Page 6 of Nail Me Down

And then she says the unexpected. I thought maybe she’d pull away or say something awkward. Nope. She simply asks, “How do you know I’m sad?”

And like a grade-A asshole, I state the obvious. “I would have bought you pink flowers.” I shouldn’t say it. It’s too intimate. It’s too revealing. But I can’t help myself.

Her voice is quiet in reply, muffled against my chest. “Why would you say that?”

“They’re your favourite.”

With that little tidbit, she pushes back. I said too much. Way too much. Damn. I shouldn’t be saying this to my friend’s girlfriend. No matter how much I’ve grown to dislike the dude.

“Um, I should—” her eyes bounce from mine to the floor “—call Damon.”

“Ya.” I let her go. I have to. I start to back away and make my way to the door when she calls my name, and like the besotted fool that I am, my heart soars.

“Ford?”

“Ya?”

“Can I…um…use your phone?”

Yup. That’s my life. Letting the girl I’ve been crushing on use my phone to call her douche canoe of a boyfriend. “Sure.”

We walk downstairs together like we’re heading into a funeral, all solemn and sad. But that’s probably just me. As I hand her the phone, I take a seat on the couch. She doesn’t go far and I hear the phone ring.

“Hey man what’s up?” Damon’s clear voice rings through but is quickly cut off by a woman.

“Give me that,” the woman on the other end obviously says to Damon, and then begins her interrogation. “Who are you and why are you calling my boyfriend in the middle of the night?” Only it’s not an inquisition and she starts giggling. My heart launches itself into my throat as I watch Holly’s face crumble.

Without a word from Holly, Damon jumps back on the phone thinking he’s talking to me. “Gotta go, man.”

Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. My heart is swelling up in my throat and I have no words. No idea what to do or what to say. If Damon was here I’d throat punch him, but I have nowhere to channel my adrenaline.

My phone is sitting in Holly’s hand, and she’s frozen in time.

“Shit, Holly. Are you okay?”

She just looks up at me with a blank look and then tears start to pool in her eyes. The raging hard on I had has disappeared, so I think it’s safe to hold her again but I don’t know if that’s what she needs.

I go up to her anyway and put my arms around her. Her body’s stiff, but she drops her forehead to my chest.

“You’re gonna be alright, Holly. It’s okay.” I start to say shit that makes no sense and is super cliche, but I’ve got nothing else to offer her. Well, nothing appropriate.

Her sniffles have me looking around for some tissue paper, and I—begrudgingly—remove my arms from around her to grab some.

“I’m sorry, Holly—”

“Why are you apologizing?” she chokes out.

I grab the back of my neck, not sure what stance to take here. “I dunno. I’m Canadian?”

Her half sob half laugh tells me that was the right answer.

“I’m sorry you’re sad. I hate to see you this way.”

“You do?”

“Ya.”

We just stare at each other. Her eyes are searching me, though I don’t know what for. Finally, after my heart has thumped out several dozen more loud beats, she says, “You know what the crazy part is?”