“Being in love?”
His fingers tangled in my hair and he pulled me slightly closer. “Being in love with you. And now, every time I see this colour, my heart skips a beat; it makes me think of everything that might be possible, that never was before.”
I kind of laughed. “Aw, I feel special now.”
He laughed too. “Sorry. Does it bother you for me to speak my heart?”
“Not at all. But sometimes I feel like you’re making this stuff up, you know, like you’re just saying what I want to hear.”
He held out his pinkie; “I promise I speak only truth.”
I linked mine over his. “Then I promise to always try to believe you. But I can’t promise not to giggle.”
“Well—” he swiped his thumb down my chin, “—we both know how I feel about that giggle.”
The warm sun heated the room around us then, and the tranquil hum of the weekend filled the air, until a loud rumbling disturbed the peace.
David looked down at my belly. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”
I shook my head.
“Come on, we need to feed you before the beast presents itself.”
“You know me too well, already.”
* * *
Skittles hissed, leaping out my open window, sending my homework scattering as we entered the room.
“What did you do to that cat, David?” I asked, turning to look at him. “He hates you.”
David grinned, closing the door. “Are you suggesting I threw him up that tree to get your attention?”
I laughed. “It wouldn’t sur—”
“Ara.” Vicki opened my door. “This stays open.”
My arms fell loosely by my sides. “Seriously?”
She gave me ‘the glare’, then walked away.
“Looks like the cat’s not the only one who doesn’t trust me,” David joked, smiling.
“Argh.” I stomped over to my desk and pressed play on my iPod. “Why does she have to treat me like a child?”
“She’s not,” he said, tossing my stuffed dog aside as he landed on my pillow. “She’s treating you like a teenager who’s alone in her room with a boy.”
I smiled and turned the music up pretty loud—loud enough to give us some privacy. “Well, she needs to get used to you being around. After all, you are going to come meet me here every morning now, so you can make me one of those glorious coffees, aren’t you?”
He chuckled, opening his arm so my body could slide along next to his. “You liked that, did you?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Well—” he kissed my head as I snuggled into him, “—I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” But I kinda knew he wouldn’t. I think Vicki made him feel really unwelcome.
“I’m not bothered by your stepmother, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
I rolled up a bit to look at him; his green eyes smiled down at me. “I was. I thought maybe she’d offended you—you know, sitting with us at breakfast and all.”
“Not even a little bit.” He pressed my head until I rested it back on his white T-shirt. “I’ve dealt with a lot worse than Vicki.”
“Well, you’re pre-approved by my dad, right? So she has to accept you.”
“She does, sweetheart. Just give her time.”
I nodded, and we laid that way for a while then, music filling the silence, while a summer breeze swept through the window, circling my vanilla body wash with the fragrance of fresh cut grass and the sharp, spicy scent of David’s cologne. It was 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 jam versus jelly and sweater versus jumper. He thought jumper was another word for a kangaroo or a really depressed guy standing on a rooftop.
“And the food here is different, too, as in the portions,” I said. “I’ve never been so happy in all my life.” I patted my belly. “The 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?” I rolled onto my belly, resting 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?”
Seriously? So we were playing the withholding game again. I deliberately slumped myself a little too heavily onto my back against his chest again. “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 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, 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, cupping his hand over mine, stopping it from lifting his shirt.
“Really? Why? They’re so—icky.”
“Not for me. I love a good, scary horror. I have this thing for blood; can’t get enough of it.”
Well, I never assumed that one. I just couldn’t believe my ears. Sweet, kind David? Liked blood? It just didn’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 was it about him that could come across as so harmless, when all I’d heard were stories about his bullying antics, and now he was telling me he liked horror?
“It doesn’t suit you,” I said.
“What?”
“Gore, horror. All that stuff. I can’t picture you watching things like that.”
He just laughed. “Guess we won’t be having many movie nights then—since we have such different tastes.”