Falling (book title)

Chapter 1


He walks toward me, shirtless and oh so sexy. His muscles move seductively under his tan skin. A lock of wavy blond hair hangs over his forehead. I watch as he walks to the window and rests his hands on its frame.

Nervously, I take a step back into the shadows. His bright green eyes shift to my hiding place, studying it. He can’t see me, I remind myself, unconsciously moving closer to the tree’s rough truck. As he slides the window open with his free hand, I shrink into the darkness, attempting to blend in. Leaning through the open window, he stares harder into my hiding place. It’s as if he knows I’m here. I push the thought away. He can’t possibly know I’m here, I remind myself.

“I know you’re out there?” he whispers, making goose bumps rise on my flesh.

Again, I have that nagging feeling he is older than the eighteen years he claims to be. He is too mature, too masculine. He makes other boys our age look like little children. At my five nine height, I’m not exactly short, but he is at least six to eight inches taller than I am. His build is broad. My hands itch to touch his muscular pictorials, which tighten as he shifts.

“Hello!” he calls, his voice soft and smooth.

Half expecting him to see me, yet unable to stop myself, I move closer. It makes no difference. He continues to stare blindly into my hiding place. With a sigh, he pulls his head back inside the window and walks away, leaving it wide open, invitingly.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly in order to calm my nerves, I hop from the tree to the house. It’s not far, only a foot, maybe two. Through the open window, I study his stretched out form leaning back against the headboard of his bed. His laptop lays open in his lap. His fingers gracefully move across the keys.

What is he doing? I wonder. Worrying my lower lip with my teeth, I sit on the window seal then hop inside. My bare feet are silent on the soft carpet. He is typing so intently, I’m not sure if he would notice me even if I were physically standing in his room. What is he working on? I wonder. Homework? Before I know I’ve moved, I’m standing beside him, reading the words over his shoulder.





Feb 8th

Opening my window, I search for her. The fragrance of Daisies filling my senses is all the proof I need, for there are no Daisies near. I swear, this time, I can hear her breathe. I call for her, but of course, she does not answer. It matters not, for I know the truth. A truth even she cannot imagine.




The computer snaps shut suddenly. I take a step back, holding my breath as he looks around the room expectantly. My heart hammers in my chest. If he could smell me standing out on the tree limb, he has to be able to smell me now. My insides quiver nervously.

“I know you’re here,” he says in a soft whisper.

Ignoring the way his low whisper makes butterflies take flight inside me, I close my eyes, quickly retracing my path back home. When I open my eyes again, it’s to stare at the blue vaulted ceiling of my own bedroom.