by A. M. Hudson
“No kidding,” she said.
“Well, I think it’s good to see a girl eating,” Ryan said. “Don’t you, Dave?”
“Yeah.” He looked at me with soft eyes, then linked his fingers through mine under the table. “Means I don’t have to be one of those guys who’s gotta convince his girlfriend to eat. Huh! She’ll probably eat mine t—” he stopped mid-sentence.
Everyone at the table stared at him.
David looked down at his plate, and his lips made a tight line. I’m sure we’re thinking the same thing: Oops, that distinction has not yet been made.
“Girlfriend?” Emily asked me, her brow creasing with curiosity. “So, it’s official?”
I deferred my tension to the milkshake in hand and sipped through the straw. How do I deal with this one? Everyone’s waiting for my response. David sat incredibly still, barely breathing and certainly not speaking, so I nodded, “Yeah, it’s official,” and squeezed his hand.
David exhaled.
I hope it’s okay I said that.
“Hey, that’s really awesome, man. Congrats.” Ryan reached out and they shook hands, punching their knuckles together at the end.
My cheeks and chest flooded with heat, and a pathetic girlie giggle threatened to leap out from my lips. It’s official. It came about in the most unusual way, but as of now, I’m his girlfriend. And that means I’ve just landed the most amazing and sweet guy I’ve ever met.
David Knight is finally mine.
“I knew it,” Emily practically squealed, her eyes alight. “I just knew she’d be the right one for you, David.”
“Well, I have only been waiting for her all my life—she was bound to come along sooner or later.”
Everyone made a cheering-yet-that’s-totally-lame noise at David’s mushy statement. He nodded and wrapped his arm around me. With my forehead pressed against the side of his jaw, and the warmth from under his arm on my shoulder, the sharp, sweet scent of his cologne became so much stronger—a musk scent, like Brut, not the orangey-chocolate one I usually smell. Perhaps he wears two different deodorants.
“Guess that just leaves you, Em?” Ryan said.
Emily leaned on her hand and looked across the room. Then it hit me. She’s a perfect match for Mike. She’s exactly his type—sweet, cute and blonde. Maybe if he falls in love, I can convince him to move to America. “Emily?” I leaned around David. “I have a friend coming over in a few weeks. Mike. He’s really cute? You should meet him?”
“He’s cute, is he?” David raised one brow.
“Actually, yes. He is.”
“When’s he coming? Is he from Australia?” Emily leaned further around, forcing David to sit back a little.
I nodded. “Tell you what? Why don’t you come have a sleepover at mine next Saturday and I’ll show you some pics.”
“Yeah? I’d actually really like that.” She smiled.
“Cool. Alana, you wanna come, too?” I asked, allowing myself to feel the excitement of a normal teenager for a moment.
She looked at Ryan and smiled, shrinking into herself a little more. “Um, yeah, if Emily doesn’t mind?”
“Mind? Of course you should come. Hey, I’ll bring a movie, yeah?”
“Yeah, and I’ll get a pizza,” I added.
“Better make that two,” Ryan joked, “otherwise the girls’ll go hungry.”
“Funny.” I smiled, rolling my eyes.
“Okay, I’ll bring the popcorn,” Alana said, shyly.
“Great. It’s settled then.” And I’m actually excited. Mike will be, too, when I tell him. In fact, this has been a great day. The best ever. In a way, I’m kinda glad my dad so cruelly forced me back to school this week, because I have new friends now and my horrible past is no longer a burden I solely own. But best of all, David likes me enough to want me as his girlfriend. In fact…love. Love is what he said.
I looked sideways at David, flouncing his hands around in the air as he explained the size of the pizza he ate last night. He doesn’t know it yet, and I’m not ready to tell him, but I love him, too.
Not in the way he loves me—like a friend—but real love. The kind of love you hold for someone you want to marry.
The phone rang twice. I waited impatiently, tapping my fingers on the desk.
“Hey Ara,” Mike spoke over a loud, static sound.
“What you doin’?” I asked.
“He’s playing a death-match, online, with me,” another voice said very clearly into the receiver.
“Oh, hey Josh.” I laughed, wincing. Lucky I didn’t just blurt out my news the second Mike picked up.
“Hey Ara. How’s things, what you been up to?” Josh asked, half distracted.
“Well, actually. A lot. That’s why I called,” I said in an eager, soprano voice.
“Hang on,” Mike said. “I’ll just de-link the phone line from the headsets.” I heard a noise, like someone tapping a fingertip on the lid of an empty tin, and a bleep followed, making the slight static in the phone line recede, leaving a clear, quiet hum. “Okay, Ara, I’m alone now. How you doin’, kid?” Mike has a very sexy voice—deep and a little husky, yet kind of flowing.
“Well, actually, I’ve been waiting up all night for you to get home so I could call you. I’ve got good news.”
“I’m listening.”
I paused for dramatic effect. “I’m having a sleepover next weekend.”
“Really?” he dragged the word out.
“No, I was kidding, what’d ‘ya think?”
“Well, that’s great. Are you gonna talk to the girls about what happened—with your mum?”
I shook my head, looking at the reflection of my glittering grin in the window. “Nope. Don’t need to.”
“Ara? Are you telling me that you actually opened up and talked to someone?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Who?” Mike asked. “Was it your dad?”
“No, it was David.” I’m still mad at Dad for telling David about my mum, and I haven’t yet decided if I’m talking to him again.
“Yeah? The guy you like?”
“Yep.”
“Well, come on, fill me in, then?” His voice glided in that husky smoothness that can only be Mike’s.
“Well, it turns out that he already knew.” I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “He spoke to my dad before he even met me.”
“Well, that’s cool. Especially since he still made friends with you—even though you were sure everyone would hate you.”
“I know. I feel a bit strange about having someone know.”
“Why? Ara, does he still like you?” Mike asked, unperturbed.
“Actually, that’s why I’m calling. We made our relationship official tonight,” I beamed.
Mike went quiet. “Ara, what did you do?”
“What? Oh, no, not like that, Mike.” I laughed, waving my hands about.
Mike breathed out loudly. “So, like what, then?”
“As in he said the word girlfriend.” I can’t help but to grin.
“Well, that’s really cool. I’m glad there’s someone lookin’ out for ya.”
Gee, he could’ve sounded happier. “There always has been, Mike. You’re still my bestie.”
“I know, but I’m not there and you sound serious about this guy, Ara. Pretty soon I’ll be old news.”
“Will not,” I said. “Besides, I have a friend you might like.”
“Ara, don’t play matchmaker. I don’t wanna be dealing with girls when I come over. I’m coming to see you, not go on dates. All right?”
“I’m a girl.”
“You know what I mean.”
“She’s blonde. And cute,” I offered, my voice rising in question on the end. “She’s the one I’m having over next weekend for a sleepover. I’m gonna show her some pictures of you.”
“Well—” his voice dragged, “I do like blondes, but not dumb ones.”
“Oh, no, don’t worry, she’s definitely not stupid. But don’t get ahe
ad of yourself, Romeo. She might not even like you. You’re not that good looking.”
“Are you kidding? I’m a hunk.” He laughed.
I smiled. “Yeah, I’d pay that. But it takes more than just good looks to get the girl.”
“Well, how ‘bout my charming personality and witty sense of humour?”
“Might work.”
“Worked on you.”
“Not funny, Mike.”
“Sorry. I take it back. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Whatever. Anyway. You don’t need to worry about me now, okay. I’m doing well. I’m still not fine. But I’m okay. Today.”
“I’m glad, kid. You could use a bit of okay. But—” a long, stretching groan sounded down the phone line;I pictured him straightening his arms out behind his head and rolling his spine, “I’ll be there soon, and then you’ll be all better.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
He laughed for a second, then became all stern, “But, seriously, Ara? Please don’t set me up with this friend of yours? I’m in a difficult place right now when it comes to matters of the heart. I’d rather not drag anyone else into that. Okay?”
“Sure thing.” I know he’ll change his mind when he sees her, though.
While the night had played irrational images of dreams that made no sense, the morning brought a fresh vibrancy that I thought no longer existed. I drew a lungful of crisp, dewy air, and smoothed my hands over the unruffled bedcovers on top of me. I can’t remember the last time I slept that soundly—or woke without being tied into a momentary knot of feathers and cotton.
A flash of a green horse and a floating doorknob—the only remaining memory of last night’s adventures with the Sandman—forced a smile onto my lips. It was good to have normal dreams for a change.
Leaping out of bed with the hint of a skip in my step, I threw open my curtains, pushed my window up, then sank my iPod into its dock and pressed play on the Cleaning-my-room playlist.
The motion of lifting each pile of dirty clothes, strewn shoes and unused pillows stirred dust motes around the room; they rose up from the cream-colour carpet in soft whorls, and swam around in the morning sunlight.
How can today be so perfectly sunny when yesterday, before I cried at school, before the lake and before David and I talked, I felt like my life was one big storm?
The fresh scent of Mr. Warner’s cut grass next door, and the lemony fragrance of Vicki’s bathroom cleaner, mixed with the sound of a vacuum being used down the hall, sent a warm pang of calm through me.
Hm, I think I’m starting to feel normal—a little.
But, a sudden racket of high-pitched yowling instantly shattered that sentiment; I dropped my clothes to the floor and grasped my windowsill as I peeked into the yard. Skittles?
High in the old oak tree, the fat, grey cat swayed from one side to the other, his legs flailing in an attempt to reach his front paw and free it from its fix in the branch.
Is he actually stuck in the tree? “Stupid cat.” I laughed as I burst through my door and ran down the stairs to save him.
“Hey princess.” Dad smiled. “Where’re you running off to in such a hurry?”
“Vicki’s dumb cat’s got itself stuck in the tree,” I said.
“Ara to the rescue, is it?” His voice carried out into the formal lounge room as I pushed the back door open and leaped off the porch, landing on the soft, dewy grass.
I stopped dead in front of the swing. Where’d he go? Okay, that’s weird. Maybe he just fell down and ran away. I spun around a few times. I at least need to make sure he’s okay. “Here, kitty, kitty,” I called. Where is he?
“He’s right here.” David stepped out from behind the tree, with a sassy grin on his lips, holding a very frightened and sorry-looking grey fluff-ball. Skittles’ tail thrashed about in long, snake-like lashes and a low growl hummed in the back of his throat.
“Oh, my knight in shining armour.” I clasped my hands together beside my jaw. “You saved my baby.” I took Skittles from him, then squeezed the tip of the cat’s paw to eject his claws and inspect for blood.
“He’s fine.” David stood beside me, stroking Skittles on the brow. “He’s just a little embarrassed, I think.”
Becoming increasingly peeved-off, the cat tugged at my arm, trying to rise from his cradled position. “Settle down, kitty,” I said, then looked up at David. “So, how did you get to him so fast? I mean, you weren’t here a second ago?”
“I was standing right there when you looked out the window.” He pointed to the sidewalk behind the hedge fence. “I waved. You just didn’t see me.”
“Oh, sorry. Well, I’m glad you got to him before me. The poor thing.” The cat’s attempt to break free won over; I released my hold and watched him bolt over the hedge fence—into the front yard.
A long shadow appeared beside my feet, sending my heart skipping happily into my throat as I faced the tall, dark knight behind me. I can’t believe he’s actually here—as beautiful and glorious as he always is. And the white fitted t-shirt with the dark denim jeans makes him look like a tanned underwear model.
David’s eyes flicked over my face as I angled my chin to look up at him, studying his perfectly symmetrical features with a hint of confusion. How is he so damn good looking? It’s not natural.
He wedged his hands into his pockets, and my gaze travelled up his forearms, to his shoulders, and traced the square line of his jaw, finishing finally on a small knick of blood under his lip. “You—” I pointed to my chin. “I think you cut yourself shaving.”
David’s eyes widened; he quickly drew his hand from his pocket and wiped his thumb across the blood. “Oops.”
“It looks good.” I reached up to cup my hand over the side of his face.
“What does?” He pressed his hands against my hipbones.
“You. Clean-shaven. I like it.”
“So, ah, how are you feeling today?” he asked, clearing his throat. “After everything we talked about yesterday.” He took a step back and dropped his arms to his sides, looking deep into my eyes. It makes my heart shake inside my chest, the way he looks at me sometimes, how one of his glittering green eyes seems to pull on the inner corner, like he’s smiling, and the other is more focused, like he’s trying to figure something out.
“I’m really good. I mean, I still hurt inside, all the time, and I never stop thinking about them, but—” I shrugged.
“It will get easier.” David ducked his head a little so our eyes met in perfect alignment. “You will always think about them, but I can promise you that missing them will get easier.”
“You sound like you speak from experience?” Actually, he might be. All this talk about me, and I hardly know one thing about him.
“Well, I’ve had a lot of loss in my life.” He nodded smoothly and looked away. “But, I find more people to love, and make my life about them.”
As our eyes met again, his warmed with a soft, simple smile.
“If you’d told me that a week ago, I might not’ve believed you. But today?” The suppressed desires in my body took over then, forcing my hand to reach out and stroke my finger over the short side burn just beside his ear. “I’m glad my dad told you, David—about my mum. I think I’ve decided I’m not going to yell at him. I mean, he was just doing what he thought was best for me, right?”
“Right.”
My smile twisted up with a frown and I shook my head. “I just can’t figure out why he gave you the touch-my-daughter-and-you-die speech?”
David pulled his lips into a tight smirk and his eyes narrowed a little as he cleared his throat again.
“That…wasn’t the speech, was it?” I asked slowly.
He shook his head once, and the supressed grin crept up into his eyes.
Assumptions. I’m good at making them, not so good at seeing the truth behind the intuition. I dropped my arms to my sides. Like a cat that just lost its ball to a mouse, I feel cheated. “I told my dad off, y
ou know, for giving you that speech? And worse, he played along. How could you two just conspire against me like that?”
David laughed aloud, tilting his head back so his canines showed. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head, failing to subdue his amusement. “I shouldn’t laugh—you’re just so funny when you get on a heated rant. I love it when you do that—” He pointed to my hands—wedged firmly on my hips; I dropped them.
“So what was my dad saying?”
“He was asking me to keep an eye on you, since I already knew about you, and you had apparently already taken a liking to me.” He grinned and stepped a little closer. “I told him that I had absolutely no intention of letting you out of my sight.”
Humph! “Well, it’s nice to know my dad approves of you, but how did he know I liked you?” Surely I wasn’t that obvious. Then again, he might’ve spoken to Mr. Benson, who all-too-clearly saw my ogling.
“Something about sultanas?” David’s dark brows pulled together and his lips turned up on the corners, setting deeply into the sides of his mouth.
I laughed, thinking of Dad’s earlier mention of the teacher lingo. “So, when he caught you on the oval…stalking me…what did you tell him?”
“Ara, I wasn’t stalking you,” he said impatiently. “I merely spotted a pretty thing in the garden and stopped to watch you swing for a while. Mr. Thompson, I mean, your dad, asked me what I was staring at, and I said you were the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.” David’s eyes glistened then, and his voice lowered to an almost whisper. I looked to one side, hiding my smile and sudden flushing cheeks. “When he said you were his daughter, I apologised for my forward behaviour, and he said it was okay, that I was right, anyway.”
“But everyone at school knows this is my dad’s house—so you must’ve already known I was his daughter.”
David smiled. “Yes. But I wasn’t going to tell him that I’d taken to hanging out on the oval at lunch just so I might catch another glimpse of his pretty daughter.” He laughed once. “He’d have given me detention. So, I played dumb. Then I asked him why you don’t come to school, and…that’s when he told me.”
“So, when you said you didn’t know he was my dad, that day after History class?”