Falling Into Infinity

  Falling Into Infinity

  By

  Layne Harper

  Falling Into Infinity is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Falling Into Infinity

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 2013 by Layne Harper

  This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or recording without express consent of the author Layne Harper.

  ISBN: 978-0-9893536-0-1 (ebook)

  Cover Design: Michelle Preast

  This book is dedicated to my father-in-law who passed away this year. One of the last days that I spent with him, he checked out my e-reader and saw the romance books that I had loaded on it. He told me to quit reading trash and suggested a few books that he liked (they were all biographies). Even though he would shake his head at Colin and Charlie’s story, he would be very proud of me for finally writing it. Colin drinks a scotch in his honor.

  January, Senior Year

  I TURNED my Porsche Cayenne onto University Drive and headed toward Café Eccel. The new Lady Antebellum song was blaring on the radio. I found myself tapping to the beat on the steering wheel while I sang along to the chorus. I was meeting my best friend and roommate for our last ever first-day-of-class supper.

  Rachael and I started the tradition in the ninth grade. Tonight, we were celebrating our 15th first day of school supper if you count summer school which, of course, we do. We are both seniors at Texas A&M University and will graduate in May.

  Here’s the ritual. We choose a restaurant that serves great desserts. We order our dessert first and share it. Then, if we are still hungry, we order an entrée. So far, we have never needed to see the appetizer menu.

  As the song ended, I parked my car in a good spot near the door. Before I unbuckled my seat belt, I dug my phone out of my purse and sent Rachael a text letting her know that I had arrived. Then, I sent Colin (boyfriend and expensive car purchaser) a quick message letting him know about dinner, and that we would probably need a ride home if he made it to College Station in time. Rach and I tend to drink one too many glasses of wine at our first day of class suppers. Since we’re both graduating in four months, this is our last one. Knowing the two of us, we’ll need my chauffer.

  Before I could put my phone back in my Louis Vuitton purse, I received a text from Colin (boyfriend, expensive car purchaser, and ridiculous purse giver).

  Colin: Absolutely! I would like nothing more than to drunk cab you and Rach back to our apartment. I should be in College Station in about an hour. I’ll let you work off the fare.

  Me: It’s my apartment that I am letting you crash in, and I’m sure that you can think of some way for me to pay you back. Love you.

  Colin: ;-) Love you, too.

  The waitress showed me to a table in the corner and handed me a menu. I began drooling over the dessert descriptions just as Rachael rushed in excitedly.

  “Charlie, I can’t believe that this is our last supper,” she said with a look of silly giddiness on her face. “We did it, girl. We managed to not get uninvited from Texas A&M.”

  I laughed at her joke. We were both graduating with near perfect GPAs. There wasn’t a chance of us getting kicked out, but I guess graduating from college is an accomplishment nonetheless.

  “I am so proud of us, but I’m a little sad that this is our last first day of classes supper. Do you think we can make a pact to meet every year for at least one of these dinners?” I didn’t want to be a downer, but I had a feeling that I was going to depend on Rachael’s friendship even more after we graduated than I did now.

  “I’m sure Mr. Quarterback will fly you wherever I am in the world if you flip your caramel colored hair his way,” she half-jokingly replied while rolling her eyes.

  Rachael is an international business major who has been accepted into the Wharton School of Business for her MBA. She is ridiculously beautiful with her platinum blonde hair, bright blue eyes and fair skin that would make Nicole Kidman jealous. She’s got a killer body, and she is fluent in five languages. She could very well become the ruler of the known world.

  “Rachael, stop it. I’ll use my airline miles to come and see you.” This is such a sore spot for me. I wish it wasn’t. My mom has told me time and time again that you can’t help who you fall in love with. It’s her polite way of saying get over the fact that Colin likes to spoil you.

  Just then, the waitress greeted us and asked us for our drink order. We ordered a bottle of red wine and both reached for our driver’s licenses knowing that it would be her next question. Once assured that we really were over twenty-one, she asked if we were ready to order.

  Just like the silly fourteen-year-olds we were when we started this tradition, we both said the dessert that we wanted at the same time. So far, we’ve always said the same thing.

  I said, “Ready, 1-2-3.”

  We both squealed, “Crème Brulee Cheesecake!”

  We laughed with delight that our tradition had made it eight years. The waitress gave us a look of disapproval, and left shaking her head mumbling about our poor dinner choice.

  I wanted to get my uncomfortable conversation with Rachael out of the way before our dessert arrived. Once our wine glasses were filled, and we both had a sip, I said, “How do you feel about Colin staying with us on and off for the next three months? He has some time off before he has to be back in Dallas. He offered to get an apartment in our complex, but I hate to see him waste the money.”

  She rolled her eyes at me and said, “Charlie, you know that I like Colin. It’s fine. I’ll tell him to pick up my part of the rent and bills and he’s welcome,” she teased.

  I gave her a friendly kick under the table. We both knew that Colin would find a way to pay more than his share.

  Soon our very yummy dessert arrived.

  We indulged ourselves the rest of the evening by eating too much dessert and drinking too much wine. We laughed until our sides hurt. I missed spending alone time with Rachael. She was always with Aiden, her boyfriend, and I have been busy with school and traveling every weekend for Colin’s career. I sincerely hoped that we would keep in touch even after we stopped living together.

  Around nine o’clock, the waitress gave us a dirty look so I asked for our bill. We were informed that it had been taken care of by a gentleman at the bar. I let out a sigh knowing exactly who had picked up our tab.

  Colin McKinney. His name is a statement, and in College Station, Texas he’s a god. I guess Dallas also has him on a godlike pedestal because he’d led them to their first football playoff win in a long time. He’s the starting quarterback for Dallas. He’s six feet five inches of sculpted muscle with wavy light brown/dirty blonde hair depending on the amount of time that he spends in the sun. His eyes are the clearest green with just a few flecks of yellow. His half smile makes women swoon. The man has blogs and Facebook pages dedicated to his appearance. The strangest part about it is that he is crazy in love with me and completely oblivious to all the hot models and actresses that he could be banging. I’ve given him plenty of outs in our relationship. I all but begged him to dump me when he was drafted to Dallas. I told him that he needed to be single and free. How did he respond? He asked me to marry him. I replied with, “Not today.” This has been our inside joke since we began dating. Every day, he asks me to marry him, and he always gets the same answer “Not today.” One day, he is going to wake up and realize that future doctors and starting quarterbacks will never last. Until then, I relish the fact tha
t the smart girl, who wasn’t a cheerleader in high school, has landed the quarterback.

  I started calling him my mission statement or statement for short when we began dating. He’s like a company’s mission statement. Colin McKinney was the complete package… charismatic, great looking, incredible athlete, funny, charming, loyal, and he has the biggest heart of anyone. Even when he’s not feeling well or in a bad mood, he signs autographs and talks to his fans. The downside to the mission statement is that he is one of the most well-known men in the country.

  His face lit up when he saw me. “Charlie, are you and Rachael letting strange men buy you dinner again?”

  I threw my arms around his neck, and he gave me a big kiss. It had been a week since I had last seen him. I glanced around to see everyone in the restaurant looking at us. “We only let really hot guys buy us dinner,” I teased. “You shouldn’t have.”

  We’ve been together for two years, and he still gives me butterflies. His level of devotion to me can be overwhelming at times. I mean, I am a great girl and all, but he tells me often that I am the perfect woman. I worry that one day he would open his eyes and see that I am far, far from perfect.

  I grabbed his hand and led him to our table. He stole a chair from a nearby table and sat down so close to me that our legs were touching. He grabbed my hand as soon as he was situated. There was no doubt to any of the fifty or so people in the restaurant that I belonged to him.

  “Colin, I was just about to text you to come drunk cab us home. We just have a little bit left in our bottle,” I explained trying to turn so I could see his face, but he wouldn’t let any air in between us.

  “How many bottles is this, ladies?” he asked, giving us a raised eyebrow.

  Rachael and I looked at each other, and she sheepishly replied, “Two.”

  “Not bad. I see that you have shown restraint,” he teased us pulling me closer to him.

  It took exactly two minutes for one of his fans to engage him in a conversation about football. I wished that we could go out in public just once without being interrupted. Colin is great. He signs autographs and talks to everyone. Seriously, we’ve had grocery shopping trips that lasted two hours because he was so mobbed. I’ve been known to leave him in public. I don’t have the patience to stand there while people gush over him. My favorite, though, is when women hand me their phones and ask me to take a picture of the two of them together. He always smiles apologetically at me, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.

  I turned to Rachael and finished our conversation, completely ignoring the restaurant patrons that were now surrounding us. This is part of the baggage that comes with my statement, Colin McKinney.

  When our wine was gone I was ready to take back the Mission Statement. So, I did what any twenty-one-year-old girlfriend to the hottest man on the planet who is obsessed with her safety does. I grabbed my $3,500 purse, keys to my $85,000 car, my best friend, and threatened to drive home. Attention was now successfully diverted back to me.

  He jumped to his feet and chased after us while I giggled to myself and Rachael gave me a dirty look. She whispered to me, “Part of the package.”

  I was rewarded by Colin lightly hitting my behind. “You know better than to mess with me.” He pulled me to him and wrapped his long arm around me and kissed me on my head. I love when he does this. It makes me feel special.

  So here is the deal. I drive the ridiculously over the top car that he said I had to have to keep me safe. He, on the other hand, still drives the biggest, ugliest truck on the road. I nicknamed it Big Bertha. It’s a fifteen-year-old diesel dually truck that I need a stepladder to get into. I hate it. It stinks. The amount of pollution that it puts in the atmosphere is enough to kill the ozone layer. He teases me that Bertha is his soul mate. Every time she breaks, I secretly hope that he can’t repair her. Unfortunately, he is now richer than Scrooge McDuck so he keeps pouring more money into her.

  “We’ll leave Bertha here and take your car, Charlie,” he said as he took the keys out of my hand.

  I smiled sweetly at him and batted my eyelashes. “I sure hope no one steals Big Bertha.”

  He flashed me his patented Colin McKinney half-smile and smirked at my sarcasm as he climbed into the driver’s seat of the Porsche.

  “This is a great car, Charlie,” he said while the Porsche automatically adjusted to driver number two.

  Buying this car was hell. Before, I had a ten-year-old Honda that my dad had given me. It was in bad shape. As soon as Colin was drafted, the endorsement deals came rolling in. Colin took one of the first checks that he received and dragged me to every car dealership in Dallas insisting that if I was going to be running the roads between Dallas and College Station that I was going to have a safe car. He had me drive every SUV on the market. Then, we went back to his fortress in the sky of an apartment while he researched the safety statistics. I didn’t argue with him that I needed a new car. However, I just about had a heart attack when the next morning, he announced that I was getting the Porsche Cayenne. I pleaded with him that there were perfectly good choices for me that were priced under $30,000. I tried reasoning with him that I would look like a gold digger if I let him drop $85,000 on a car for me. He, of course, didn’t care what anyone thought. I almost had him talked into the Ford when I reasoned that the Porsche would make me a target for carjackers. His face grew pale, and he pulled me into his arms. He went back to the computer to see what he could find about the rate of theft.

  Then, to my horror, the Porsche salesman said that they would throw in free roadside assistance as long as I owned the car and some sort of GPS location system. Colin was so pleased with himself. “See Charlie, I am buying you the safest car on the road. What color would you like?”

  He put the car in my name to further drive home the fact that the car was mine. I’ve learned that there are times that I can fight him and there are times that I have to ride out the storm that is Colin McKinney. The car has been one of many storms.

  Our drive home from dinner was uneventful. As usual, Rachael and I got a case of the giggles. Being happy drunk with your best friend is fun!

  Colin and I headed up to the apartment while Rach went and checked the mail.

  Rachael and I live in the oldest apartment complex in College Station. It’s not particularly nice, but there is nothing wrong with it. It’s cheap, on the Aggie bus line, across the street from the mall, and electricity is included in the rent. That means that even in the heart of August, we can still keep the air conditioner on 70 degrees (I know that this is bad for the environment. However, THIS IS TEXAS!)

  The big advantage to this complex is that the apartments are huge. Our place is over 1,000 square feet. We each have our own big bedroom, walk-in closet and own bathroom inside our bedroom. For a girl who shared a room and closet with her sister her whole life and one bathroom with three other sisters, this place is a palace. We just pretend that the mismatched avocado green and harvest yellow appliances are retro and will be back in style any day now.

  Rachael’s parents were not particularly pleased with our choice of address. Her mom insisted that we look at the high rise private dorms that have sprung up around the perimeter of campus. They were out of my pay scale, and they came with a maid service. Ummm… I have been doing my own laundry and cleaning up after myself since the fateful day mom discovered that Aunt/Step-Mom Carmen (Daddy’s head nurse) was pregnant with Daddy’s fifth daughter. I can use a Laundromat.

  Fortunately, Rachael’s parents decided that our apartment would teach her character.

  Colin stopped by the kitchen and fixed me a glass of water while I changed into my sleep uniform which was Colin’s boxer shorts and a tank top. Just as I was about to put my toothbrush in my mouth, Rachael yelled that I had mail. I nearly killed myself to intercept it before Colin saw it. I was waiting on acceptance letters to medical school. I’d had to apply before we knew what team would draft Colin so I had applications in to schools all over the count
ry. The thought had been that I would go to medical school in whatever city drafted Colin. We would get married. He’d play football while I went to medical school. We’d purchase a McMansion, have 2.5 children and adopt a dog from the animal shelter.

  I walked into the living room. “Oh God!” I gasped to myself. There was a thick letter from Harvard lying on the counter. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” I cussed. Thick letters only mean one thing. I’d gotten in.

  I was hoping that I wouldn’t be accepted. Harvard is the number one school in the world. No one turns down Harvard. I mentally yelled at myself, Why did you have to apply? I should be doing back flips and excitedly calling my family, but I knew that now I actually had to decide which medical school to attend.

  My heart began to race, and I broke out into a cold sweat. I’d been blessed with the hottest, nicest, most perfect boyfriend in the world and all he asks of me is to marry him, come to football games every Sunday and pursue my dream of becoming a doctor while he pays for it and showered me with mind blowing sex, unconditional love, and support. Yet, there I stood contemplating going to Harvard and breaking his heart.

  I’m such a horrible person for not walking over to the garbage can and tossing the letter in. Instead, I shoved the letter in a drawer. I needed to read it when the Statement wasn’t waiting to give me his undivided attention.

  I walked back into my room. He immediately noticed that something was wrong. “Hey baby,” he said. “Is everything okay?”

  He had already unpacked his duffle bags and made room in my walk-in closet for his clothes. That made my heart beat even faster. I loved to be with him, but seeing his personal things in my closet made me feel claustrophobic. I mentally gave myself a pep talk. This is Colin, Charlie. You are going to marry him one day. The least that you can do is share a closet with him for a few months.