Free The Edge of Falling by Rebecca Serle

Kensington,” I say. My brother was only two grades ahead of me, and I knew everyone in his class, more or less.
    “Grammar school,” he says. “We’ve been in London for the last few years.”
    “Oh.” That makes sense. My brother went to Prep until the ninth grade, so we were in different schools. Prep is all boys, and a lot of them choose to go to middle school there instead of Wheatley. Prep doesn’t go all the way through, though, so they all transfer in.
    My shoulders start to drop a little. “You recognized me?”
    He tilts his head to the side. “I have a pretty good memory.” I feel his eyes loop my face. “You always used to come with your mom to pick your brother up. You haven’t changed very much.”
    I shake my head. “You have no idea.”
    “You want a drink?” he asks.
    I motion to the orange juice in my hand.
    “There’s no alcohol in there,” he says.
    “No?” I bring the cup to my lips.
    “No way,” he says. “You’re not a vodka girl.” He motions for the bartender. “Two whisky sours,” he says. To me: “You’ll like it. I promise.”
    “What do you promise?” I ask. I’m feeling just a little bit flirtatious. Maybe it’s all the vitamin C. More likely the fact that I can practically feel Claire’s eyes boring into me and her voice: Can’t you ever just pretend to have fun?
    “I don’t make contingency plans,” he says. “Just trust me.”
    He takes out a lighter and flicks the flame up. It startles me and I blink, taking a step backward.
    “You can’t smoke in here,” I say. Stupid. Childish. Like a little kid tattling. So much for the witty.
    He snaps the lighter closed. “I don’t smoke.”
    “What’s your name, anyway?” I ask, changing the subject.
    “Astor.”
    “Astor what?”
    He cocks his head to the side. “Did I stumble into a game of twenty questions?”
    I suddenly feel silly. I don’t even know why I’m talking to him. Because Claire pushed me over? “So London, huh?” I say, taking a gulp of OJ. “Did you just move back?”
    “Few months ago.”
    “You’re in college?” I ask.
    He looks at me, takes a swig of one of the drinks that have just been set down. “Not right now.”
    “Right. Because right now you’re here at this bar. I get it.” I shake my head.
    He laughs. “That’s not what I mean. I’m not going right now.”
    “Okay,” I say, bringing my glass up to my lips.
    He peers at me. “Surprised?”
    I shrug. “Not really. A little unusual, I guess, for someone like you.”
    A smile cracks along his face. Like a knife carving a pumpkin. “Someone like me?”
    “Come on,” I say. “You know what I mean.”
    He nods. “I do indeed.” He sets his drink down. “So you think I’m wild?”
    “No,” I say.
    “Adventurous?” he tries. He angles his body so it’s facing me, and flicks the straw out of my drink onto the counter. For some reason it makes me self-conscious. I run my pinky down the side of my glass, scooping up a bead of condensation.
    “I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t know you. But I get it, I think.”
    “Not many people do.”
    I look up at him. “I’m not most people.”
    He holds my gaze for a moment, and something passes between us. Something you can’t see, just feel. Then he laughs and the mood lightens. “Noted.”
    “So,” I say. “What are you doing now?”
    “Like tonight?” He winks at me and runs a hand through his hair. I can’t help but notice his fingers—long and lean, like him. He has a leather bracelet on his wrist, with a tiny silver clasp. “I get that college is what I’m supposed to be doing, but it’s not for me. Not now, anyway. I kind of have a different way of looking at the future.”
    “Oh yeah?”
    He smiles. “Yeah. Here.” He hands me my drink. I take it.
    “So what’s your take?” I ask.
    He turns and leans against the bar. “It’s just never seemed as certain to me as it has to other people.” He takes another sip. Stops. “Like