I hugged the blanket and smiled. “You mean our secret place.”
Chapter Eleven
Everything had been set out properly; my pencils neatly lined up beside a notepad, my laptop centred, and even a glass of water for hydration. But after surfing the Net for two hours, the only thing I’d accomplished was a mental list of reasons David wouldn’t kiss me.
Outside, the hills to the east grew dark, and the summer sun settled red on a cloudless sky, turning the tops of the maple trees golden pink. It wasn’t until my eyes burned, looking back at the white glow of my computer screen that I realised my attention had been on the distant horizon longer than I thought. It was almost too dark in my room to see now.
I tapped my pencil on the desk, trying to focus, but every time I tried to commit to an idea, the burn of kiss-rejection stole my concentration, forcing me to worry about why David jumped away from me so quick. All I wanted was to do normal things with him like, you know, holding hands, going to a movie or snuggling up on the couch—kissing when my parents weren’t in the room. But we were in the middle of nowhere today, and he still wouldn’t kiss me.
I groaned at myself, and despite the sticky heat sneaking in through my window, gluing itself to my brow and neck, I lifted the feather quilt on my bed and slid my feet under it, rolling onto my side as I drew it up over my shoulders. Maybe if I could fall asleep until Vicki called me for dinner, I wouldn’t have to think about David.
I flicked the lamp out and snuggled down, breathing the fruity scent of my sheets. That was the hardest thing about moving; how different things smelled—like the towels and my shirts as I pulled them over my head. Vicki’s clean laundry had a vibrant, peachy smell, whereas my mum’s was a milky, powdery scent—a bit like Mike, since our mums always bought the same laundry detergent. But peach was kind of comforting to me now; it meant I was in bed, away from the world, away from my troubles. I lay perfectly still, listening for the crickets’ closing act, but the air was so thick and dense with heat even the bugs had taken the back road to anywhere but here.
The sun completely disappeared then, leaving the heat behind, and when the soft breeze picked up outside, I closed my eyes and imagined it was the sound of the ocean. When I opened them again, Mike smiled down at me from the photo I’d tacked on my bedside wall. I yanked it downward and touched my fingers to his bright, cheeky smile. In so many ways, every guy I met, every smile that made my heart flutter, had been measured up to Mike’s; it was always the first thing I noticed about a guy, always the deal breaker. The only place I got to see Mike’s smile now, though, was in my dreams or in a picture taken long ago.
I kissed the photo and pressed my thumb to it against the wall. “G’night, Mike.”
I didn’t even have a photo of David to sit and fantasise over. All I had were a few faded images in my mind. But it was better than nothing, and more than enough to cast him in my fantasies each night. I closed my eyes and wandered away to my happy place, seeing David by the lake, strumming my guitar. He smiled back at me, then looked away again.
“The words have changed.” I sat on the ground beside him, my legs crossed.
“No, they haven’t.”
“They have. That song was about love before.”
“And what is it about now?” he asked.
“I think…” I frowned, listening to him sing the words. “Death?”
His lips tugged on the corners, showing his dimples. “That’s what it was always about.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did. You just couldn’t hear it,” he said and leaned closer, plucking the same string over and over again, the horrid repetition of a single note making my ears ring. “Listen now.”
“But that’s not a song.”
“Then you’re not listening.” He played louder; I covered my ears.
“David. I don’t get it. I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
“Death, Ara. It’s about death.” He appeared in front of my face, his nose touching mine. “Can you handle death?”
“Whose death?”
“Theirs.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Answer me.” He grabbed my arms, the high note he was playing before ringing as the shadows closed in around us, making the ledge of his brow dark, menacing. “Answer me!”
“No!” I sat bolt upright, still feeling his hands on my arms, while the screeching of that single note, which suddenly gained a tone, became the ring of the phone. I jumped out of bed and grabbed it. “Hello?”
“Hey, kid, did I wake you?”
“Mike? Um—I uh, no, I was just daydreaming. What’re you doing up?” I looked at my clock. “Isn’t it, like, before six in the morning over there?”
“Yeah, I was in bed, but I was just layin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout ya.” I could hear the grin behind his tone.
“Me? Why?” I sat at my desk.
“Interview’s booked now—for next Monday. Thought I might start planning my trip.”
“When do you think you’ll be coming?”
He took a long breath. “I was thinking I should fly out that night?”
“Really?” Elation made my voice high. “That’s fine with me. I’d be happy if you came now.” I flipped open my laptop, clicked on my calendar, then iTunes.
“You miss me that much, huh?” He sounded surprised.
“Mike, I’ve never, ever had to live without you before. You’re like my security blanket. I miss hanging out, you know, just being—normal.”
“Great. I’m a blanky.” He laughed. “What about David? He still in the picture?” His light tone concealed a spearhead—something only I would notice.
“Argh. I just. Don’t. Know, Mike. You know, he told me he loves me?” I whined. “But—”
“After a week?” Mike’s voice cracked.
“Yes. Well, it’s not a week for him, remember? He’s had around a month to think about it. But, you know, it’s funny ‘cause I kinda fell in love with him, too, like, the day I saw him.” It was hard to admit that—especially to Mike. I knew he couldn’t comprehend love, and I never wanted to hear the word infatuation.
“So what’s the problem, then? Are you being a commitment-phobe again?” He sighed, sounding bored.