Worth the Fall

Chapter 18

I had changed outfits four times.

Which was ridiculous.

And humiliating.

This was the third time he has done this to me.

And, according to my sisters, “the most obvious sign of a crush in human history.”

I hated that they were right.

“No,” I said for what felt like the twentieth time, staring at myself in the mirror. “This one makes me look like I’m trying too hard.”

Sierra, who had somehow appointed herself my stylist despite being thirteen and wearing fuzzy socks with sandals, flopped dramatically across my bed.

“You are trying too hard.”

I turned to glare at her.

“That is not helpful.”

Stacy stood behind me in the mirror with her arms crossed, studying my closet like this was a life-or-death mission.

“Try the blue one.”

“The blue one is too much.”

“The floral one is too church picnic,” Sierra offered.

“Agreed,” Stacy said.

I groaned and threw myself backward onto the bed.

“This is why I don’t date.”

Nathan, unfortunately, had chosen that exact moment to walk by my bedroom door and overhear me.

“No,” he called from the hallway. “This is why you should date. Builds character.”

I sat up and launched a pillow at the doorway.

“Get out!”

He caught it and smirked.

“Tell vampire boy if he breaks your heart, I’ll break his face.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“You couldn’t reach his face on your best day.”

He looked offended.

Then thoughtful.

“Okay, fair.”

He tossed the pillow back and disappeared down the hall.

I sighed and looked at myself in the mirror again.

Tonight mattered more than I wanted to admit.

Not because I expected some fairytale.

Not because I thought Landon Baxter was suddenly going to become the center of my universe.

But because last night had shifted something.

Something I could feel in my chest every time my phone lit up with his name.

Something dangerous.

Something soft.

Something that felt suspiciously like the beginning of a problem.

And the worst part?

I didn’t want to stop it.

My eyes landed on the black dress hanging from my closet door.

Simple.

Fitted at the waist.

Thin straps.

Not too short.

Not too fancy.

Just enough to say I care without screaming I spent an hour and a half spiraling over this.

I stood up and pointed at it.

“That one.”

Stacy grinned.

Sierra clapped.

And just like that, it was decided.

By seven o’clock, I had officially become a different person.

Not literally.

But emotionally? Spiritually? Mentally?

Gone.

Because there is something uniquely cruel about getting dressed up for a boy you’re trying very hard not to fall for.

The dress fit perfectly, hugging just enough without making me feel overexposed. I paired it with white sneakers because I wasn’t about to break an ankle trying to impress anyone, and I curled the ends of my hair just enough to make it look like I hadn’t spent way too long trying to make it look effortless.

A little mascara.

A little gloss.

Tiny silver hoops.

And the ring he bought me yesterday.

Which I absolutely should not have put on.

But I did.

Because apparently I had lost all self-respect sometime around his second “good morning” text.

I was just finishing with my hair when my phone buzzed.

Landon

Here.

That was it.

One word.

And somehow it sent my pulse into immediate cardiac distress.

My sisters practically tackled me on my way downstairs.

“Let us see!” Stacy demanded.

I swatted them both away, but not before they each got a full look and gasped dramatically enough to wake the dead.

“Oh my God,” Sierra whispered. “You look hot.”

I nearly tripped on the last step.

“Please never say that to me again.”

Mom appeared from the kitchen and her face softened the second she saw me.

Not in a dramatic way.

Not in a “you’re all grown up” movie montage kind of way.

Just enough to make my chest ache.

“You look beautiful, honey.”

That one got me more than it should have.

Because no matter how old I got, no matter how much I wanted to seem mature and put together, there was still something about hearing your mom say you look beautiful before a date that made you feel sixteen in the most fragile way.

Dad looked up from the couch and smiled.

“Knock him dead, kid.”

Nathan, sitting on the armrest with the confidence of a man who had never once been humbled in his life, nodded approvingly.

“Okay, wow.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“What?”

He looked deeply offended.

“Nothing. Just… if I was some rich emotionally unavailable guy with tattoos and a superiority complex, I’d be sweating.”

I blinked.

Then I looked at my mother.

“Can we trade him?”

“No refunds,” she said.

Fantastic.

Absolutely fantastic.

Before anyone could make it worse, I grabbed my bag and headed for the front door.

Then I opened it—

And forgot how breathing worked.

Landon was standing by his car in all black.

Of course he was.

Black jeans.

Black boots.

Black button-up with the sleeves rolled just enough to show the tattoos on his forearms.

His dark hair was messier than usual, like he’d run his hands through it too many times.

And when his eyes found me—

He froze.

Actually froze.

Like his entire body had short-circuited.

For one glorious, deeply satisfying second, Landon Baxter forgot how to speak.

And honestly?

That did wonders for my self-esteem.

His gaze moved over me slowly, not disrespectfully, just stunned enough to make my knees go weak.

Then he let out a breath and muttered, almost to himself:

“Jesus.”

I crossed my arms, trying very hard not to smile too hard.

“That bad?”

His eyes snapped back to mine.

“What?”

I tilted my head.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He stepped closer.

Still staring.

Still not blinking nearly enough to be normal.

“No,” he said quietly. “You just… don’t do things like this and expect me to act regular.”

My heart did a violent, deeply inconvenient thing inside my chest.

And because God clearly enjoys watching me suffer, Nathan chose that exact moment to open the front door behind me and yell:

“Use protection!”

I whipped around so fast I nearly got whiplash.

“OH MY GOD!”

My mother screamed his name from inside.

My father started coughing, which suspiciously sounded like laughter.

And Landon?

Landon doubled over.

Actually doubled over laughing.

I wanted to die.

Right there on the porch.

Immediately.

“Your family is insane,” he said through laughter.

I rubbed a hand over my face.

“I’m moving out.”

He opened the passenger door for me, still grinning like the devil himself.

“Don’t,” he said. “I’m starting to understand you a lot better.”

I shot him a glare.

“Drive.”

He didn’t tell me where we were going.

Which should’ve stressed me out.

But somehow, with him, it didn’t.

Or maybe it did and I was just choosing to ignore all my survival instincts.

That was also possible.

We drove with the windows down and music low, the city glowing around us as the sun slipped beneath the skyline. There was something about nighttime in California that made everything feel like it belonged in a movie.

Like anything could happen.

Like maybe if you stayed out long enough, the world would hand you the version of your life you actually wanted.

Landon kept glancing over at me at red lights.

Not in a weird way.

Not even in a cocky way.

Just… like he was making sure I was still there.

And every time I caught him, he’d smirk and look away like he hadn’t just been staring.

Which was rude.

And suspiciously charming.

After the third time, I finally folded my arms and turned toward him.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to start charging.”

He laughed softly, one hand loose on the wheel.

“I’m just trying to figure out how you got even prettier since yesterday.”

I looked out the window immediately.

Because absolutely not.

No.

That was not fair.

That was not a sentence someone was allowed to say to me while I was trapped in a moving vehicle.

“You say things like that on purpose,” I muttered.

“Yeah,” he said easily. “And?”

I turned back to him, scandalized.

“And? You can’t just go around making girls malfunction for fun.”

He grinned.

“You’re malfunctioning?”

“Drive the car, Baxter.”

His laugh filled the space between us and settled somewhere warm in my chest.

And that was the problem with him.

He was too easy to like.

Too easy to lean toward.

Too easy to imagine in places he had no business being.

My future.

My plans.

My life.

It was reckless.

And I knew better than anyone that reckless things usually cost you later.

(Chapter Theme Song: Adore You by Harry Styles)