First Flight, Final Fall

by C.W. Farnsworth

“If you’re doing the same as everyone else, you’re not going to be the best.”

“Otto hung a sign that says, ‘Saylor Scott’s Inspiration’ above my locker,” Beck states. A reluctant grin tugs at my lips. “That’s kind of funny.” It’s also nice to know he didn’t totally erase me from his life the way I’ve tried to remove him from mine. “I thought so, too,” Beck admits. “Not that I’ll ever tell him that.”

“Plus, she seems like a low flight risk,” I add. Hallie glares at me for that comment, but my father chuckles. Actually makes a sound of amusement. I can’t recall the last time that happened. Probably because we barely speak.

Because the sight of Adler Beck walking into my living room is not one I ever expected to see.

“I came because I feel this way around you even when we’re just staring at the sky,” Beck continues.

Not because he’s the most famous footballer in the world. Because he calls me every night before I go to bed, despite the fact that it’s the middle of the night for him. Because he sent me a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream on the anniversary of my mother’s departure, so I didn’t have to go buy it myself. Because I’m completely, devastatingly in love with him, even if I haven’t told him so.