Sure, I'll meet up with you tomorrow. 2pm ok?
It couldn't have been better.
*********
I eagerly skipped through the daisy-scattered park, which was strangely peaceful for an afternoon, and my lip gloss and Tic Tac-filled handbag bumped against my hips as I moved to an imaginary rhythm, beyond thrilled that I was going to rendez-vous with Luke, who may have become my new and first male friend. A tell-tale sign of change.
After receiving his approving message, I replied back with a suggestion to congress at the Rollers Cafe, which I'd previously mentioned to him, and he was more than willing to oblige with my offer. Gosh, I was learning more about boys than I ever thought I would, destroying the need to complete my mundane lot of history homework just yet.
My feet, having crossed this path around a thousand times in the past, took me to my destination without a single hitch (I'd grown so used to taking this short-cut to school that I could walk there with my black mascara-coated eyes closed) and the aroma of the special of the day - a traditional British Victoria sponge, that tempted me to lick my lips with hunger - put me in an even greater mood, truly looking forward to my hanging out with Luke.
"Sadie, over here!" a recognizable yelled, as a gangly arm shot up the air, waving in my direction.
Making my way quickly through a crowd of middle-aged friends, I followed the persistent wave - an ache would've been definite by the amount of time it had been stuck up in the air - until my eyes focused on Luke's welcome face, who was sitting at a two-seated table, and obviously awaiting my arrival.
"Hi," I said, as I pulled my seat open and bounced down, placing my handbag at my feet. "How you're doin?"
Luke laughed. "Hey, there's no need to start using slang expressions with me - I liked you the way you were before."
A blush burst into a colourful form and I smiled, appreciative of his generous compliment. "Sure, I'll talk like a normal, non-frazzled person. Anyway," I said, "how was your trip here?"
Luke grimaced, a chill shaking his muscular form. "An utter nightmare from the start to end," he groaned, a frown replacing his happy smile. "I only woke up around two hours ago, leaving me with around half an hour to get ready before the bus arrived."
I wrinkled my nose, amazed by his response. "So, you woke up at midday?" I asked.
Luke nodded. "Yeah, it's become a habit recently."
Normally, whenever the holidays rolled around, I would use it as an ideal excuse to lie in bed almost all morning, hiding underneath the duvet to avoid the blinding sunlight resting on me, giving a sharp nudge to get out of bed and do something useful. Recently, though, it had been the complete opposite: I'd become an early riser, crawling outside of my room by 8am, in search of the half-empty box of Cheerios that Cassie regularly left lying around in the kitchen.
Deciding to not mention my alien-to-a-sleep-deprived-teenager habits, I encouraged Luke to continue with his story, where he told me about the bus getting stuck in an avoidable traffic jam due to taking the wrong route.
"...And I so can't wait until I'm old enough to drive," Luke finished.
"Me too," I agreed.
A young, barely-out-of-school barista, whose angelic golden hair shone as brightly as diamonds dazzling in the sunlight, glided over to our table, carrying a vivid magenta notepad and pink feathered pen in her hand, waiting for our orders to be placed.
Having asked for two cans of Coke and a calorific slice of devilish chocolate cake (my non-existent trips to the swimming pool were much-needed if my excessive consumption of cake at cafes were to continue), the girl - she couldn't barely be classified as a woman because her sweet-as-candy grin echoed a childlike innocence - went back to the counter and prepared our order, audibly humming a song playing on the nearby radio.
"So, do you have any brothers or sisters?" I wondered, without a second thought, suddenly becoming aware of a tense, embarrassed silence.
Luke shook his head. "Nah, I'm only an only kid - not bad because a little sister or brother would've been nagging me to play on my Xbox by now," he jokingly smirked.
Of course. Literally all the boys I knew were glued to their much-beloved Xbox, which, as many had openly and proudly stated, would save within an instant if their house was the centre of a raging fire. I was half-tempted to roll my eyes in the manner of a I-don't-understand' way, but continued listening to Luke, thoroughly interested in his following words.
"Sometimes, when I'm not doing anything and well, I'm kinda bored, I think about what it could've been like if..." he paused, unable to finish his sentence. So I ended it for him.
"If you had a brother or sister?" I suggested, my tone soft and understanding.
Luke nodded. "Yeah, I guess that everybody is prone to thinking about it from time to time; all of my mates are usually complaining about their siblings and are always saying how envious they are of me, but in all honesty I sort of envy them."
If the floral-scarfed barista hadn't turned up at that moment, holding two cans of Coke and a plate smothered with crumbs of chocolate heaven, I wouldn't have been able to hold back my gasp for any longer. Because I'd grown up with no elder or even a younger, immature brother, I'd had no experience with boys' emotions, as hard-as-nails Dad would rather go without Sky Sports for the whole of the football season than be seen wiping away a tear or revealing his deepest, most emotive feelings, leaving me in the chilling dark about how it felt to be living inside the mind of a boy. Until Luke offered me that possibly one-time-only preview.
Awkwardly popping the lid off the can, I took a refreshing, ice-cool sip of the refrigerated drink - the iconic flavours burst on my taste buds, instantly craving more - and I must've drunk at least half the can before I remembered to respond to Luke, who looked as though he was nervously sitting on the edge of his seat, his lonely can still untouched.
"Although I can't exactly relate because I've already got a sister, I can imagine how I would feel if I was in your position," I confessed, slowly. "At times, when I've been irritated or have had a needless argument, I wish that I didn't have a sister - I'm constantly complaining about her snatching my make-up or nagging at me to finish my homework -"
A grin replacing the weary, out-of-place frown on his sunny-as-Ibiza face, Luke lamely disguised his visible smirk, forcing my blood to boil.
"Hey, I was saying something really important to you -" I started, then Luke cut me off for the second time. Boys.
"Sorry," Luke gasped, in between contagious outbursts of unstoppable chuckles. "I j-just couldn't believe that your little sister was ordering you to finish your homework - isn't she, like, twelve or something?"
I pursed my lips, ignoring the excruciating heat flaring the tips of my ruddy ears. "Thirteen," I corrected, matter-of-factly.
"Oh." Eventually catching on to the fact that I definitely wasn't a happy-go-lucky bunny, Luke returned to his eager-to-hear manner, some of the playful twinkle shining his hazel eyes disappearing.
"Um, where was I? Somewhere around my sister talking about homework" - if I'd stated 'nag', I was almost 100% certain that Luke would explode as loudly as a display of Chinese fireworks onto the coffee-stained floor, rolling up with laughter - "but anyway I'd be begging to be an only child one minute, then the next I'd feel really guilty and selfish about myself because, when my sister isn't getting on my nerves or being reluctant to give my clothes back, she can be utterly kind, generous and down-to-earth."
"She isn't on reality TV, is she?" Luke muttered, idly coughing.
When my trademark, busy-as-the-Amazon-rainforest eyebrows lifted into the air as a sign of not understanding what planet he was on, Luke explained.
"I meant that most reality TV stars are walking in the clouds, far away from the earth," he said, with a slightly ashamed expression. "Sorry, I was flicking through one of those channels the other night and I was amazed by what I saw - but not in a good way."
I laughed, spreading its gracious warmth to Luke, who chuckled also. "Yeah, I thi
nk that everybody is guilty of doing that every now and then," I said, closing my eyes as I relaxingly placed the first mouthful of delectable cake in my wide-open mouth.
After swallowing the heaven-on-a-plate bite of cake, my eyes flied open to the sight of Luke longingly ogling at my plate, an undeniable hunger glaring behind his pupils. Oh. I'd almost failed to remember that boys liked food - especially cake.
"You want some?" I asked, waving the licked-clean fork in the air.
Judging by his hungry-as-a-starving-cat look, Luke certainly thought so.
"You can always order a slice from the barista at the counter..." I pointed out, but Luke vigorously shook his head in clear disagreement.
"I can't," he truthfully admitted, "because I only bought enough money for the bus and drink; cake wasn't on the menu until I saw the sign outdoors."
Whether it was simply nerves or the underlying power of a chocolate-fuelled rush, the urge to express my amusement nearly proved too compelling. How come that only a few moments before, we'd been having a serious and empowering discussion about siblings - therefore sharing previously hidden feelings and releasing them into the open air - then the next Luke was giving the puppy-eyed look because he jealously envied my cake? I dreamt of throwing my hands in the air - obviously without a pointy fork flexed around my still child-sized fingers - and complaining about the many reasons why I'd never been asked for a date other than in a soggy, grass-stinking forest...
Then I made a huge mistake. Yes, the hugest mistake that I could've made on a first rendez-vous with a boy who I'd first met inside a beef-stenched McDonald's. And there was nothing I could do to repair it.
"In that case, do you want any of mine?" I suggested, gesturing towards my stomach and poorly pretending that it was as bloated as a half-blown balloon. "I doubt that I'm going to finish all of it; why let it go to waste?"
Really. How could a self-admitted, openly frank teenage chocoholic falsely say that they are unable to scoop up every crumb and long for the next scrumptious piece, their Milka-addicted hearts instantly craving more? I was lying to not only Luke, who I ironically pitied for having spent every penny of his pocket money (surely I wasn't the only Hello Kitty-loving teen in the whole of England who was still given £5 by their money-cautious parents each week?), but to myself, who couldn't help my life-long dependence on cocoa.
Even Luke gave me his toned-down version of You-WHAT??? eye roll, then shook his head, obviously trying to put on the nice-guy act before being offered his special treat. Fine, I guessed that I'd have to do it for him.
"Honestly, I don't care," I said, gritting my teeth. "Have some - life is made for sharing."
"Is it? I don't remember hearing it before," Luke muttered.
"Call it a Sadie Thompson original, but have your cake and eat it before I do!"
Dragging the plate across the creaky table with his sharp, catlike nails which reminded me of comic book hero Wolverine's claws (Cassie had bought the X-Men box set on DVD last Christmas, which I'd reluctantly watched with her on a back-to-back marathon on no-more-presents Boxing Day - it wasn't too bad because I'd placed my fascinated eyes on some hot Hollywood stars), Luke hoisted the silver fork lying beside his can of Coke and rackingly dug in, a look of satisfaction smoothing his face and creating a gentle glow. Good to know that digestive-hogging boys appreciated their cakes, too.
"You like it?" I wondered, nudging Luke out of a his second-long cocoa fantasy.
As if he'd suddenly been awaken from a daydream, Luke was startled and his gaze rapidly whizzed around the softly peaceful cafe, finally resting on myself, which made me turn scarlet.
"Yeah, it's great," he grinned, a smudge of chocolate stuck on his canine tooth - or 'vamp fang', as my vampire-obsessed eight year old self referred to it. "I don't know if you've noticed," he continued, "but you blush an awful lot."
Luke didn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure that one out; I'd been caught red-handed. Blushing was a habit that was impossible to break, leading me to avoid wearing poppy-shaded blush at all red-faced costs.
I shrugged. "What can I say? It's a habit of mine which has become a huge part of myself that I doubt that I could live without it."
Luke bowed his head in acknowledgement, then turned his head back towards the plate, which was splattered with gooey, mouth-watering chocolate icing which forced me to lick my lips in delight.
"I must admit, your blushes seem to reveal a lot about what is passing through your mind, which is sometimes impossible to read," Luke noted, whilst indulging on a large-sized bite of cake, impolitely talking with his mouth loaded to the brim.
I was half-tempted to point out that speaking with a mouth swamped in a cocoa mess was rude, as my manner-obsessed mum would've done if she was in my position, but I bit my tongue and anticipated his following words, which my Crayola-pink ears were dying to hear. Was I really difficult to understand? Honestly, I didn't mean to keep an emotionless mask on all the time, nor did I truly want my embarrassing-as-falling-flat-on-my-face blushes to be the only way of revealing my deepest feelings, some of which I preferred to keep on the low.
Once he loudly gulped down his mouthful, Luke said, "From time to time, I'm confused. It's like you're living in another universe, stuck in a world of your own, and I've noticed that when I talk to you, your mind goes into some sort of overdrive which disables you from being able to respond."
"Maybe it's because I'm thinking of a suitable reply?" I proposed, taking a few quick sips of my cooling drink. "The last thing I wish to do is say the wrong thing and cause a massive change in the atmosphere."
"Maybe, maybe not," Luke replied, digesting my reasonable response. "However, I just don't know what it is about you." He breathed a lacklustre sigh, engulfed with wonder and begging-to-be-answered questions. "You seem to think too much, that's all."
And my hopefully mature-as-a-woman response? A hysterical shriek which sent chills of terror down the spines of the Specsavers glass-wearing pensioners seated a few tables away, fearing that a berserk hyena had entered the cafe, in hope of receiving a bottle of Fanta for free. And maybe some ribs drizzled in a tongue-tangling barbecue sauce, too, if on special.
Ugh, blushing and maddening fits of laughter were two displays of emotion that I had to bin straight away; they were totally not working in my favour.
As tears of amusement caused my thick layers of jet black mascara to shamefully streak down my clown-reddened cheeks, I choked back on another emerging fit and, taking note of Luke's stunned-as-though-Wigan-had-won-the-Premier-League expression, replied, "Luke, what do you expect? I'm a woman; women have feelings, so it's necessary to think all the time! I think from the moment I awake to the late hour my mum orders me to go to bed - I get no break from my mind whatsoever!"
Shaking away his somewhat petrified look, Luke questioned, "So, is that how it honestly feels to be female?" though I privately suspected he was already aware of the pending answer.
"Yes!" I squealed, masculinely throwing my clenched hands onto the table, which almost made the half-consumed cake wobble on its fragile white glass plate and leap into the humid, tea-scented air.
Luke looked pleased and relieved at the same time, as though he'd just put together the last pieces of a mind-baffling puzzle and finally completed it. "Tell me," he whispered, his warm-as-apple-pie hands reaching for mine. "What do you feel for me?"
I countered, purposely staying true to my slow-but-steady way of taking my time to reply, which all made sense at the last moment. "I like you as a friend," I smiled, then slowly interjected, "but maybe we could be more."
A radiant light glowing in his genial face, Luke beamed. "Yeah, I think so, too," he murmured, confiding all that my heart instinctively knew at its still-loving core.
Chapter 10
When Luke officially confirmed what each of us secretly sensed, I began to look at him in an entirely different light. OK, I had taken the time to notice how adorable his childhood freckles were - which he
whole-heartedly loathed, as he later confessed - lightly scattered all over his oval-shaped face that shone so brightly in the shimmering afternoon sunshine, and the way his amazing-to-hear words which flew out of his mouth at lightning speed, his lips putting on a model-perfect pout as he emphasize his views on various subjects. And the greatest thing of all? Apart from his never-boring-to-longingly-drawl at looks, Luke didn't remind me of heartbreaker Joel in the slightest, which put my love-struck mind at ease.
For instance, I could forget about the tourist-crammed street I was walking in, along with the humming buzz of chatty and loud crowds, simply by Luke gaining my full attention in a heated discussion regarding shops willingly allowing young, sometimes hyperactive children to be able to purchase lethal energy drinks which were bursting with poisonous amounts of sugar. If I worried that I was taking after my Daily Mail-obsessed parents, at least I wasn't the only one heading in that direction; wisps of fiery smoke would literally be coming out of Luke's ears, the tips of which would usually turn a candy pink shade of a Percy Pig sweet, whenever he hit the nail on the head during feisty talks - an absolute turn-on, in my opinion, though I chose not to let that fact on. Well, not yet, anyway.
Playing With My Heartstrings Page 10
