Fear of Falling

said it all. It hinted at the secrets she kept locked away, tempting my curiosity. I couldn’t help myself; I needed to unveil her mystery. I needed to know Kami, and dammit, she needed to know me too. She just didn’t know it yet.
    “Dude, you ready to go yet?” CJ asked, appearing in the doorway of the back office as I counted the cash drawer after closing. He had a chick under each arm, each one tipsy, half-dressed and, unbeknownst to him, looking at me like I was a Porterhouse steak. I diverted my attention back to the money in front of me. I’d rather lick the bar’s toilet seat. It’d probably be much cleaner than touching any of the girls CJ usually pulled.
    “What’d I tell you about bringing chicks back here, man?” I snapped at him as I prepared the night’s deposit. “I don’t wanna hear shit when Mick strangles you.”
    CJ shrugged, but quickly began to retreat. He was well aware of his dad’s fiery temper. It ran in the family. “Fine. But we’re waiting out here for you. Hurry up; I’m fucking starving. Oh, and Wendy is out there too.”
    ShitDamnFuck.
    I knew when I reentered the bar that the atmosphere had shifted. I could feel it. Kami was wiping down the sink area, wearing the same impassive guise she had donned since CJ alluded to some of my past dealings with Wendy. Still, the fact that she was affected, even if it made me look like bed-hopping player, made me feel good. I knew she cared. And if she cared enough to get pissed that Wendy was sitting at the bar, smiling while her nipples were practically winking at me, maybe she cared enough to give me the time of day. Maybe she could let me in, so I could see what all she hid behind those green eyes.
    “Hey there, stranger,” Wendy piped up. Kami’s head snapped to me in surprise. I thought I saw just the tiniest suggestion of a smile before her brow furrowed and she turned back to her task.
    No. I couldn’t have that. I wouldn’t accept her attempt at brushing me off, whether Wendy was sitting three feet away or not.
    I strode up to her, turned and leaned back against the bar so she would have no choice but to look at me. “Hey Kami, a bunch of us usually go out for breakfast on the weekends after closing. I want you to come with us.”
    She was already shaking her head before I even got my question out. “Thanks, but no. I’ll have to pass. Maybe some other time.”
    Her mouth said the words, but her face was regretful. Like maybe she wanted to go. Maybe she wanted to be near me just as bad as I needed to be near her.
    I took a step closer, letting my arm brush against hers. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” I asked, catching her gaze and pinning it with my own. She couldn’t look away; I wouldn’t let her.
    I could hear the breath catch in her throat as long moments ticked by without either of us saying a word. There was nothing left to say. The words were evident in every heated breath we took, close enough for our scents to mingle, creating our very own fragrance. Kami wanted me, and I’d be damned if I let her deny that fact.
    “Why do you do that?” she scowled, her eyes narrowing into tiny slits. She took a step back, breaking the contact that bound us just seconds before.
    “Do what?”
    “Look at me like that. Like you’re looking through me. It’s…unnerving.”
    I let my mouth curl up on one corner and again closed the distance between us. Something inside me did a backflip when she didn’t move away.
    “I’m not looking through you, Kami,” I said only for her ears. I didn’t need an audience; I just needed her to really hear me. “I’m looking into you. I’m standing here, wondering how the hell a girl so beautiful could hold so much sadness in her gorgeous green eyes. And I’m asking myself why I want—no—why I need to know what’s made her so sad. And what I can do to take away every ounce of that sadness. I need to know what it will take for you to let me in, so I can do just that.”
    Her lips parted just as her eyes grew with shock. Yet, I still continued to stare into those emerald pools. I was ready to drown in them at that point. Anything to keep her here with me.
    Her throat moved as if she was swallowing a knot. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.
    “No? Then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that this,” I motioned between us, “is imaginary. And that no matter how hard you try to deny and fight it, you don’t feel it too. Tell me that