I swiftly go over the instructions, and once I’m confident enough, I pee on the stick, flush the toilet, and wash my hands.
I take a seat on the edge of the bath and start a mental countdown. With every second I count, I’m trying to ease my beating heart. It’s doing somersaults in my chest.
Once I feel it’s time, I take a deep breath, rise up and check the test. All my breath leaves my body when I see the results. Tears prick my eyes and start to roll down my cheeks.
And that’s when it happens.
Bang, bang, bang!
“Ray, are you okay in there? You’re starting to worry me.”
In a panic, I wipe away my tears, gather all the shit and shove it underneath some towels before opening the door. When I do, he looks over my shoulder before his eyes land back on me. “Are you okay?”
He looks concerned as he closes the distance between us and cups my chin. I nod my head. “I’m fine.”
He searches my eyes before saying, “You don’t look fine. In fact, you look like you’ve been crying. Are you sick?”
Knowing he’s just going to get suspicious otherwise, I nod my head. “I do feel a little unwell.”
He kisses me gently on the forehead before grabbing my hand. “Come lie down in our bed and have a rest.” I follow him into our room and quickly take off my trainers before slipping into bed. Once he places the duvet on top of me, he leans forward kissing my head. “I’ll give you an hour and then fix you some soup, okay?” I nod my head and he smiles. “Love you, sweetheart,” he says, before bopping my nose and leaving the room.
Once I know he’s out of earshot, I cry and cry until there’s no more tears left. I cry until I’m so worn out that I end up falling asleep.
When I wake it’s to the smell of tomato soup. I open my eyes and that’s when I see it. The pregnancy test on the bedside table.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Panicked, I pull myself up from the bed and immediately start crying again. “I thought you’d be upset or angry with me,” I say, knowing that it’s half true.
“Upset?” he bellows. “Angry? How can I be upset or angry?” I gaze up towards his face and see that he’s beaming from ear to ear. “I’m far from it, Ray. This is the best fucking news I’ve ever heard!” He pulls me in for a hug, laughter radiating around the room. “I’m going to be a dad. Do you know how fucking thrilled I am?” He pulls away, the happy question written all over his face.
He must be because Liam never swears.
“That’s a relief,” I say, dread forming in the pit of my stomach. “I thought you’d be angry.”
Liam looks saddened as he pulls me in for another hug. “I could never be angry at you, Ray. You’re my little ray of sunshine, and now you’re having my baby. Fuck!” he squeezes me in tightly and at first I laugh at his enthusiasm. “Jesus, Ray, you don’t realise just how lucky I feel right now. I’ll be the best dad in the world. Just you wait. I can’t think of anyone more perfect than you to be the mother of my child.”
The mother of his child.
As he continues to hug me, nausea like I've never felt before fills my stomach, and for the first time since I got here, I start to feel claustrophobic. I’m seventeen. Way too young to be a mother.
And all the while that he’s hugging me I have three little words rolling around in my head like an endless tide.
I’m not ready.
I’m not ready.
I’m not ready.
Three days later and I feel like I’m going out of my mind. I miss him. I don’t want to miss him, but I do. Yesterday—feeling down—I left the house and almost turned up outside his door. In fact, I was standing right outside his gate when I remembered the story he told me about Catherine stalking him. I felt stupid, so I turned around and walked the other way. How idiotic would I look after my big speech about keeping our distance only to turn up at his door three days later? And what would have happened? My stomach clenches at the thought. I know what would have happened. I would have ended up in his bed and falling even deeper under his spell.
No matter what I do there’s no easy outcome. I’m miserable without him. I can’t concentrate on simple tasks. In a sense I’m glad I’m off school, but in another sense I’m not. It seems that the only time I can switch my brain off from Easton is when I study or sit and create more bracelets. In fact, I’ve created more than a hundred of them over the course of the last three days because it’s been my only break from constantly thinking about him.
It’s just after lunch, and I’ve done all my school work for the day, so I decide to take a stroll through the park. Today—although cold is sunny. Not a cloud in the sky.
I take a leisurely stroll admiring the birds and smiling at the little squirrels which are running up and down the trees. People are out with their dogs and in a nearby playground kids can be distantly heard screaming, laughing, and playing.
Finding a bench, I decide to take the weight off a little. I’ve already walked a decent eight thousand steps, so a little rest won’t harm.
I sit there for a good ten minutes firstly watching the world go by before checking my phone for messages. Nothing from Easton, but what did I expect? I told him this was the only way we could do things.
“Fancy seeing you here.”
I almost close my eyes at his voice. My God, how I’ve missed that sexy Scottish accent.
With my heart skipping an extra beat, I look up practically beaming my happiness that he’s here. When he spots my smile, he beams one right back at me.
“I didn’t know how you would react when I spoke, but by fuck, am I glad I turned up just now to see that smile you’ve given me. Best feeling in the world.” He sits down next to me, and all the while, I’m still beaming from head to toe. He turns and laughs when he spots me. “I take it you’re pleased to see me?” He arches a cocky eyebrow, but I’m so bloody happy to see him I don’t have it in me to admonish him.
“I could seriously kiss you right now,” I admit.
“You really are pleased to see me.”
“Don’t get cocky now,” I answer back, biting my lip.
This makes him laugh loudly. I missed his laugh. It’s only been three days, but it feels like three months.
Once he stops laughing, he turns to me and says, “Can I let you in on a wee secret?”
I nod. “Of course.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
We both stare and for a moment we can’t take our eyes off of each other. We have a silent conversation. A conversation I know all too well.
We should stay away from each other.
But we can’t.
We shouldn’t be talking to each other right now. It’ll only lead to temptation.
I know, but it pains me too much to stay away.
We could get into trouble.
Couldn’t we just sneak around? Just for a little bit?
Fuck it. Okay.
All those words unspoken, but all were said out loud.
“Do you want to go somewhere?” he finally asks.
Without saying a word, I nod. My mind is still screaming at me to stop this, but as we rise from the bench and start walking to God knows where, the screaming dulls down to a tiny little whisper. A whisper so small that it becomes insignificant hum.
As we begin our walk, he takes my hand. I let him because … who wouldn’t? When I’m with him it’s like entering this alternate universe where only he and I exist. It’s so easy with him. As natural as breathing.
With our smiles wide, I let him guide me out of the park and onto the main road. Families pass us and smile, an elderly lady with a bag of shopping mumbles about prices rising in shops underneath her breath, and kids walk in groups laughing about something they find funny on their phones. Everything’s natural—life going on as it should.
After about five minutes of walking, Easton leads me to a bike shop where he asks the saleslady if I can try on some helmets. I stare dumbfounded at Easton. He
laughs.
“I can’t take you on the bike without a helmet.”
That familiar thrill riddles through me at the thought of being on his bike again. I would want nothing more right now than to sit behind Easton, my arms wrapped around his waist as the breeze hits my cheeks, and the thrum of his bike gently rattling my bones.
The saleslady quickly deciphers after looking at me that I need a small helmet. She offers a few and I try them on, some more expensive than others. I choose the least expensive, because I like that one the best. Plus, it’s pink. A lady can do no wrong with the colour pink.
“You don’t have to get this one just because it’s the cheapest of the lot,” he says, eyeing me suspiciously.
“I’m not,” I answer, but he looks at me like he doesn’t believe me. “Out of all of them, this is my favourite. It’s pink and has pretty wavy patterns on the side. Look,” I say, pointing them out. He starts laughing.
“What is it with girls and their pink?” he asks, but I know he’s teasing.
“Hey, don’t knock the pink, Easton. Even men rock the colour pink. It emboldens them.”
He gazes into my eyes for a moment before smiling and looking up at the saleslady. “Pink it is then.” The saleslady giggles. The kind of giggle that tells me she too has the Easton fever.
When he’s paid, we take the walk back towards the park where his bike is parked at the side of the kerb. “Here,” he says, taking the helmet from me. “Let me put it on you.”
Despite knowing how to do it myself, I hand him the helmet, because hey, what woman wouldn’t pass up on the opportunity to be fussed over and touched by this man?
Once he fastens it, he steps back and looks at me. “Pink totally suits you.”
“I told you,” I tease back.
“It also makes me want to kiss you right now.”
My breath hitches at the thought. It’s only been a few days since I had his lips on mine, but it somehow feels like a lifetime.
“Honesty?” I ask, knowing that’s been our mantra since we met.
“Always,” he answers, smiling.
“I want you to kiss me too.”
He keeps his smile, but then looks around, reminding us of the fact that we’re doing something wrong. My face falls and he notices.
“I hate that I make you feel this way.”
“It’s not you making it this way, Easton. It’s life. It won’t always be like this.”
He nods and then makes his way over to the bike. “I know,” he answers, swinging his leg over. “We just have to be careful till then.”
He starts the bike waiting for me, but the thrill of his words ring through my mind. I know I’m the one who normally puts the barrier between us, but after knowing what it’s like to be without him for a few days I know for a fact I can’t do it again.
Following suit, I swing my leg over the bike and cling onto him as he revs his engine a little. I start to laugh and that’s when he says, “Hold on tight, baby.” I bite my lip hard, trying but failing to suppress my massive smile. I hear the word baby all the time, but when Easton says the word it makes my stomach do summersaults.
We start our journey and as we’re whisking through traffic, overtaking cars, it’s only then I wonder where we’re going. He obviously has a plan, but he hasn’t divulged it yet. It’s only when thirty minutes go by and I realise we’re pulling up into a car park of an art museum that I realise what’s happening.
“I hope you don’t mind me bringing you here?” he asks, taking his helmet off.
I do the same. “Of course not. In fact, I’m actually looking forward to this. I’ve never been to an art museum before.”
“Well today is the day we change all that,” Easton answers, grabbing my hand. “Come on, biker chick, let’s get inside. It’s cold out here.”
We take the many steps leading up to the museum and are immediately greeted by security guards who want to check our bags.
“So sad that we’re now living in a world where security is so tight,” I say, after we’ve been let through.
“My mum always used to tell me of the days when she would be able to leave her door unlocked. Not now. You’re right, it is a shame it has come to this. You must have been a baby when 9/11 happened. I was only a young lad, but I remember that day as if it were yesterday.”
“I know a lot of people say they remember exactly what they were doing when it happened.”
We walk through the main hall hand in hand when he says, “I was at school when it happened. I remember all the teachers running around the halls. Some had shocked faces, some were crying. I thought the world had come to an end. I guess in some respects it had. My mum picked me up earlier from school. A lot of parents did. I think everyone got frightened. Everyone wanted to hold on a little tighter to their loved ones that day. I saw it on the news, repeating the horrors over and over again—and each time it was just as shocking as the last. I wasn’t there, but I will never forget it. For them, I never will.”
I feel a sudden sadness come over me. “For the people who lost their lives.”
Easton doesn’t say anything, just nods. He swallows hard before glancing up at the paintings around the massive hall. His face then changes as he points to one on the wall.
“That one up there is now my personal favourite.”
I look to where his finger is pointing to find a painting of what looks like a man and a woman in an embrace. The woman kneels before the man as he has her embraced in his arms, her face pointing upwards as he cradles her head in his hands. He is coloured in gold, blacks and greys, while she adorns several colours. It certainly eye-catching. Noticing there’s some writing on the wall, I walk closer and see what the painting’s called. I smirk, looking towards Easton who looks like he’s about to laugh.
“The Kiss.” I raise my eyebrow making Easton laugh.
“Yes, ‘The Kiss.’ Rather apt, wouldn’t you say?”
I look back toward the painting and notice that her eyes are closed. She looks so content, completely trusting the man who cradles her in his arms. “It’s beautiful.”
Easton nods. “Yes, it is. This isn’t the real painting, though. The real one is in Vienna.”
“Gustav Klimt,” I say, reading off the wall.
“He’s done several paintings like this, but the one I really want to go and see is The Woman in Gold. I would have to go to New York for that.”
My eyes widen. “Wow, New York, huh? That would be a real treat.”
He nods his head with a smile. “It certainly would.”
We start walking, still hand in hand, looking at several paintings as we do. “When did you realise that you were good at sketching?”
He smirks. “I wouldn’t say good, but I noticed I had a knack for drawing when I was about eight.”
I nudge him. “Hey, don’t put yourself down like that. You are good. I saw that drawing you did of me and I was amazed. You definitely have talent.” He smiles like my observation pleases him, but doesn’t offer anything further than that.
“This one I like too.”
We stop before a painting. “Father and Son,” I observe noticing the two shadow-like figures holding hands. I glance Easton’s way and notice his sad face. “Does it make you think of your dad?” I know I’m prying, but can’t help but ask. We had never touched on his dad before.
“I was only fifteen when he passed. It was the worst day of my life.” I reach out grabbing his hand again with a squeeze. He glances my way and smiles.
“What happened to him?”
He shakes his head. “What always seems to happen to loved ones all too often these days. Cancer. He was a smoker—forty a day. My mum was always on at him to quit, but he never listened. One day he started getting a cough and then after three weeks he still had that same cough. We all told him to go to the doctors but he ignored all of us. Said it would pass after a couple of weeks.”
“But it never did?”
He shakes his head.
“No. It was only after three months that he finally listened to us and went to the doctor. It was so far advanced that he only had months to live.” He sighs. “I hate to admit this, but I hated my dad when I found out. I lashed out at him screaming and crying that he never listened and now he’s dying—that his selfishness took a father away from his family. I broke down—the whole family broke down.”
Not wanting to imagine the pain, but nonetheless seeing that vision in my head brings tears to my eyes. One falls against my cheek and Easton gently wipes it away. “Don’t cry for me, lassie. It was a long time ago.”
I grab his hand on my cheek and kiss it. “I know it was, but he was still your father. He will always be a part of you—no matter how many years pass.”
He leans down kissing me on the lips. It’s only a fraction of a kiss, but my insides still burn at the feel of them on mine. “Thank you,” he whispers before pulling away.
I’m flushed. A hot mess. Knowing I need to compose myself, I tell Easton that I’m going to use the bathroom.
“I’ll be right here,” he says, answering me.
I leave the grand hall and go in search for the bathroom. I manage to find a sign and follow them up the stairs. I use the bathroom and wipe any remaining wetness from my eyes before walking back out. As I’m going down the stairs I realise I have a big smile on my face. Every bit of time spent with Easton I fall just that little bit more. It’s hard not to. Not only is he gorgeous, but he has a heart of gold underneath it all. That in itself is hard to find.
I’m still smiling from ear to ear as I make my way back into the grand hall in search for Easton. I spot him by the same painting, but he has a very troubled look on his face. I frown and it’s only when I hear a voice calling my name that I realise why.
“Sasha, fancy seeing you here.”
All the blood drains from my face as I turn towards the voice. It’s Mrs Caterham. I stop dead, trying my hardest not to look in Easton’s direction. How long has she been here? How much has she seen?
HEADMASTER Page 17
