by A. M. Hudson
My attention fell back to the grass of the oval, with the hot sun bearing down on me, when I heard the word David. “Huh?”
“Yeah, you and David Knight. Everyone’s talking about it—they’re saying you practically fornicated in the corridor, today.” Sam looked at me for confirmation.
I shook my head. “Nope. Nothing going on there. You must’ve heard wrong.”
“Nothing going on…yet?” He grinned.
I chuckled quietly. “Yet.”
“Hey, Ara?” he said as we reached the driveway.
“Yes, Sam?”
“When we get in, can you peel me one of those apple snakes I saw you do the other day?”
“You saw that?”
He nodded.
“Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll even teach you how to do them.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Thanks, short-stuff.” He wrapped his arm over my shoulder as we jumped the creaky bottom step and ran to the top of the porch.
Another Daughtry one? I scribbled the song title down on the scrap of paper sitting on top of my homework, then looked out at the endless, fading blue sky. So far, Dad’s project on myths, Mr. B’s assignment on Playwright’s, and the list of numbers I’m supposed to work out for Math has not been touched. Instead, I have a ten-song list of cry-your-eyes-out-over-not-being-loved tunes for my “David playlist”.
I just can’t get it out of my head—the way he walked off. I mean, was it so offensive that I threw myself at him in front of hundreds of other people? Like, I can tell him—or let him think I’m telling him—I don’t like him, and he’ll stay beside me the whole day, but indicate my less than honourable feelings for him and he plays Houdini, disappearing from school for the rest of the day. How does he even get away with that? What would his mum and dad say? Mine would tear me to pieces.
I wrote another song down then threw my pen at the top of my desk and huffed, folding my arms. The only thing I’m achieving here is a gigantic song list. But another great why-doesn’t-he-love-me song came on, so I grabbed my pen again and added it to the list, then dropped my head, with a thud, onto my desk. What am I doing? This is getting me nowhere. I’m never gonna get my homework done at this rate.
The blue bird on my window chirped and I looked up to see the vibrant remains of the day staring back at me. I need to get out of here. I need to get away from my stereo and stop thinking about this boy. But, he said he likes me! How can he say that and then run off when I show my feelings.
Oh, God. I covered my mouth. What if he doesn’t like me the way I like him, and now he’s worried about how to break it to me. He might’ve meant I like you as in a friend.
I slapped my brow and fell on my hands against the desk. I’m such an idiot.
“That’s it!” My chair screeched as I jerked away from my desk. No more attempting homework for today. My nails are stinging down to the quick; I’m getting out of here.
I changed my clothes, grabbed my blue, nylon-string guitar and headed outside to the oak tree.
The ropes squeaked as I rocked softly back and forth on the swing—using the wind as therapy to cool the choking tension of my embarrassing eat-the-cute-guy-in-the-corridor display.
My soft, light-blue dress swayed around my knees with the graceful breeze, which brought the diluted fragrance of frangipanis from the neighbour’s garden. Now, that is a scent worth taking a breath for. I feel better already.
Each time the swing came back down to the earth for a second before freeing me into the air, the old oak tree creaked, and yellowing leaves rained to the ground around me. Looks like I might finally be getting too big for this swing—or maybe the tree’s just getting old.
With a dizzying sway in my head from the movement, I sank my toes into the cool, slightly moist soil and reached down to grab my guitar. The reflection of the stranger I see in my mirror glared back at me from the glossy surface; I ran my fingers over her pretty face then gently along the strings, making a dull, tuneless song out of them as my memory travelled back to the first time I saw this guitar. It had been on display in the window of the music store, and I had fallen in love with it immediately.
It’s funny, really; love at first sight—how uncomplicated it can be with an inanimate object, yet, when it comes to a boy, you’ll fall all over yourself trying to hide your true feelings. Well, unless you’re me. Then you just fall all over yourself—or stumble…into cute guys…in the hallway…at school. I dropped my head into my hand. Oh, man, I’m so awkward. I can’t believe I did that.
Blowing out my humiliation—again—I squared my shoulders and twisted the pegs on the neck of the guitar, then strummed a soft A minor. Ah, bliss. I love this chord. I don’t know why. It might be because it’s the first chord my mum played on this when she bought it for me.
With the rope of the swing between my arm and the neck of the guitar, I started swinging again, slowly, and hummed one of the songs from my new David playlist. But, after one verse, my fingers stopped dead on the strings. This isn’t helping.
“Please, don’t stop on my account.”
I know that voice. “David?” I smelled his sweet scent before I felt him behind me—standing close—then, his fingers appeared beside my temples, wrapped around the ropes of the swing. “Where did you come from?” I squinted against the glare of the afternoon sun as I looked up at him.
He smiled and nodded toward the low-lying hedge fence.
“Oh,” I said, looking away as the memory of his face—the look of horror when he realised in the corridor today that I like him—came flooding back, bringing a cloud of tension with it.
David pushed the ropes of the swing, and I lifted my feet off the ground as I floated melodiously back and forth. “I’m sorry I left you—at school,” he said softly. “It isn’t like me to do that.”
He’s apologising? I should be the one saying sorry. I’m the one who pummelled him, rendering him useless for the rest of the day. “David, look, I need to talk to you about that—” I stopped the motion of the swing with my feet and placed my guitar on the grass.
David settled onto the ground in front of my legs, with one hand propping him up against the lawn and the other wrapped over his knee. “I’m listening,” his voice rose in question.
“It’s just that…” I like you! I like you and want you to like me so bad it kills me! It. Kills. Me!
His eyes searched mine for a moment; I looked away, feeling naked and exposed.
“Ara? Look at me,” he asked softly. I swallowed my shame and lifted my gaze to see one corner of David’s lip turn up into a sexy, dimple-showing grin. “I guess there’s not really any need to keep pretending—to keep following protocols?”
“Protocols?” What does he mean by that? My ponytail tickled the back of my neck as I shook my head. I wasn’t aware we were following any protocols.
“You know what I mean.” His eyes seemed to hold uncertainty.
“No. Actually, I don’t. Please, fill me in.” This is really confusing. If he’s talking about the way I looked at him today, then what does that have to do with protocols?
“I know you like me, Ara. You don’t have to pretend, just because you think it’s improper to fall for someone at first sight.” His eyes lit up, shimmering green like a glass marble held up to the sun. “I can see that you feel the same way I do.”
Oh, my God! Is this the point where I can jump off the swing and fall into his waiting arms? No. Don’t do that. Don’t read into it too much. I looked away from his gleaming, white-toothed grin, and clutched the ropes of the swing tighter.
“Do you have any idea what you did to me today?” David edged a little closer. My head moved in a silent no, while my eyes dodged his. “Ara, when you looked at me that way—with those stunning, soulful, blue eyes of yours—you tunnelled right into me. You reached a part of me that has never been touched. Ever. I almost fell into a thousand pieces on the floor. I—”He looked away as my eyes met his. “I knew, fr
om that moment on, you were mine.”
All the oxygen drained from my limbs.
“Ara?” David paused, frowning at me. “You’re supposed to breathe.”
Right. Air. Good idea. The daylight remained, though all around me, night seemed to enclose my world—tunnelling my vision to the only thing in the universe worth looking at.
David so cautiously and so slowly reached his hand out and rested his fingertips just on the tops of mine. My heart forgot how to beat and the tunnel of black swallowed me whole. The world could’ve turned to ash and the pain of death could’ve burned my limbs, but I wouldn’t have felt a thing, because David consumed every fibre of my being with only the feel of his warm touch.
As his eyes scanned the tilt of my brow, I looked down at his fingertips—long, thin and smooth—and so very hesitantly touching mine. My skin tingled above the rushing blood in my hand, and I nodded at him—to do it.
Hold my hand.
David’s cheeks lifted with a soft grin as he slipped his hand into mine and pulled me down gently to the grass in front of him. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
My head moved again, I’m not sure which way, and my lips went numb from lack of oxygen as our eyes locked so intensely to each other’s that if we were any nearer, the colours would’ve blended together. I smoothed my thumb over his, taking in the satiny touch of his skin.
Four days. That’s all it took. Four days, and I am completely lost in the cloud-like cover of infatuation. That’s what this has to be. How could it be love, so soon?
David swallowed and looked down at our hands. Somehow, they fit so perfectly together—our intertwined fingers—like they were created only for this purpose. I am the lock, and he is the only key. How can this not be love?
No, I was wrong, before. I’m sure now, as plain as the thumping in my chest and the ache I feel in my heart, that I recognise its all-consuming air and ever-constant presence in my veins—this is it! This is love.
David brushed my ponytail over my shoulder, and the softness of his touch against my neck made me shiver. Behind me, the swing stirred gently in the breeze and the golden glow of the sunset surrounded the sky in a blanket of soft pink and purple clouds.
My body stayed frozen in time. I will never be able to move again.
“Why are you shaking your head?” I asked David.
He looked up from his stare at my lips. “You wanna know something, Ara-Rose?”
“Only if I’m going to like what you have to say.”
His serious eyes warmed and a wide smile lifted his dark-pink lips. “I am crazy about you.”
The soft arms of sanctuary caught me as I landed on my back with my arms stretched out to my sides and the biggest best-day-ever grin across my lips. He’s crazy about me. He…he’s crazy about me! I can’t believe it. I’m so in love.
I sat up on my elbows and looked around my dark room. Well, I think I’m in love. He didn’t say love—is it wrong for me to say that just yet?
With a loud groan, I flopped back down. I’m always a step ahead of everyone else, emotionally. Like, they say friends; I say I hold hands. They say like; I say love. They say love; I’m already planning the damn wedding.
What is wrong with me? I’m going to scare that poor guy off if I don’t stop this. I just wish I had control. I wish I could tell him how I feel and not have to be afraid he’ll get scared and push me away. I mean, I so badly wanted to kiss him this afternoon. Why didn’t I just kiss him?
I know why. It’s because if I did that and he even accidently turned his head at the moment my breath touched his, I’d have wanted to run onto the road in front of a passing car. I can’t take much more humiliation. I’m starting to think it’s my oxygen, like, maybe I can’t live without it. But really, a few more cases of embarrassment and it’ll turn into Kryptonite.
A wave of exhaustion crept underneath my skin and made my eyelids droop. I don’t wanna fall asleep yet. I’m still in my clothes and I haven’t come to any conclusions about what this boy feels for me. “New you were mine” and “Crazy about you” don’t really leave much for a girl to read into. Then again, they leave way too much for a girl to read into. Then there’s the issue of… My eyelids fell closed. The issue of…
Chapter Seven
Sam burst through the front door. “Ara, David’s waiting for you across the road.”
Leaving my breakfast on the table, I grabbed my bag and bolted out of the house. I really like this boy—if it’s food versus David, there’s no consideration. I can’t believe he meets me every day, and I get a blissful two-minute walk with only him.
The thing is, I don’t know how it’ll be, today. I mean, after holding hands last night, are we together now or do things just go on like they did before? Nothing’s really been established, and I don’t have the how-to-handle-boys manual in my back pocket this morning. I shrugged. I’ll just wing it—see what David does.
Outside, the morning sun cast the spotlight on his perfection, making the gold tones in his hair shine like a halo. I wanted to stop walking and just stand still—gawking at him for a while. But he looked different than yesterday. His mysterious green eyes held a smile in the corners, but the depth of focus in them, when added with his thinly pressed lips, made him look almost uneasy. “Hi David.”
He took my backpack and threw it over his shoulder, then started walking, without saying a word and without the usual smile. My brow twitched, contorting into a frown. Why isn’t he talking? Did I do something wrong? Maybe he feels awkward about what happened yesterday—or regretful—like he’d been caught up in the heat of the moment and wishes he hadn’t led me on.
Okay, I have to remind myself that it was nothing more than a pleasant conversation on the grass as the sun went down. Sometimes my imagination can get the better of me and things can blow into a huge bubble of over-reaction. He never kissed me and he never admitted his love for me.
I need to take an emotional step backward.
Maybe I should’ve caught a ride to school with my dad this morning.
David, visible through my peripheral, pinched the bridge of his nose and lowered his head, silently cursing under his breath. What the hell is his deal?
Oh, no. Internally, I covered my mouth as my heart dropped. No—this is bad. I have that tight ache in my gut, like a football’s being pumped up inside my stomach. I just know, any minute now, David’s going to ask me to forget about what happened between us last night and use the ‘F’ word…friends. If he does, I won’t be able to help it; I’ll either cry or throw up all over his shiny black shoes.
I risked a glance up at him. His soft brown hair lifted off his face a little in the morning breeze, and the football rose into my chest. What reason would he have for not talking to me? He didn’t even say hello.
In the silence, I watched the other students file into the school, and smirked at the wobbly pyramid of cheerleaders across the football field.
“You’re very quiet this morning?” David smiled, but the strange, distant focus remained in his eyes.
Me? I’m quiet? “I’m sorry.” I forced a smile. “Guess I have a lot on my mind.” At least that part’s true. David, with his cryptic affection, has my head spinning. How one minute he’s looking at me as if he’s never laid eyes on me before, and the next, he acts like I have a disease and runs away or just flat out doesn’t speak to me.
Now I feel silly about all this love at first sight stuff.
With all that aside, I’m still trying to bring up the courage to let anyone into my life enough that I can talk to them—open up to them, since apparently, talking about the things that keep you awake at night has some magical ability to make you feel better. Sounds silly to me. I planned to take my dark secret to my grave.
But, Mike wasn’t joking when he said he’d tell someone for me if I didn’t. He’s done it before, so I wouldn’t put it past him to do it again, and I don’t want my friends to think I don’t trust them—because that’s not it a
t all. I just…I’m having trouble deciding which friend I want to be all deep-and-meaningful with. Which friend I’m willing to risk losing.
“Is it something I can help with?” David asked after a moment.
Oh, right. We were having a conversation. He walks so quietly. It’s easy to get lost in my own thoughts for a while beside David. That’s one of the things I like about him; he has this way of being so still and wordless that my mind is free to wander the rocky terrain of reflection. It’s enough for me to just exist in his company, even if I may be far from his thoughts—though he’s the star of mine. “Well—” I paused. What am I going to say, though? No, you can’t help. I want you to, but I’m afraid you’ll judge me for my actions—even though I’ve learned from them at a great cost, and I’m trying to change, trying to be someone different, but when you find out, you’ll hate me? I can’t say that.
We reached the steps and both slowed simultaneously. When I stole a glance at David, his eyes narrowed as if in concentration—deep concentration. I guess he forgot I was talking. He smiled at me just as I looked away; it wasn’t a deliberate aversion, but when I looked back, his eyes flooded with confusion.
As we walked up the steps, I watched Emily and Alana at the top, talking casually as if they’d been friends their whole lives. Emily told me she only talked to Alana for the first time on the day I came to the school. They don’t really match, as friends. Alana is so plain and almost gothic—she’s smart and reads books by indie authors, whereas, Emily is so colourful; she always looks fresh and happy, or is it…overexcited? She must drink coffee every morning—lots of coffee. Mind you, that doesn’t work for me. But despite originating from different ends of the galaxy, they seem to fit on exactly the same page.
David sighed heavily as we closed the gap between them and us.
“Hi guys.” I waved.
“Hey.” Emily smiled.
