The False Flat

CHAPTER 26

A MILLION RAINDROPS

“How did I let you guys talk me into this?” My eyes cut to Grant, William, and Deanna.

All around us, dozens of bicyclists were clustered together on a hill behind a starting line, all wearing white, like an impending avalanche.

Someone in a tie-dye shirt near the start rope yelled into a microphone, thanking the riders for joining in this year’s color ride. Based on the famous Color Run, this cycling event—the Color Wheel—showered each rider with colored, food-grade cornstarch as they made their way down a stationed path. All raised funds went to Venture Miles, an organization bent on ending human trafficking.

“You’ll love it! I promise,” Deanna answered, raising her voice against a warm August gust.

William scooted up to my left. “I love riding, D. This is silly.”

She shrugged. “It’s for a good cause!”

Elaine leaned over Grant to join our conversation, which made it harder to pretend she wasn’t there. “I agree with you, Deanna. I’m riding more and more because of this guy, and I love it.” Her eyes literally sparkled as she glanced at Grant, whose smile in response made me feel itchy.

Why did the woman always have to touch him? And why did she look like she was about to pose for Cycling Weekly? You didn’t wear a brand-new, hot-pink-and-black, skintight tramp suit when you were about to have colored powder thrown at you, especially when everyone was explicitly told to wear white. I made myself stop. Elaine was anything but a tramp, and I hated admitting her positive qualities, her many, many positive qualities.

It was all fine. Totally fine. Grant and Elaine were still dating. Grant and I were friends.

It was totally fine.

I was totally fine.

Itwas totally fine.

Erin and I had lived together for a little over a month at this point, and for the past several weeks, we’d both kept our heads down, making plans and growing our business. She cooked most nights she was home but had spent several with her family—I wasn’t sure how she worked so hard and managed to interact with so many people—leaving me either alone or with Hulk, whom I’d bonded with over late-night movies when I was too wired to sleep. He liked Cap’n Crunch.

I hadn’t spent much time with Deanna, though, except to discuss the catering menu for the upcoming marketing dinner, which had now turned into a client appreciation event as well. I also hadn’t been on any bike rides with William and Grant. This particular ride meant a lot: precious time with all my new people—and Elaine.

“It’s like you people have a code that I’m not programmed to interpret,” Deanna pouted.

“Aww,” Elaine cooed. “Don’t worry, Deanna. We can stick together if these guys get ahead of us.” Another sparkling grin. A playful pat to Grant’s arm.

“Nah, we’d never leave Deanna behind,” I assured her with a smile I hoped held no disgust.

Elaine might have Grant, but she wasn’t getting Deanna.

“If this is what gets you to ride, I’ll take it.” William pointed past me and Deanna to the clunker Grant was on. “Where’s Gaia?”

“She doesn’t like these rides.” He shook his head and grimaced. “Colored powder in every crevice ...”

“That’s something we have in common,” William said, which earned him a stern look from Deanna. “Isn’t she jealous?”

I started to protest—out loud—but managed to stop myself, realizing William had been talking about Gaia, not me.

“She takes care of me; I take care of her. We agreed that her staying home was best for both of us.”

“Oh, Grant,” Elaine said, butting in. “What does ‘Gaia’ mean?”

“Gaia was a Greek goddess.”

“The personification of the earth,” I finished. I’d researched it.

Grant smelled like the earth, like the dirt rose up one day and spit out a man. The name was perfect. But I wished I’d kept my mouth shut because I was being petty, trying to show Elaine up.

Normally, my body automatically knew what to do on a bicycle, but now, I was overly aware of how each limb was positioned and how each piece of lint on each limb was positioned in case Grant looked my way because I-know-when-someone-likes-someone Erin had told me Grant liked me weeks ago. And even though I knew he didn’t like me like that, the thought had been rolling around in my head like a wheel that wanted to run over Elaine.

“Everybody ready?” Grant glanced from left to right.

“As I’ll ever be,” I said under my breath. At least I didn’t have to worry about seeing them as numbers; I was riding, which was my other coping mechanism.

The brightly adorned man with the microphone started counting down, and a sea of helmets bobbed on the road as the riders prepared for takeoff.

“Three . . . two . . .”

“Don’t forget to keep your mouth closed!” William shouted.

“One!”

A shot was fired into the air, and along with it, a rainbow rained down on all the riders as if a leprechaun had leaped across the road to his pot of gold.

The loud cheers and giddy laughter momentarily stunned me, and I was nearly run over as wheels started moving forward.

“You okay?” Grant’s voice strained over the crowd’s excitement.

“I think so. Just wish I’d listened to William and hadn’t opened my mouth.” My tongue flicked against my palate as I tasted the slightly bitter powder that had been thrown in my face.

A gust of laughter shot out of him. “Rookie mistake. Yellow suits you, though.”

I puffed a small cloud of yellow powder in Grant’s direction as he and Elaine rode off. I hated the way his compliment slowed me down and made me want to wear yellow every day from now on.

I didn’t see them again until the green station, where lime-colored powder was caked on top of our already red, orange, and yellow forms.

Deanna caught me watching Grant and Elaine throw fistfuls of powder at each other. “She’s nice, isn’t she?”

“Very. They make a cute couple.”

“You hate her, don’t you?”

I choked, my arms flopping by my sides. “How can I possibly hate her? She’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. She’s beautiful. She’s funny.”

“And you actively avoid her.”

My hands went to my face. “Is it that obvious?”

“Nah. Probably just to me. To everyone else, you’re Prickly Pen.” She winced when my head whipped toward her.

“Is that what people call me?”

She shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, I adore you, but you don’t always give off the friendliest vibe. If I hadn’t caught you with your guard down at the store that day, we probably wouldn’t be friends now.”

My mouth dropped open, which was ridiculous because I knew this about myself.

“I’m kidding. Mostly. But you could stand to lighten up. It’s okay to live. It’s also okay to like Grant.”

“I don’t like Grant.” The words shot out of my mouth like a cannon; then I picked up a pile of powder and catapulted it into Deanna’s face. Playfully, I hoped. All fun and games here. No repressed feelings.

She huffed, rubbed her eyes, and spit powder out. “I know you went to the restaurant to meet Grant when you found out I couldn’t make it.”

Fire. My face was on fire. “So? I felt sorry for him, and we’re friends.”

“If you were friends, you wouldn’t have pretended it was a coincidence.”

I blinked. “How do you—did you tell him?”

“Of course not. What kind of friend do you think I am?” She spit again. “There’s no denying Elaine’s a good fit for Grant, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t someone better. They haven’t been dating that long. He started dating her about six weeks before you moved here.”

That made over six months. That wasn’t a long time? “Grant deserves someone like Elaine.”

“Grant deserves someone who loves him as much as he loves her.” Deanna shrugged and put her feet on her pedals. “Maybe that’s Elaine, maybe it isn’t.” Her hand moved, and before I could react, I was covered from head to toe in green powder.

Ol’ Prickly Pen had that one coming.

On our way to the next station, the sun vanished, and rain poured in sheets. Nearly drowned out by the sound, a man shouted into his cupped hands and directed all the riders to a large rec center a short distance away.

Bikers pushed toward shelter, through the puddles rapidly forming in the grass. William, Deanna, Elaine, and I were moving in the same direction until I realized Grant wasn’t with us.

I looked back toward the path. And there he was, alone on the paved trail, legs straddling not-Gaia, arms outstretched, face to the sky as rain danced around him, completely uninhibited. Like nothing else mattered.

“What’s he doing out there?” Deanna asked.

William hunched his shoulders against a gust of wind. “Being Grant. He does this kind of thing all the time.” He turned back in the direction of the pavilion. “Come on, ladies. He’ll meet up with us when he comes to his senses.”

Deanna followed. Elaine hesitated. I turned back toward the path.

“You aren’t seriously thinking of staying out here with him,” William half asked.

“I’m beginning to question whether we need to start building an ark here; someone needs to get him.”

“Maybe I should come with you,” Elaine offered, staring down at her hands.

Elaine was the last person I wanted with me.

“Oh my goodness, your hands are white!” Deanna shouted, gesturing to Elaine’s hands now too.

“I have Raynaud’s.” Responding to our blank looks, she went on, “My fingers turn white or blue when I get too cold. Blood vessel problem.” The August heat had significantly cooled in the rain.

Deanna steered Elaine toward the shelter. “Come on. Pen can try to talk some sense into Grant and join us if she can’t.”

“Once he’s set, he’s set,” William said, but I leaned my bicycle against the thick trunk of a maple tree and moved toward Grant before anyone said anything else and silently praised whatever that Raynaud’s thing was.

“You’re as absurd as he is!” William shouted.

“More so!” I returned, sloshing my way back to the main path. They didn’t know what this was going to do to my hair.

The rain beat down like percussion. Grant was barely visible through the curtain of water, but I moved forward anyway. Even though the day had been approaching hot, the lack of sun and the stream of water cooled my skin. This was a mistake. William was right. I knew that. Why was I still outside?

When Grant saw me, his mouth curled. He unstraddled his bike and met me just as my foot hit the pavement. “I thought you were taking cover.”

“I was until I saw you out here like a madman.”

“Aren’t you just as mad if you’re out here with me?”

“That’s what William said.” I linked my arm in his, tried pulling him forward. Heat spread from the spot where our slick skin connected and spiraled throughout the rest of my body until I nearly forgot it was raining. “Come on.” My voice was charred by the increasing heat of his contact, so the words came out husky and too sensual.

“You know what I think?”

That we should stop touching?

“Apparently I have no idea because we’re actively drowning, and you don’t seem to care.”

“Again, you’re right here beside me.”

“I came after you!”

“Look around, Penelope. What do you see?”

“Rain. Lots of it.” My arm was still in his, so I tried pulling him forward again. I shouldn’t have been out there alone with him. It was dangerous. I might do something I’d regret, because this heat actively building inside me was scrambling my brain cells.

He spun me around, held my shoulders so I faced away from him. He whispered in my ear, “Stop thinking of this as the thing that ruined the ride. Stop looking at the water as something you need to escape. It’s a dance. Each and every cold drop on your skin is refreshing, like the best spa you could ever visit, and the smell ... oh, the smell. That smell is summer. An entire season summed up in one downpour. And everyone else is missing it.”

His breath swirled against my ear, eliciting more heat, like a flare in steadily burning fire. For several seconds, time was suspended in the drops falling all around us.

“So,” he went on, “I’m thinking you didn’t follow the others, because you wanted this. Right here, where you don’t know what to expect next, but you don’t care because you’re free.”

What was he saying?

I watched the red, orange, yellow, and green powder that covered us both cascade down our bodies like a discarded sunset.

We couldn’t stay like this. I moved out of his grip, turned, and smiled back at him, pulling off my helmet. And then I reached down to unlace my expensive running shoes—shoes I never should’ve worn to a color ride. I pulled them off and tossed them on the pavement beside me.

His eyebrows arched, amusement tucked into his half smile. Then I ran, my socked feet leaving the trail and heading into the wooded area just on the other side of the road.

Water splashed into my face. A spa, he’d said. And that was how it felt. Arms outstretched, head held high, I brought my feet down in the oversaturated mud, brown water flying up on either side of my legs, my white leggings a human canvas. I’d needed to be away from Grant, but also, I was free.

It felt good—until my foot slid on a patch of bare dirt that had turned into a mini mudslide, and I coasted to the ground, laughing like a maniac in my own personal mud bath, surrounded by tall deciduous trees whose leaves were fighting the weather to stay attached.

He dropped down beside me. When I finally stopped laughing, I let my head fall back into the mud, but it wasn’t the ground. It was Grant’s lap.

Our eyes snapped together. A large raindrop fell from his mustache and hit my cheek.

“I don’t know what came over me.” I also didn’t know how I was able to speak with my head in his lap.

“That’s the best way to live. Not knowing what comes next.”

“Isn’t that the scariest way?”

“Not if you’re living in the moment, enjoying what’s right in front of you. The future can’t touch right now. Neither can the past.”

I shouldn’t have done what I did next, but I wasn’t thinking, which was the problem. I pushed up, threw my arms around his neck, and pulled his face to mine. I kissed him like the next moment didn’t matter. I kissed him now. Not was. Not will be. Now.

The cold droplets sizzled wildly when they hit the heat of my skin. I barely registered the rough prickle of his mustache against my face, because my focus was on the softness of his lips as they moved against my own. My pulse beat with the thud of the rain still popping around us.

When he pulled away, our eyes remained locked. His fingertips adjusted the hank of hair about to land in my left eye.

Then he swallowed, his eyes breaking from mine. He guided me up until I was sitting. I crossed my feet at my ankles and wrapped my arms around my legs.

Our moment was over, and I didn’t like the one that followed, the one where I had to pay for what I’d done.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Done exactly what I asked you to do?”

An awkward laugh fell out of my mouth. “You didn’t ask me to kiss you.”

He shifted in the mud, propping himself up on his arms.

“I like you—”

I stopped him before he could say “but.” “Why do you like me?” Like the kiss, I shouldn’t have asked it. But I wasn’t ready for this to be over. The cover of rain and mud made the whole scenario surreal, like I could do anything without consequence.

“You want a list? Okay.” His head rolled on his shoulders as if he was warming up for a sprint. Another man would’ve laughed the question off. Grant met it head on. “You’re funny. You’re easy, and not in the bad way. Being with you is like being alone, if that makes sense. You’re a little tough to crack, but I’ve found it’s been worth the effort. You’re kind, considerate ...” He stuck his neck out. “Shall I keep going?”

I hoped the rain hid how much he’d affected me.

“You don’t really know me.”

“Don’t I? I know you like honey on your waffles instead of syrup, but not so much that it pools on your plate. I know you count the ice cubes in your glass even if you’re deep in conversation, and condensation seems to fascinate you beyond logical explanation. I know you love animals, even though you don’t want the responsibility of taking care of one yourself. I know you love Hulk, even though you pretend he’s annoying. I know you’re self-conscious about your hair. And you think you’re unlovable.”

I’d been watching him with rapt attention, but this last thing made me inhale sharply.

“How do I know all those things?” He read my face. “When you care about something, you pay attention. It’s impossible not to.”

His words knocked all the air out of my lungs.

On either side of me, I squished mud through my fingers. Was this just a Grant thing? It had to be. He probably knew these things about the lunch lady behind the counter at the meat ’n’ three. I said as much to him, and he chuckled, a low rumble that said, Of course I do.

“I don’t think I’m unlovable.” I felt more than saw the skepticism nestled into Grant’s brow as he looked at me. I shrugged. “Okay, maybe a little, but it’s mostly the other way around.”

“Explain.”

I wasn’t sure he’d understand. My eyes closed. “I don’t think I’m capable of loving, at least not how I’m supposed to.”

“Same thing.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him, uncomprehending. “How is that the same thing?”

“Sometimes, when you find the right person to love you, reciprocation is automatic.” Grant rocked forward and, in a surprisingly smooth maneuver, propped himself up on his knees, bringing his face closer to mine.

It irritated me that he was minimizing my major life flaw. I always picked the wrong person, the married person, the person I could never truly love because it was easier. If I didn’t really love someone, then I couldn’t be hurt when the relationship ended, could I?

“It’s not that simple,” I said.

“Have you heard of Holi?”

I shook my head.

“It’s a festival they have every year in India. It’s why I like this color ride. They do this sort of thing, throw color around. People come together and forget all the wrong done to them, all the bad things, all the negativity. They celebrate unification. I’ve been. And every single person there was smiling because they’d let it all go.

“It’s okay to let yourself feel grief and sorrow, but it’s also okay to let it go, to let people in, to let all kinds of people love you and be loved in return. A lot of people will hurt you, but when you find love, friendship, a good hairstylist, whatever, it’s worth it. And life isn’t worth living if you don’t take risks.”

“How do you—”

He touched my cheek like he could distinguish tears from raindrops. “I’ve been thinking about this stuff ever since you told me about your brother. I won’t pretend to completely understand, but I’ve been where you are, that headspace where life seems impossible. I think these are the things I would’ve wanted to hear, that I eventually learned.”

I collected the thoughts scattered around my head as I held my hand up. I watched each swell of water hit my palm and scatter the dirt clinging to my skin as I wondered ... wondered about Grant and what made him unlike anyone I’d ever known.

I’d been with good men. I’d stayed with them because they made me feel safe and comfortable, but they were safe because I knew I’d never love them. They were comfortable because I wasn’t completely alone. As soon as they wanted more, I got out. I’d tried to change that with Chad, convince myself I was capable of commitment, only to discover that I wasn’t actually changing. I was trying to put a puzzle together with missing pieces, or rather, the wrong pieces entirely.

The rain stopped, and as suddenly as it had left, the sun returned. The loss of privacy stung. Now our conversation seemed spotlighted by the sun, something I couldn’t hide from.

In the distance, riders filed out of the shelter. I wondered how we would explain our mud-caked appearances.

I nodded, and Grant helped me to my feet, our conversation over just like that. I wanted to pull him back, stop him from leading me forward, back to the others, back to Elaine. I wanted the rain to start again. I wanted to kiss him again. I needed more time right here.

My heart ached because I knew what he’d said was true. Wasn’t that why I’d moved in the first place? A reckoning. I hadn’t been sure what all I needed to change, just that I couldn’t keep going the way I’d been, repeating the same grayscale pattern, a stagnant life, devoid of color and vibrancy. And here I was doing the same thing over again, kissing a man who belonged to someone else. But this time, I was certain of this man’s relationship status.

Even though I was sick with guilt—because I didn’t regret kissing him as much as I should’ve—I shoved the corners of my mouth upward when Deanna ran up. As she asked questions and scanned our clothes, inside I told myself the only reason I’d wanted to kiss Grant was because he was off limits. I told myself he was like every other relationship I’d had: a safeguard against real hurt, someone I couldn’t ever truly love.

What I wouldn’t let myself focus on was the thought that came on the heels of the first, one much scarier than the idea that he was like everyone else.

The one that told me he wasn’t.