Suddenly Falling: Suddenly Us, #1

By Lauren Brown

Clare Thompson
Imagine that perfect, movie-worthy moment when your eyes meet those of a handsome stranger across the room and you just know you're meant to be together. Got it? Great. Now imagine the complete opposite. That's how I met Oliver Brooks, tears and all. But that didn't scare him away. Oh, no. We clicked instantly, but I'm not looking for love, no matter what that little voice in my head or my nosey roommate say.

Oliver Brooks
I've seen a lot of beautiful women since I started playing with Suddenly Us. But there's something about the woman in the front row one night that keeps pulling my focus from the music. And after she cries through the end of our show, I give in to my fascination and try to cheer her up. I don't expect to ever hear from her again. But then I do. I haven't been able to stop thinking about her and as I get to know her, it becomes clear that I likely never will.

Suddenly Falling is the first book in the Suddenly Us series of interconnected standalones. Each book can be read on its own but the series is best read in order to understand each character's full story. Make sure to read the author's note (available on my website) before starting the book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ink & Imagination
• Release date: Sep 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215861950

Lauren Brown

Lauren Brown is a writer and journalist from Billingham, Teesside in north east England. She studied English at Cambridge and now lives in London with her partner. She’s written for publications including the Guardian, the Independent, Index on Censorship, Vice, and Women’s Health UK. She can be found on Twitter as @Laurenrbrown95

Book preview

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Copyright © 2022 by Lauren Brown and Ink & Imagination

Cover design by Jillian Liota of Blue Moon Creative Studio.

Playlist graphic created using elements from Vecteezy.com.

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Content Note

The heroine of this story lives with anxiety. It is a big part of who she is. As such, this story does contain two on-page panic attacks (ch 17 and 23). In the time before this story starts, our heroine lost her mother and tried to handle her grief through heavy partying. The story of that time in her life is told as the lead-up to a discussion of an attempted assault during her time in college (in the past, not by any character present during the book’s timeline, and not discussed graphically). The rest of the story can be understood without all of the details of that story so if you would like to skip that section, skip chapter 18.

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This is for all the little girls out there who love to read and dream of seeing their own name on a book cover one day. I was once you and, someday, you will be me. Never stop dreaming.

Contents

1. Clare

2. Oliver

3. Clare

4. Oliver

5. Oliver

6. Clare

7. Oliver

8. Clare

9. Clare

10. Oliver

11. Clare

12. Oliver

13. Clare

14. Oliver

15. Clare

16. Oliver

17. Clare

18. Oliver

19. Clare

20. Clare

21. Oliver

22. Oliver

23. Clare

24. Oliver

25. Clare

26. Oliver

Clare (One month later)

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Clare

♫ Princess by FLETCHER ♫

I stop despite the misty rain and look up at the lights of the Portland venue’s small marquee brightening the night. Each ray refracting off the moisture in the air gives the darkening city streets an air of magic. Then again, that could just be the anticipation buzzing through my veins. I still can’t quite explain why, but the moment Suddenly Us announced they’d be performing in Portland the night before my birthday, it just felt like I was meant to be here. I’ve never really believed in fate, but this is the closest I’ve come to feeling it at work.

I shiver as the wind picks up and pushes through my thin jacket and the feeling pulls me back to the moment. I take one more moment to study the words high above me, Suddenly Us introduces the If This is a Dream tour. I pull my phone from my pocket to get my ticket ready and I’m startled when I see the time. There are only a few more minutes until the show is supposed to start, so I hurry inside.

The drive from Florence had taken so much longer than I’d planned, and I’d had to skip dinner to make sure I got to the venue in time. I’ve been waiting months for this concert. There was no way I was going to risk being even close to late tonight, even if it means seriously overpaying for so-so food at the venue.

I make my way inside and down the stairs to the event space, show my ticket, and follow a server to my table. The room is small, so I’d made sure to purchase my ticket the second they were available to get the best seat possible. But even with all my research, I had no idea how close I would be to the stage. But as I settle into my seat, I feel another rush of excitement when I realize I’m close enough to use the stage as my table if I wanted to. My already soaring euphoria level skyrockets and after placing an order for dinner– ice cream totally qualifies as a meal, thank you very much– I settle in for what I can already tell is going to be an unforgettable night.

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I look around the small venue again, trying to take in every detail I can so I can remember tonight perfectly once it’s over. The rapt looks on the faces of my fellow audience members, the fairy lights and fake candles strewn around the stage, the guitar playing softly as the singers take a moment’s break between songs. 

That guitar, okay, okay, the guy playing it. He’s one of several backup musicians I’ve seen before in the background of photos and videos from early Suddenly Us concerts, but I don’t know his name. He may just be an accompanist and occasional backup vocalist, but I’ve been catching his gaze throughout the show. I can’t seem to help it; my eyes just keep drifting his way no matter how much I try to focus on the singers. I swear they have a mind of their own. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

I wrench my focus back to the front of the stage as one half of the band’s founding duo, Charlotte, introduces the next song.

This is a new song; y’all are actually some of the first people to hear it outside the band. My skin tingles at that, the anticipation making me sit up straighter in my seat. It’s a very personal song for me, but I think it’s one that, unfortunately, a lot of people can relate to. This song is my love letter to myself and to anyone else that has been made to feel less than, that they’re an inconvenience, or unworthy of love and care. I’ve been there before and I see you. 

I can feel tears welling in my eyes as she speaks. I know that feeling all too well, and I shudder slightly as my brain conjures images of those that have hurt me the most. I shut my eyes tightly, willing the tears to stay put and trying to banish the flashbacks I feel threatening to take me out of this moment.

I know how easy it can be to let those hurtful words sink in and replace the wonderful things you should believe about yourself, she continues. I know how easy it is to let them break down your walls until you feel broken too. But you are not broken; the wounds you carry are not simple battle scars, they are badges of honor representing everything you survived to be who you are today. They are what made you into the beautiful, strong fighters that have encouraged me through everything I’ve endured to get to this point in my career.

I take a deep breath and hold it in. It feels like she’s been inside my head and has just shared my story instead of her own. I want so badly to believe what she’s saying, to believe that the cutting words I’ve let take over my internal soundtrack don’t have to define me, to believe that I’m not as broken as I feel. The weight of it all, of the pressure I’m already putting on myself to take her message to heart, is starting to feel suffocating. 

But then a series of soft notes begins to float from the guitar upstage drawing my eyes back to the musician at the edge of the spotlight. His eyes are closed as he sways along with the movements of his fingers across the strings, totally lost in the music. I wish I could hear what he’s thinking at this moment. Has his mind just gone blank to make room for the music? Is that speech spinning around his mind the way it is mine? Or is he simply trying to decide what drink he wants to start with once the show’s over?

The song begins to pick up and as Charlotte starts to sing, the guitarist opens his eyes, and they immediately meet mine, not roaming the crowd at all. I’m transfixed by his unblinking stare. His eyes, which I think are blue but are masked somewhat by the stage lights, pierce me, and while I don’t want to look away, it’s almost too much to take. I break the connection and look down at where my hands rest in my lap. Small wet spots dot my dress, and it’s only as another drop lands on the back of my hand that I realize the tears I’d been fighting have made their escape.

I stretch the sleeve of my sweater over my hand and wipe away the wetness covering my cheeks. A futile action, I realize, as another round of silent tears slips free a moment later.

I do my best to clear my vision and focus on the singers at the front of the stage so as not to miss the lyrics swirling hauntingly around me. Each word echoes through my heart before sinking into my memory and dredging up all the moments in my past that I’ve fought every day to forget. I give up fighting as tears flow freely now and silent sobs wrack my body. I cover my face in my hands even though I know everyone around me has already seen me crying. There is little I hate in this world as much as crying in public. If only blocking out these memories was as easy as shutting my eyes tight. 

I don’t know how long I sit there crying and listening to the words to the song, but I finally force myself to look back at the stage when it sounds as though they’re coming to the end of it. I watch Charlotte for a moment before being pulled back to the guitarist. His expression is serious a moment before shifting into a slight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He stares at me as I once again wipe the moisture from my cheeks, and that’s when he really throws me for a loop. As he plays the last chords of the song, he stares at me intently and mouths five short words that cut straight to my heart. 

You will be okay soon.

His statement steals my breath for a moment before I let out a small but genuine chuckle. This man doesn’t know me, doesn’t know the past I try to forget that’s fought its way out tonight. I bet he just feels bad for the poor girl sobbing in the front row. Maybe he’s one of those guys that are so uncomfortable with a woman’s tears that they’d do or say anything to make them stop. But as I look back to him as the next song begins, the raw, earnest look in his eyes makes me second guess those conclusions. 

This song is one I know, my favorite for days when I need a bit of upbeat encouragement. I lose myself in the beat for a moment, swaying along with my eyes closed. I take a few deep breaths, wipe my tears away one last time, and try to let this feeling sink in and take over the whirlwind of emotions the last song elicited.

I open them again and smile as I watch Charlotte dance and sway around the front of the stage while her partner, Alex, plays the piano, both clearly lost in the same calm this song always makes me feel. I’m pulled from my reverie as the stage lights reflect off the guitar and into my field of vision. Not surprisingly, he’s staring at me again. Only this time, he’s singing along instead of just playing. His focused gaze makes it feel like he’s singing the words just for me, like he wants me to believe them, like he wants them to cheer me up.

I smile, more genuinely this time, at that thought. It warms my heart that a total stranger would see me upset and care enough to do what little he could to try and make me feel better. I was definitely wrong about him earlier. At least I hope I’m right about him now. Wait, where did that come from? Why should I care about what kind of person he is? I don’t know him, and I probably never will. I should just be grateful for his kind gesture, even if it’s entirely out of the norm for him. 

The song ends, pulling my attention back to Charlotte as she expresses her thanks to the audience and she and Alex take their bows. She gestures back to the guitarist, who stands up and nods his head in our direction before stepping further out of the lights and walking quickly offstage. She takes one more bow before she and Alex follow. I carefully move to stand as the crowd around me cheers and applauds. I take a deep breath, looking to the ground to locate my bag so I can make a quick exit, when I see movement on stage in the corner of my vision. They’ve come back for an encore.

I slowly retake my seat and force myself to look only at the front of the stage. I’d thought I was done dealing with the handsome guitarist, and I don’t think I have it in me to continue feeling seen that way. 

This last song is a short one, and as soon as they leave the stage again, I reach down and grab my bag. I can feel the emotional toll of the night catching up to me, and I know there will be more tears soon. I’d rather make it to my car before they escape and not have to continue avoiding the gazes of my fellow audience members that make me feel like I’ve gone insane.

I gently push through the small crowd towards the stairs leading up and out of the event room. Almost no one is joining me in my quick escape, and I’m grateful for that. I’ve made it up the stairs and almost across the venue’s small lobby to the front door when I hear someone call out.

Miss, wait!

I stop and look around slowly. There’s no one else upstairs, but in the quiet of this level, I can hear footsteps racing up the stairs behind me. I wait a moment as they grow closer, and before long, a familiar face pops up from below, the guitarist. I almost turn to leave and pretend I hadn’t heard him, but before I can, he spots me and his eyes light up.

Hold on, he huffs. I have something for you.

For me? I ask, my voice barely above a whisper as I turn to face him fully.

Yeah, I thought you might want this. He holds out a brightly colored piece of paper, and I stare down at it between us. I see it’s a handwritten setlist for the show, signed by Charlotte and Alex. 

Oh wow, I whisper, struggling to find my voice and reaching for the paper slowly. That’s really nice of you.

Yeah, well, I noticed how, uh, into the show you were, and I wanted you to have something to remember tonight by.

I want to wrap the paper in my arms and clutch it to my heart, but I know that would crush the still pristine sheet.

I don’t think I’ll have a hard time remembering tonight, I chuckle, still staring at the paper instead of meeting his eyes.

Oh yeah, I guess that’s probably true, he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

But I still really appreciate this, thank you, I rush to get out, afraid I’d hurt his feelings.

"And I also wanted to say that if you ever need anyone to talk about… whatever,