Fall (VIP, #3)

by Kristen Callihan

Jesus wept, I cannot look away. I. Cannot. Look. Away.

“I’m being chivalrous,” he says in protest. “Seriously, mark the date because this is a first.”

“Fuck you with a swizzle stick.”

What is a swizzle stick?

I fight a smile because he is adorable up there on his soapbox, swinging his sword for me. I see the second it registers that I’m not fighting him. He blinks a few times, his pugnacious expression turning wry. “You were just going to let me go on and on, weren’t you?” “It was a lovely speech.” I lose hold of my smile. “How could I halt it?”

“There is no such thing as perfect. Human beings make mistakes. Humans who feel greatly often make the biggest ones. It’s the intent that counts. Is it a mistake based on hate, selfishness, or moral cowardice? Give them no quarter. But an honest mistake backed by a true heart is another matter entirely.”

She told me she’s a professional friend, someone whose job it is to make other people feel a little less lonely in life, and that had been it for me. I fell straight into the abyss. My want of her isn’t just physical; it is soul deep.

“I said that because I wanted to be close to you and am too emotionally stunted to man up to it. There isn’t anyone I want to be around more than you. You occupy my thoughts, haunt my dreams. I can no more stay away from you than I can try to keep my heart from beating.” His words are

“Utter another word and I will bite you like a rabid ferret.”