The Fall Risk: A Short Story

Have you ever heard of the orange peel theory?” Izzy asked.

“No, what’s that?”

It was midnight, I was lying in bed. Seth and I said good night half an hour ago after eating way too many Whore cookies and watching Netflix from his laptop on the landing.

“You give a guy an orange and ask him to peel it for you,” she said. “It tells you what kind of person he is.”

“How?”

“Because it’s such a small ask. If he complains about it or forgets, he’s probably gonna complain and forget to do other shit that’s more important.”

“Okay . . .”

“Gabe peeled an orange for me.”

I smiled. “Really . . .”

“Look, he’s not my type, okay? I’m attracted to red flags and power, he’s way too soft for me.”

“But . . .”

“I don’t know. He’s goofy in a way that gives me a hard-on. We went to IKEA.”

“You went to IKEA?”

“I know, I know.”

“You know what they say about that store, right? You don’t let a man take you to IKEA unless you’re serious because it makes you imagine a life together.”

“I’m not imagining a life with Gabe.” She said his name like it tasted bad. “He’s got a Dungeons & Dragons towel hanging on the wall of his bedroom. I cannot date that no matter what he can do with his tongue.”

I blanched.

“I just wanted you to know that I approve of Seth’s best friend.”

“And that’s important why?”

“Because you can tell a lot about someone by who they hang out with? He’s got good people around him.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. As if Seth needed anything else to recommend him.

“I think I almost kissed him earlier,” I said. “I lost my mind for a second, forgot who I was.”

“Why can’t you kiss him?”

“Because it’s not safe for him? I can’t kiss anyone. I have this creep who thinks I’m his celestial wife, you think he’s going to be any less dangerous to someone I date? Maybe even more. It’s not fair to him. I wouldn’t wish my situation on anyone.”

She didn’t argue. Because she knew I was right.

“Not that he’s into me,” I mumbled.

“He is.”

I sat up on my elbows. “How do you know? Did Gabe say something?”

“No. I couldn’t waterboard it out of him—I think he wanted me to try.”

I scoffed and flopped back down.

“Because he’d be an idiot to not be into you,” she said. “And as for George, I know you don’t think so, but you’re ready for that sick motherfucker. If he ever shows up again, he’s going to rue the day he messed with you.”

“You think so?” I said, rubbing my forehead.

“You’re lethal. And I know this because I made you that way, and I’m very fucking good at what I do. You just need to believe it the way I believe it.”

I blew a breath out. I did believe it. Objectively.

Could I take down an attacker or put a bullet between his eyes? Yes. In theory. But what I was trained to do in a controlled environment on soft wrestling mats or shooting ranges without any of the variables of a real-life encounter was very different from actually doing it.

I didn’t know if I could.

George terrified me. And the terror made me weak.

I couldn’t honestly say who I’d be if I came face-to-face with him. Would I freeze? Or would I fight?

I hoped I never had to find out.

“So what do I do about Gabe?” she asked. “The usual stuff isn’t scaring him off.”

“Why do you want to scare him off? Maybe he’ll make you happy. Don’t be like me, condemned to a life of celibacy and loneliness.”

“The celibacy is optional.”

I bobbed my head. “True.”

“I can always ask him for money,” she said. “That usually works.”

“Ha.”

We went quiet.

“Izzy?”

“Yeah?”

“Red flag guys aren’t your type. They’re your pattern.”

There was a long pause. “Why’d you have to come for me like that?”

“Because I love you. I want to see you happy. I think you pick toxic men because it’s what you think you deserve. And then you chase them off, or they prove they’re exactly what you think they are, and they leave you, and you think you deserve that too. You don’t. You are very worth loving. And sticking around for.”

Silence.

“I love you too,” she said. “I’m probably still going to chase him off, though.”

“Why?”

She sniffed. “Because patterns are hard to break.”

Yes, they are. But I hoped she did it anyway.

We hung up a few minutes later. I was about to go to sleep when my phone vibrated. A text from Seth. I grinned and called him.

“Charlotte . . . ,” he said, picking up immediately.

“Did you just send what I think you sent me?”

“An unsolicited deck pic? Yes, yes, I did.”

I snorted.

“If you trimmed those hedges, it would look bigger,” I said.

He laughed.

“I wanted to show you that tree I told you about. It’s the one behind the barbecue.”

“Oh yeah,” I said, zooming in. “I can see it. The little initials you carved into it.”

“Long, looong before I had the respect I now have for oaks. You’d never catch me doing this today.”

“Of course. So this is your parents’ house?”

“Yeah.”

“It seems nice.”

“It is,” he said. “You should come meet them.”

“Meet your parents . . .”

“Yeah, they’d love you.”

“They’d love me? The girl you’ve known for less than a blink of the eye to a redwood?”

“Yes, but we are not trees though. It’s much, much longer for me. And much more important.”

I went quiet on my end.

Izzy was right. Seth was a little into me. And I had to put a stop to it.

“Seth . . . you know how we talked about fall risks?” I said.

“Yeah.”

I paused. “I think you are a bit of a fall risk for me.”

I could practically feel the smile through the phone. “You’re a fall risk for me too.”

“That’s not a good thing,” I said. “I am not in a place where I can do that right now.”

“Why not?”

I let a breath out through my nose.

I didn’t want to get into it. Mostly because I was afraid I’d tell him my reasons, and he’d try to talk me out of them or tell me it was okay. The truth was, it wasn’t okay. Even if he thought it was.

Imagine me as someone’s girlfriend. Moving every few months, being on constant alert, jumping at every noise. Can’t go anywhere, can’t do anything because even though 99 percent of the time George doesn’t show up, I’m worried that he will.

I’m not the kind of girl you bring home to your parents because I’d be checking the rearview the entire way there. I’d be worried I’d be exposing them to danger, that their trash would be sifted through next, that the next 2:00 a.m. knock at the door would be at their house instead of mine.

This thing Seth and I were doing, it wasn’t real life. I’m not really carefree and fun. And the second those stairs went back up, he’d see that.

When I didn’t answer, he changed the subject.

“Hey, tomorrow morning, I need you to not check your door camera,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to be doing something out there, and I don’t want you to see it?”

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll text you when it’s okay to come out.”

I smiled into the phone.

“Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day,” he said. “Not that the thing I’m doing is for that. Unless you want it to be for that.”

“It cannot be for that,” I said sadly.

There was a disappointed silence on the other end of the line.

“Good night, Seth.”

“Good night, Charlotte.”

Then we hung up like he was a million miles from here and not just a few easy steps away from my front door.