped inside you.” His eyes make a slow map of my features. “Something happened to you. Something bad.” The surface of my secrets shifts, buckling against ice. “Something bad happens to everyone.” I pull off my top. It plops wetly on the ground, where it’s joined shortly by the miniskirt and my underwear. “Jesus, Mia,” hisses Callum, eyes hungry as they travel my body. “You really know how to push a guy to his breaking point.” My specialty.

I say, “Go ahead and break. No one’s stopping you.” His jaw hardens as he takes a rigid step toward me. A finger traces my nipple, pebbled beneath the water, before trailing down my belly. Just when I think I have him, he stalls, breathing heavily, and takes a large step backward. Wincing, he squeezes his heavy erection with one hand, then gives me a sad smile. “I’ve had my heart broken too many times. And you”—he shakes his head slowly—“I think you might ruin me.” I ignore the second disappointment—or is it the third?—of the evening. “I’m not offering love, just sex.” “That’s my problem,” he says with a small shrug. “I don’t know the difference.”

“Taking care of the gifts others have given us isn’t a punishment. It’s a privilege.”

“Are you?” he asks cryptically. “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re complicated, and passionate, and terrified of the depth at which you feel things. It’s easier for you to pretend you don’t feel anything at all. A coping mechanism.” “Wrong.” I cross my arms over my chest, wishing I had another cigarette. We smoked his last two. “The problem isn’t that I can’t feel anything, it’s that I can’t feel fear. And believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve put myself in horrible situations. Dangerous ones. Short of strolling naked into a biker bar, I’ve walked some shady lines. Scared the shit out of everyone who cared about me. Everyone except myself.” “Because you don’t care about yourself,” he states sadly.

“Let me put it to you this way,” he interjects. “When we met, you immediately triggered my obsessive disorder. A part of that means I become hyperaware of potential challengers. Competition. I’ve seen him look at you when he thinks no one’s watching.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

I nudge his shoulder. “I’m going to bed. Wanna come?” He groans. “Fuck you, Goldie.” I waggle my eyebrows. “That’s the offer.” Chuckling, he turns away. “I like you too much to have sex with you,” he throws over his shoulder. “Hey, that’s my line!”

Ruben nods sagely, glancing at each of us in turn. “I want everyone to think about this phrase: neurons that fire together, wire together. What this means is that when uncomfortable or traumatic moments in childhood are linked to an action—say, smoking a cigarette or eating or taking a drug—your brain wires itself to always connect those emotions to the corresponding coping mechanism.” I frown as his words drop in the dark, deep well of my memory, and wonder if this explains why I hate rain and don’t associate sex with emotional intimacy. After all, it was raining when my mother and brother died and I lost my virginity to a stranger.

Regret lives in the past and fear in the future, but neither exist in the present. Let’s live in the moment, one day at a time.”

“Finding acceptance is a powerful motivator in the search for relationships.

I love this more than you can imagine