by A. M. Hudson
“So, when you said you didn’t know he was my dad, that day after History class?”
“I lied.” David’s smile slipped away. “He asked me to keep it from you that I even knew your name.”
“Yes! You said Ara-Rose—in the library, on the first day I met you, but no one here knew that was my name until after History class. You sneaky little thing.” I pointed at him. “Well, at least now I know you were only joking about my dad giving boring lectures, right? You were just being funny?”
He nodded, pressing a grin between his lips, then it dropped. He focused on my eyes and took only my fingertips in his delicate grasp. “I’m sorry I deceived you. I meant no ill intent.”
“It wouldn’t matter what you did wrong, David. I’m incapable of being mad at you. Well, for long anyway.” I smiled, drawing my shoulder up to my ear. “I’m glad you talked to my dad. If you hadn’t been so forward in your behaviour, I would never’ve talked to you, and I would’ve wished every day that I could.”
“Not possible. I would’ve seen you eventually. When I did, it would only have been a matter of time until you were mine—if that.” He slowly brought his hand up to my face and rested it against the side of my neck. “Once I’ve made my mind up about something, I don’t usually stop until I follow it through.”
“Does that mean you’ve made your mind up about me?”
He blinked softly and the smile returned to his eyes—where it belongs. “What do you think?”
Feeling the rise of awkwardness threatening to turn my cheeks pink, I wriggled my toes against the moist, kind of sticky grass—warming already from the summer sun. But as I looked down at my feet, blood rushed into my cheeks, and my hands flew up to cover my chest. I’m still in my pyjamas! The outfit I chose this morning before I dusted my room is still hanging over my desk chair. My new boyfriend has just seen my pink cotton shorts and the pale-blue singlet top I slept in—and I’m not even wearing a bra.
David studied my nightwear and grinned. “You’re adorable.” When his arms circled my waist and he lifted me off the ground, I let myself fall into him, closing my eyes as my face touched the silky-smooth curve of his neck. We spun around a few times before he placed my feet back on the earth and brushed my hair over my shoulder. “You know, I—”
“Ara-Rose!” a high-pitched and rather cross voice called from behind. Vicki stood on the back porch, her hand on her hip and a tea towel still clutched in her fingers. “Get some clothes on, please.” She shook her head as she turned away.
“Yes, Vic-er-mum,” I yelled back, then rolled my eyes.
David smiled as I grabbed his hand. “She’s just being protective.”
“No, she’s just being annoying. Come on.” I pulled him along. “I’ll show you my room.”
“What’s this one?” David called out.
“What’s what one?” I called back from my wardrobe.
“The playlist called ‘Mike’?”
How rude. He’s snooping through my iPod. “Oh, it’s just all the music that makes me think of him, and the fun we had. You know— that kind of thing.” I shrugged and shimmied out of my bed-shorts.
“Should I be worried? There’s no David list?”
“Not yet.” I smiled to myself. “After a few weeks, maybe.” Should I tell him I do have a David list, but it’s just on my computer? I threw on my emerald green dress—the one that’s the same colour as David’s eyes—and stepped back around the corner, smiling at my amazingly cute boyfriend.
He looked up and his mouth fell open. “Ara, that colour is beautiful on you. It really brings out the pinks in your skin.”
I flattened the front of my dress, then blinked a few extra times when I looked up—straight into the chest of David. I didn’t even see him move. Before my eyes managed to focus on him, they closed again when he ran the back of his finger over my cheekbone. “Emerald green,” I muttered, getting lost in the way the tingle of his touch made my teeth feel numb. “It’s one of my new favourite colours.”
“One of? What’s your favourite, then?”
“Yellow.”
“Yellow? Any reason for that?” He kept his furled fingers against my face.
“It’s a happy colour. The colour of the sun.” I opened my eyes. “I just refuse to think everything in life has to be all dark and gloomy all the time. So, I like yellow,” I said. “What about you? What’s your favourite colour?”
He stared at me for a moment and smiled as he looked down at my mouth, then back into my eyes—catching them in a breathless hold. “Sapphire.”
“Why sapphire?”
“Because, since I met you—” he brushed his thumb over the bone above my eye, “—I’ve seen nothing but magic in the world. You might say that sapphire represents the blue of a brighter horizon, and it’s a colour I see every time my heart skips a beat—” his eyes narrowed with his smile, “—every time I look into your eyes.”
My lips parted but refused to form words. In this small space between us, it would be so easy to just lean forward and touch my lips to his. But what would he do? Would he turn his head away, would he kiss me back for a second and then regret it?
The warm sun heated the room around us, and the tranquil hum of the weekend filled the air, but he stayed motionless as a lion stalking his prey, until a loud rumbling disturbed the peace.
“I know that sound.” David broke our immoveable stare and looked down at my belly. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”
I shook my head. “No, I was just happy messing about in here by myself. I didn’t really feel up to conversation with the parental units.”
“That’s all very well, but the belly is more important.”
“You know me too well, already.” I took David’s hand and pulled him along.
“You have no idea,” he said, closing my door behind us.
Vicki made us breakfast and sat with us while we ate. David, who insisted on helping, was promptly put on coffee duty. I’m thinking about asking him to meet me here in the mornings before school so I can have a coffee like that every day.
After we finished, we stalked back upstairs to my room—leaving the door open, as Vicki requested—and both flopped down on my bed. With my head against David’s stomach, and my feet dangling off the side of my bed, I listened to the soft rising and falling of David’s chest with each breath.
Does life get any better than this? “Your hands are so warm, today,” I whispered, sliding my fingers into his palm.
He tightened his grip around them and laughed, a short, breathy laugh. “It’s strange, you know—you have the coldest hands I have ever touched. I’m usually the cold one.”
“Well, you know what they say?” I smiled. “Cold hands, warm heart.”
“What if you have no heart?” David asked.
“Then you’d have very cold hands—since you’d be dead.”
David breathed out, but I heard the smile under his breath.
We talked softly over a few albums worth of music while the summer breeze swept through my window, circling the fragrance of my vanilla body wash, fresh cut grass and the sharp, spicy scent of David’s powdery cologne.
It’s so easy to be with David. He asked me a lot about Australia, and we sat for about half an hour comparing the differences in words from the two countries, like lift and elevator, and Mom versus Mum.
“And the food here is different, too, as in the portions,” I said. “I’ve never been so happy in all my life. Your large fries are the equivalent to our family sized.” I patted my belly. “The green ogre’s started raising his demands. I’m gonna get fat soon.”
David squeezed my hand. “You would still be beautiful, even if you were too big to touch your toes.”
“Gross.” I winced, but it made me smile. “That’s the sweetest thing any guy has ever said to me.” In a really strange way.
He went quiet for a second, shaking his head. “I don’t think you get it, Ara.”
“Get what?”
He stayed quiet, so I rolled onto my belly and rested my elbows against his chest. “Get what, David?”
With his lips pressed together, he smiled, studying my face. “Never mind. So—what’s your favourite genre of film?” he asked as if he’d never made that maddeningly cryptical comment.
The air huffed out of my lungs. Never mind? I mind! I want him to finish that sentence. What don’t I get? All that comment’s going to do is leave me worrying about or over-thinking it later. Deliberately, I slumped myself a little too heavily onto my back and rested against his chest again. “So, favourite genre of film? I guess—it used to be action. The nineteen-eighties kind. But, now—”
“Now?” David led when my silence lasted too long.
“Now, I like comedies. You know, it’s like,” I huffed a breath out through my nose, “I’m always so unhappy. If I can find something that makes me laugh and forget about my life for a while, then that’s what I like to do. So, comedies.” My shoulders lifted once.
“What kind of comedies? Stand-up, action—?”
“Romantic.” I smoothed my fingertips over David’s ribs. “What about you?”
“Horror,” he stated without delay, then cupped his hand over mine—stopping it from lifting his shirt.
“Really? Why? They’re so—icky.” I pretended to rub goose bumps off my arms.
“Not for me. I love a good, scary horror. I have this thing for blood—and guts and fear—can’t get enough of it.”
Well, I never assumed that one. I just can’t believe my ears. Sweet, kind, David? Likes blood—and gore? It just doesn’t fit. I rolled onto my belly again to study his face. “Really?”
He just smiled and placed his hand under my shoulder blade, making me feel so grounded and so real with the weight of his touch. What is it about him that can come across as so harmless, when all I’ve heard are stories about his bullying antics, and now he tells me he likes horror? I don’t know. All I know is that, even if he does like to watch people get ripped apart and splattered all over the screen, it doesn’t change who he is—not to me.
When I fell back into my own head, David’s stunned stare at my face drew a smirk to my lips. “Did I disappear again? I do that. How long was I out for this time?”
“Long enough.” His brows pinched in the middle and his dark green eyes radiated a mix of curiosity and what I thought might be—sorrow.
“So, what about your favourite sport?” A lighter topic might be in order. I don’t want to know what my thoughts just displayed on my face and he probably doesn’t want to tell me.
“Well, that’s easy. Hockey.” He flashed a cheesy grin. “What about you?”
I shook my head. “I like dancing, but as for actual sports, I was never interested. It was a taboo subject in my house—much to Mike’s disgust.”
David cleared his throat and shifted a little, crossing his ankles over where they dangled off the end of my bed. “I’m guessing he spent a lot of time there?”
“Yep. Every day. He was a permanent fixture—just another piece of furniture. His mum and my mum were really close.”
“You and Mike were, too?”
“Yeah. We were. I mean, we are, but we’re just so far apart right now.”
“Do you think things will be the same as before when he comes to see you?”
“I hope so. He’s always been a constant thing in my life. It’s been really hard without him.” I crossed my hands over on David’s chest and rested my chin on them, losing myself to thought for a second before a smile expanded my lips. “He’s kind of like a favourite pillow, you know, you can cry into it, it keeps you warm and comfy, and it’s always there.”
“But you don’t sleep with it?” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but I know he was also really curious. Everyone is.
“No, David. It’s not that kind of pillow,” I said slowly, then added with a cheeky grin, “It’s a couch pillow. Mike’s just a couch pillow. But this one—” my face rested onto his shirt again, and I listened to the sound of his ultra-quiet breathing, “this is my new favourite pillow.”
David nodded, then brushed his lips across my knuckles. “I’m sorry. I wish the circumstances that brought you to me had been different. But I am very glad you came here.” He touched my cheek until our eyes met. “I’m sure when you see Mike in a few weeks you’ll fall back into step with each other straight away.”
“Yeah, probably.” I shrugged and then curiosity itched. “So? What about your family? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
David made little circles over my arm with his fingertip—seeming hesitant. “I have a brother. A twin.”
“Really? A twin? Wow.” I sat up next to David’s hips, crossing my legs under me. This is too interesting for a lie-down conversation. “Are you identical?”
“Yes. We look the same, but we’re very different.”
“Well, I gathered that. Why doesn’t he go to school with us?”
“He chose a different path—stayed with my uncle, in New York.”
“So, who do you live with, then? Are your parents still together?”
“My mother passed away when I was a baby and my father followed not long after.”
“Oh, David.” I covered my mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.” He nodded and rested his arm behind his head.
“So, you grew up with your uncle?”
“Well, I was raised by my aunt, and when she passed away, my uncle took my brother and I into his care.”
“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you’d suffered a lot of grief. I feel bad, like I’m making a big deal out of my problems, but you—”
“Don’t say that.” He pushed himself up on his elbow and took my hand. “You have every right to ‘make a big deal,’ Ara. You just lost your mum. My grief, my loss, it all happened a very long time ago.”
“Can’t be that long ago. You’re only a teenager.” I frowned, half laughing at the way he brushes off his own grief—just like I do.
He smiled and looked down at our hands, then took a deep breath. “I’m older than I look. The things that have happened to me in life have made me older—given me wisdom beyond my years.” He laid back down and spoke through a breathy smile, “Sometimes I feel like I’m over a hundred years old.”
“So, do you see your uncle much, I mean, since you moved away?”
“Uncle Arthur and I are members of a council, so we see each other every week—or at least talk on the phone.”
“What about your brother?”
“Jason?” David’s cheek flinched. “Not so much. We’ve kind of grown apart.”
“Why?”
“He uh—”he eyed Vicki as she passed my bedroom door, “he and I had a falling out a while back. Things are…neutral, now.”
“Neutral?”
“Mm,” he muttered and sat up. “I’m just waiting for him to find out about you.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No,” he said in short. “I mean, I don’t think so, but—” he took my hand and waited until Vicki passed my room—again. “How ‘bout we get out of here for the day, go to the lake?”
A smile spread across my lips—a real smile. “Sounds great.”
“Okay.” David nodded and helped me to stand. “Do you have a picnic basket?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
He leaned in and pecked my cheek. “Go get it. I’ll run to the store and get some supplies.”
Chapter Ten
Drawing a deep lungful of the woodsy leather smell, I smiled. Dad’s car smells nothing like this, and though the upholstery of David’s car is sticky and uncomfortable under my legs in the summer heat, it seems to retain the aged scent of experience—a bit like riding in the car with my grandpa, which makes it emotionally comforting.
But this time, as weird as it sounds, I actually feel safe riding in his car. Even with my dad, I still haven’t been able to go for a drive without white-knuckling it the whol
e way, and don’t even get me started on the whole wrong side of the road thing. But I barely notice that with David.
With heavy weekend traffic, the trip out to the lake seemed to take longer. David, only half paying attention to the road, watched me sort through the CDs in his glove compartment. Most of the music would belong better in my dad’s collection, but a tickle of elation perked me up at the sight of familiar cover-art. “I think I might’ve heard of these guys.” I held up the disk. At last, one musical interest in common.
David smiled. “I have that album on my iPod. I’ll bring it with us when we get to the lake—play it to you.”
“Okay. Do…do you like them? I mean, I know you have a CD, but, like, what’s your favourite one of their songs?”
David’s chest puffed out with a deep breath and he looked at the CD. I held it up so he could see the back. “Off that album…Overcome.”
I nodded, scanning the song titles. “Why that one?”
“It has a nice melody—I like the piano.”
“Oh.” I considered the cover for a second, then left it in my lap. “Hey…David?” As I looked up at him, a knot of hesitation tightened my throat.
He tore his eyes away from the road and they locked to mine for a breathless second as I freaked out—imagining him veering off the road. “David! Watch the road!”
“It’s okay, Ara. You are more than safe in the car with me.” He reached across and pried my fingers from their grip on the leather seat. “I have extensive driver training. My uncle even forced me to take one of those stunt-driving courses once. I know how to handle myself on the road.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re incapable of having an accident,” I scolded. “Besides, it’s not just your driving I’m worried about.”
“Would it make you feel better if I told you I’ve never had an accident?” He grinned, raising his eyebrows.
“No.” I stole my hand back.
“Okay. I’ll keep that in mind. No more eye contact when driving. Deal?” he said with a breathy laugh, shaking his head.