by A. M. Hudson
As he dropped his hand from my cheek, shifting away from me with the weight of a rock on his shoulders, a cool breath lifted my chest in a long, slow gasp, and a strange pull of energy—or maybe warmth—detached from the physical space between us, like hot ribbons had tied us together, and now, had turned to chains of ice.
A spell has been broken.
The cold breath rushed out of my lungs quickly, tightening my throat as it escaped, and the foggy cloud of confusion pushed out through my mind like a bubble bursting from inside my head. As clarity came rushing back, leaving a dull twinge of pain above my eye, I touched my fingertips to the racing pulse between my collarbones. “David? I feel dizzy.”
“It’s okay.” He grabbed my shoulders and rolled me onto his lap, then soothingly stroked my hair from my face.
“What just happened? I feel so sick.” I snuggled my cheek against his denim jeans and closed my eyes as an icy torrent of blood drained all the warmth from my cheeks, and a rush of bile pinched the back of my tongue.
“Come on.” David patted my back and lifted me to sit. “You need to eat. You get dizzy when you’re hungry.”
I forced a smile. Oh, I feel silly, now. “It surprises me sometimes how well you know me.” But that was different, I’m sure of it. That felt more like my soul had been connected to his for a split second. I felt so drawn to him, like I could’ve stayed there forever—died in his arms and have been grateful for that one, close moment. Now it’s gone—that warmth, the breathtaking intensity of our bodies so close to each other—I want it back. I feel like it belonged to me, and now it’s been ripped away.
David shuffled over and leaned his back against the rock while I swallowed every agonising bite of the food he handed me—forcing it down with orange juice because my mouth refused to make saliva. In fact, my body refused to do anything normal—including breathe properly.
“Did you feel that?” I looked up from under my lashes, pinching the edges of a sandwich. “Before—when we were close?”
“Feel what?” He shrugged.
I dropped the sandwich onto the rug and let my mouth hang open. “You big fat liar!”
“I’m not lying.”
“Yes—” I got to my knees, “you are.”
“Okay. Fine. I might know what you’re talking about—but that does not mean I felt it.” He sighed heavily and threw his sandwich into the basket, then sat back against the rock, folding his arms.
“Well, what was that? What was I feeling?”
“Love?” When he pulled one shoulder up to his ear, mine dropped. Real convincing, David. “I don’t know, Ara. What am I, a scientist?”
“You do know, don’t you?” I looked over at the picnic basket. “Did you drug those grapes?”
David laughed. “Ara? Why would I do—”
“Then what was that?” I cut in. “It didn’t feel natural, and I know you know something about it. I saw how you looked at me—” I pointed at him; he shook his head, smiling down at his folded arms. “You felt it, too. I know you did. Now tell me what it was.”
“I’m not going to fight with you,” he said calmly.
“I’m not fighting.”
“Then drop it.”
“No. Don’t you think if I felt a…” I searched my mind for the right word, “a gravitational pull toward you, like my soul just split in two and then,” my nose crinkled and I scrunched an imaginary piece of paper between my palms, “was suddenly forced back together, that if you felt it, too, or if you know why I felt it—you should tell me?”
“Gravitational pull?” His brow rose and he leaned forward a little with his forearm resting over his knee.
Oh, my God. I’m such an idiot. “You didn’t feel that.” How stupid of me. Of course he didn’t. I was in my own little world—just like always.
After rubbing his forehead viciously, he swept his hands through his hair and sat back against the rock again. “Can we drop this? Please?”
I looked down at the ant-covered bread in front of me and blinked back the tears. I feel so stupid.
“Ara.” His voice commanded I look at him; I shook my head. “Ara, please. Look at me.”
“Why?”
“Please?” Reluctantly, I rolled my face upward. His golden smile warmed when he noticed my tear-stained cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” He reached out to me. “You know how I feel about you—”
“Do I?”
“I hope you do.” He dropped his outstretched hand.
“You said you love me, but you don’t prove it.”
“What do you mean?”
“In love, there’s supposed to be trust. Why won’t you ever tell me anything?”
“I tell you lots of things.”
“But not what that feeling was—or if you felt it, too?” I nodded to the place on the rug where we’d been sitting during the…moment.
David sighed and looked away. “What that was has nothing to do with how I—” he clenched his fist in obvious frustration. “You are one of the most stubborn damn girls I’ve ever met.” He looked back at me. “Do you know that?”
I bit my lip and looked down. I shouldn’t have pressed him.
Out of nowhere, David appeared in front of me, gently lifting my face to look at him. “And do you know what else, Ara?”
“No.”
“It’s also one of the most charming things about you.”
A smile escaped through my misery, and I caught the gleaming in David’s eyes as I looked at him, holding it to my memory for when we’re no longer together.
“No more tears, okay?” he said, then tugged my hand until I came to sit beside him against the rock.
“Okay.” I nodded as I nestled the crown of my head under his chin, placing my hand over the cotton shirt that barely contained the coolness of his skin underneath. I’m sure he’s getting colder—he was so warm when we were lying on my bed earlier.
After a deep exhale, his strong arms fell around my shoulders and he squeezed me closer for a second. “Let’s just enjoy the rest of the day. We’ll talk about things another time, all right.”
I nodded, though I didn’t agree. I want him to tell me what he knows, but he won’t, and my head isn’t clear enough to argue with him right now.
But make no mistake, David Knight, I will bug you about it later.
With my head in the lap of the incredibly cute boy that I couldn’t stop staring at on my first day of school, I watched the puffy clouds move across the sky, letting the tickle of sweat from the summer heat roll down my chest and soak into my green cotton dress.
As the day had rolled on, David avoided talking to me about the…moment. Instead, he asked me a lot about home—about my mum and Mike, and didn’t back down until I answered every question. But I found that, somehow, when I spoke to him about home, the good memories, I could do it without wanting to cry. It was like he seemed to form an invisible barrier around me that shrouded me from all the pain—a bulletproof vest in the shape of a boy.
I could just be, with him, and that was nice.
“I don’t know.” David squinted, holding his hand in the air to shadow his brow. “I think it looks more like a bee.”
“No way,” I scoffed, outlining the cloud with my fingertip, “See? Long tail, giant wings. It’s a dragon,” I concluded, tucking my hands into my elbows.
“Okay, you’re right. It’s a bee.” David chuckled; I punched him in the arm—a little lighter than I would Sam.
“Ouch.” He rubbed his chest.
“What are you doing?” I laughed. “I punched you in the arm.”
“Yeah, but it hurt here.” He rested his palm flat over his left rib.
God, he’s sweet. “Then, where would it hurt if I damage your heart?” I asked in a light, joking tone.
David’s eyes darkened and the smile faded from his lips. “The soul.”
Oh, boy. I can’t compete with that kind of response. “Um—” I cleared my throat and looked away from his eyes. �
�So, what’re we doing for the rest of the day?”
“I could show you a way to walk out to that island, if you like.”
“I’d like that. But won’t we get wet?”
David looked down at the tops of my thighs, just covered by the rim of my green dress, and smiled. “You won’t.”
“Well, we don’t have to do it today. We can come back another time.” I rolled onto my knees and sat with my face right in front of David’s. We both took a long, shaky breath, and my lips tingled with the idea that, this close to him, it would be so easy for us to kiss. God, I want to, so badly. My heart pumped limb-numbing blood through my veins, and the irrepressible desire for him to touch his lips to mine—to close the tiny breath of gap that’s keeping us from our first kiss—forced my eyes to close.
His breath tickled over my lips with the sugary sweetness of honey, and my own breath, warm and moist, blew back against my chin after touching his. Slowly, I edged forward, taking shallow breaths as each heart-stopping inch drew me closer.
“Ara.” David froze, and his wide eyes and stiff shoulders made the tiny hairs on the back of my neck rise as I looked behind me, following the aim of his stare.
“What is it?” Is there a spider or some other horrible, blood-sucking creature behind me?
David exhaled a quick breath and pushed off the rock behind him, breaking the energy between us as he stood. “It’s getting late.”
Huh? Late…but…? I looked at the sky; he’s right, it has gotten late, and quite a bit cooler than I realised.
The breath I’d been holding made a huge lump in my throat as I swallowed it, then exhaled loudly. What just happened? He was…I mean, I thought we were going to…
“You know, you’re right.” He stopped about ten paces away from me and swept his hands through his hair. “We can go out to the island another day. We better get going, though. I think I remember something about a History assignment due,” his voice rose in question.
History assignment! But…what about the kiss?
David squatted over the picnic basket and packed away sandwich wrappers and cups while I flopped onto my back with a huff. Why did he just spring up like that? Did my breath smell? I rolled my head toward my shoulder and discreetly blew into my skin. Nope. Smells like grapes. Not a bad smell.
God, my heart is still thumping in my chest. That moment was so magical, with our bodies so close to touching, the softness of his dark-pink lips practically against mine, and the heat in the small space between us like a burning that can only be felt in the middle of a summer’s day. I felt it, I’m sure he felt it, too. But why wouldn’t he want to kiss me? If that’s the reason he jumped up so suddenly. Then again, maybe I was just lost in my own little world, and David had never reached the conclusion of a kiss.
Worst part is, from what I know about this boy already, if he was avoiding a kiss, he’ll have some grand excuse. Only, all he’ll say is, “I will tell you, but not today.”
I sighed and stood up, then folded the picnic rug once David lifted the basket off it. “Here, you wanna stash this back in your rock crevice?”
He stepped away from me and shook his head. “This is your secret place now, too, Ara. I’ll show you where to hide it.”
I hugged the blanket back into my arms and smiled. “You mean our secret place.”
Chapter Eleven
Everything has been set out properly; my pencils neatly lined up at the top of the desk, my laptop centred in front of me, a notepad for ideas, and even a glass of water to keep me hydrated, but after sitting here surfing the Net for two hours, the only thing I’ve accomplished is a list of reasons David might not want to kiss me.
Let’s see, top of the list: he suddenly realised he doesn’t like me. I mean, the possibility of a kiss can reveal many things. Maybe he never realised until then.
Second on the list: he doesn’t know how to kiss. Which I find really hard to believe since, rumour tells me, he’s had no troubles with that in the past—despite what he says about dating. But then, they are just rumours.
My third and fourth conclusions involve something to do with zombies and Parmesan cheese. I’m so not gonna get into those right now.
With a huff, I slumped against the backrest of my chair and tapped my pencil on the desk. Outside, it grew dark over the hills to the east and the summer sun settled red on the cloudless sky, turning the tops of the maple trees golden pink.
My computer glared at me when I looked away from the sunset.
“I know, I know. Homework awaits,” I muttered, rolling my chair back to sit in front of the laptop.
Really, this project on myths is stupid. I have no idea what to write my paper on and I can’t really ask my dad, because that would give me an unfair advantage on the other kids.
Maybe homework would be easier if I could stop thinking about David. But I just don’t get it. I’m not complex or needy….okay, so maybe I’m a little needy—but all I really need or want is to do normal things with him like, you know, holding hands or going to a movie or snuggling up on the couch—kissing when my parents can’t see. But he won’t, and I can’t figure out why.
Who knows, maybe he doesn’t think our relationship is on that level yet. I mean, he’s pretty distant with the touching thing. Maybe he’s one of those guys who doesn’t kiss or anything until we’ve been ‘going steady’ for a month—or maybe he’s just using me to keep the other girls off him for a while. I wouldn’t blame him if he did, but he could at least tell me.
I flicked out my desk lamp and crawled into bed, still fully dressed and with an empty stomach. When Vicki comes to call me for dinner, I think I’ll pretend to be asleep. All this worrying and confusion and thinking is making me tired. Ever since I met David, I feel like I don’t know anything anymore.
Maybe if I can fall asleep I won’t have to think about him.
I puffed the pillows with fists of frustration, then slammed down on my back; the feathers swelled up around my cheeks, and a faint scent of fruit surrounded me.
That was the hardest thing about moving—how different things smell—like the sheets or the towels, and my shirts as I pulled them over my head. Vicki’s washing has a vibrant peachy smell, whereas my mum’s was a milky, powdery scent—a bit like Mike, since our mums always bought the same washing powder.
But peach is kind of comforting to me, now—it means I’m in bed, away from the world, away from my troubles.
However, I can’t escape my thoughts, no matter where I am. I mean, what is it with this David guy, anyway? Why couldn’t he have just taken me to the lake and kissed me—like a normal guy? Why does he have to be so puzzling?
Despite the sticky heat sneaking in through my window and gluing itself to my brow and neck, I lifted my feather quilt and slid my feet under it, rolling onto my side as I drew it up over my shoulders.
The room seemed so still, and a quiet charge—a sort of energy—filled the air in around me, becoming trapped under the stagnant heat. The crickets, which I hardly hear at all anymore, stopped humming and even the oak tree resited the light breeze—keeping its leaves as still as a doe being stalked by a wolf.
The sun drifted over the house completely, and I watched the sky turn black through the angled reflection of my dresser mirror. Beside my bed, a picture of Mike stared back at me from where I’d tacked it to the wall. I yanked it downward, pulling it off without chipping the paint, and held it between my fingers.
Mike always had such a bright, cheeky smile. I grew up looking at this face, which is probably why a guy’s smile is the first thing I seem to notice. I think, in a small way, I measure their smile up to my best friend’s.
The only place I get to see this smile now, though, is in my dreams or in a picture taken long ago.
I kissed the photo and pressed my thumb to it against the wall. I don’t even have a photo of David to sit and fantasise over. I have a few faded images in my mind and that’s it. But it’s better than nothing, I suppose, and in my dayd
reams he does kiss me and tell me how much he loves me. In last night’s adventures he even asked me to marry him—and I said yes.
With a self-satisfied smile, I closed my eyes and wandered away to my happy place.
Across the darkness of my mind, David sat strumming my guitar—his haunting song shadowing the background of my dream. I smiled at him, and he smiled back, then looked away again.
“David, why does it sound different, today?”
“The meaning’s changed.” He didn’t look up from the strings.
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“No, I don’t. Tell me.” My voice echoed as the world around us slipped away and a dense blackness became our new surroundings. A cold chill set my hairs on end. “David?”
He looked up, but looked right past me—no—through me, with eyes wide as he dropped his fingers from the strings.
Slowly, with my shoulders stiff and the tiny hairs on my neck tingling, I turned around, and a hollow blackness opened out before my eyes, leaving me standing on the edge of nothing, with a wild wind sucking the breath from my lungs. “David.” I took a step back, my heart thumping into my chest with the sudden urge to run. He played on, looking down at the strings as he plucked the notes. “David? Can you hear me?” I called loudly over the roaring wind.
He looked up—looked around, but looked past me again.
“David!” I leaned forward, screaming his name. “David, why won’t you answer me?”
“He doesn’t care what happens to you,” said a deep, jeering voice from behind.
The wind stopped. I spun back around and gazed into the empty space. “Who are you?”
“You know who I am.”
“What do you want?”
“It’s not what I want that you should be worried about, little girl—” the voice hissed, “It’s what he wants.”
“Who? David?”