"Mom said we shouldn't be in here..." Jane's whiny voice makes me even more determined to explore the abandoned house at the top of the hill. "She'll get mad."
"Not unless someone tells her about it. What she doesn't know won't hurt us." I wished I had left my pouty faced little sister at home. "Aren't you a little bit curious about this place?" She makes a noncommittal sound and gets her phone out of the pocket. "You better not tell mom!"
"God! I'm texting Sarah about tomorrow night... I have a life you know." And even though she mumbles I can hear her say: "I'm not some pathetic bitch with a bad attitude..."
God I really hate her sometimes.
The dirty floor is covered with footprints and when I look into one of the small parlours I see that someone has smashed every piece of furniture into smithereens. "Assholes."
"What?" Jane never looks up from her phone so I don't bother answering.
Out towards the back of the house we enter a large room with only two pieces of furniture, a large table in the centre and a huge wardrobe in the far corner. Jane lingers by the door, still occupied with whatever plans she's hatching with Sarah. I should have come alone.
People have carved their initials and other messages into the table, love and hate intertwined over the years. I soon lose interest. The old newspaper is from three years ago, torn at the edges and obviously, from seeing all the butts littering the floor, used for rolling cheap cigarettes by the punks who use this place from time to time.
"Are you done yet?" Jane sounds more bored than ever as I yank at the wardrobe's doors to see what it hides. It's swollen shut and from looking at the marks around the edges of it no one has been able to get it open, ever. "Just give me a minute!" Her sigh says it all, but I square my shoulders and tell myself to ignore her insults.
I can't believe I didn't see the large cross standing in the window. It looks almost untouched by the punks, from the discoloration of the window sill I can see it's been moved, but not much else. My OCD kicks in and I carefully put it back in its spot. There. A small note flutters to the floor, it must have been hidden beneath the cross.
Leah Andersen has the prettiest smile.
My heart skips several beats. I think I forget how to breathe. I read the words again.
"Aw come on Leah! I wanna go home!"
"Yeah." I let her lead me out of the old house, not really looking where we're going and not before long I see our house at the edge of town. Everything seems a little brighter now, life is a little better. Somewhere out there a punk thinks I have the prettiest smile.
It was hard to not obsess over the note I found in the abandoned house earlier today. No one’s ever called me pretty in any way before, other than mom or my grandparents that is and they don’t really count.
“Can I borrow your pink shirt?” Jane’s already in my wardrobe fetching said shirt without waiting for my response. “You’ll never wear it anyway. I dont know what possessed mom to buy you a pink shirt, you never wear anything pink.” And there she goes, leaving my room, shirt in hand.
“You’re welcome!” I don’t bother raising my voice. Instead I went my frustration out on Twitter and call her the grabby handed bitch she really is.
This is one of those times I’m grateful Jane can’t see the wonder that is Twitter, she’s all Facebook and Snapchat. My trusty online friends all agree with me on that my little sister needs to figure out how boundaries work.
I find myself laughing out loud at what Q (@bionuralparticlecircuit) tells me I should do, and no I don’t know his real name or how he looks, he’s just Q with the Klingon avatar. Which really doesn’t make any sense to anyone who’s watched Star Trek. His defense is that this is his way of being able to tell real fans from posers. I think he just gets off from jerking the chain of Star Trek fans.
“You should go get the shirt back and wear it every day for a week.”
“No way! It’s fugly!!! and PINK!”
“Aw come on Leah. I bet you’d look cute in pink.” Yes, Q knows my name, but then I’m open about the fact that this is my name. And him saying I’d be cute has my heart beating a whole lot faster than I want to admit.
“I’m cute enough already…” Did I really tweet him that? I hold my breath for him to respond. For all I know he could be a she, or way old, or a spambot. Please don’t be any of those things!
“That you are, but pink would really be the cherry on top.” I feel heat rise in my cheeks. Heart hammering I type my response.
“Well, for you I’d wear pink. Only because you’re nice about it.”
“Nice?! That’s insulting. I’m NOT a nice boy.”
A chuckle escapes me and I leave my laptop to rifle through my clothes to see if there are any other pink things hidden there. As I get to the very bottom of my piles of t shirts I come across a bright pink tee I bought a few years ago. I remember loving it at the store, but when I got home and showed Jane she laughed so hard I could never make myself wear it. It has a big sparkly silver star on the front and is like nothing else I own.
I change out of my olive green tank top and realize it’s very short and tight, you can just make out the butterflies I have tattooed on the left side of my stomach, but I take a funny angled picture of me wearing it and tweet Q. “This what you mean? lol”
All evening I wait for his reply, but he seems to have disappeared. It can’t be the picture I sent, we’ve tweeted pictures before. Him of his cat or something funny he’s seen and me of myself and random things I’ve thought he’d might find amusing. We have this “things with faces” thing going on and are constantly trying to up each other. All I’m asking for is at least him starring my tweet, to let me know he’s seen it.
I wake up to Jane shouting at mom and stomping up the stairs. The door to my room flies open and she flings herself onto my bed.
“Hey!” She lets out this big dramatic sigh and throws her arm over her face.
“Mom won’t let me go to the party tonight.” Ah, I should have known. My sister isn’t known to be good at holding her curfews and it seems her errant ways are finally being punished. “But I totally have to go! Brian’s going and if I’m not there someone else will get her filthy little paws on him and I’ve missed my chance!” Brian’s Jane’s flavour of the month.
“Ah, well. If he’s that stupid then maybe he’s not worth it?” I struggle into a sitting position and hug my knees to my chest. “You’re pretty enough to get any boy you want.” Her arm falls from her face as she looks me in the eye.
“Thanks. I know.” My eye roll puts a smile back on her face. “But maybe if you come too? She’d never say no to you.” My laugh makes her sit up and grab hold of my hands. “Oh pretty please! Pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top!”
“No.” I’m not laughing anymore.
“Oh come on! There will be loads of punks and freaks there too, you’ll not be all alone.” Gee thanks. “And Carly lives next door, if you get bored you guys can always go over to her house for a bit.”
“Are you telling me it’s Shane Sullivan’s party?” Now I’d never get out of it. Carly’s had a crush on Shane since forever and if she caught wind of Jane’s plan I’d be dragged there by my hair. Jane’s wide grin tells me she knows I’m not getting out of this.
At breakfast I wait until mom’s had her coffee before breaching on the subject.
“Anyway. Carly’s asked me to go to a party with her. At her neighbor's house.” Mom nods noncommittally and continues to read the newspaper. “And I could take Jane too, make sure she gets home alright and stuff.” I hate my sister so much, she texted Carly before I even got out of bed and the both of them nagged me into it. Mom looks from Jane to me before answering.
“Midnight.” Jane launches into loud protests but mom silences her with a look. “Fine, be home by one. But any later than that and I’m turning both of you into pumpkins!” I kick Jane under the table when I see that she’s about to complain about this curfew too.
“We’ll make sure to be home by one, the latest.” Mom isn’t looking at me, but keeps Jane in a death stare until she too nods her head.
I look down at my olive green tank top and black sweats, my standard outfit for lounging around the house, and realize I’ll be needing Carly’s help if I want to outshine Jane tonight, which I usually wouldn’t care about, but she’s getting on my nerves more than usual. I heard her squeal to Sarah about her getting to go to Shane’s party and how she’d make Brian fall for her. I’m not even two years older but sometimes it feels like decades.
Carly texts me and tells me to get my butt over to her house a couple hours before the party, and to bring Jane and Sarah with me, apparently Jane’s in her good books at the moment for setting me up and getting us to Shane’s. Knowing I won’t be hearing any good music tonight I start my “No One Understands Me” playlist and as Foo Fighter’s “Razor” flows out from the speakers I decide to colour my hair.
My hair’s this ashy blonde colour and I tend to get sick of it from time to time and get mom to colour it for me. Her salon is in what originally was the garage, but when my parents bought this house they remodelled it for her to work from home. Dad travels a lot for work and having mom working from home has been both a blessing and a curse. Growing up I was sure I’d be a hairdresser too, Jane’s still thinking about it, but I’m not sure about anything. Last year I was going to be a veterinarian, but after realizing you have to put animals down I just couldn’t do it anymore. Now I’m thinking about becoming a librarian, I love reading and why not combine that with getting payed?
The smell of chemicals and blow dryers fill my nose when I open the door leading from the kitchen to the salon. Mom’s busy putting Mrs Elms hair up in curlers and both of them offer me a smile as I go flip through the books with hair colour samples.
“You changing your hair again Leah?” Mrs Elms has been mom’s customer since she started out.
“Yeah. It’s time.” I show her the book and point at a dark purple colour. “Think this would look good on me?” Mom huffs, she doesn’t like it when I chose dark colours.
“Honey, with summer here you should really go with the lighter colours.” Mrs Elms points to at an almost white blonde.
Mom hums approvingly. “You could always add a pop of colour.” She’s done with the curlers and goes to get the bulky hood hair dryer. “Do you want some coffee Ann?” Mrs Elms nods under the now buzzing hood and I go into the kitchen to fetch her a cup of coffee and some biscuits.
Mom motions me to the other chair as she stirs bright purple gunk in a small black bowl.
“You’re getting platinum blonde with your choice of additional colour.” I place the cape over my shoulders and remove the elastic from my hair. “I can manage purple, red, pink or black right away. If you want another colour you’ll have to wait until next week.”
I sit and watch her comb and separate my hair and then add the strongly smelling goo first to my roots and then evenly all through my hair. The burning sensation on my scalp is close to painful, but I grit my teeth and wait for it to pass, it always does and this is totally worth a few minutes of pain.
“I’ll leave it for 30 minutes to begin with, think of what colour you’d prefer.” My hair is piled on top of my head in a glistening purple bun and mom’s rolling the other hood dryer into position when my phone beeps and shows me Carly making a duckface. She’s a little too proud of that selfie and uses it all over social media, according to her she’s making fun of the phenomenon but I honestly think that she thinks she looks the business.
“You CAN’T wear green or black tonight!”
“I really don’t own anything else.”
“Aw come on! I’m sure Jane can lend you something.” I pretend to gag and have mom and Mrs Elms looking at me funny.
“No way am I dressing up like Jane!” She responds with a long line of angry and/or frustrated looking emojis and I’m not getting into an emoji war with the Queen of emoji texting. It’s better if she’s thrown off track.
“I’m going for Barbie this time.” And I attach a picture of myself under the hood dryer, making a really bad duckface.
“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” I send her a winky faced emoji and pocket my phone.
Flipping through every magazine I can get my hands on takes me through waiting for the gunk to do its thing. Mrs Elms gives me a wink and a smile as she leaves, her hair all strict curls again and mom comes over to check on my hair. “Time to rinse.” I shuffle from my chair to the basin and she shampoos my hair several times before stopping to look me in the eyes.
“You’d rather not keep it like this? One colour?” I shake my head and she rolls her eyes. “Well then, what colour do I add?”
“Can I have two? Black and red?” I swear I hear her groan.
“Sure. Why not. Don’t move. I suppose I should be thankful it’s just hair and not more tattoos.” Mumbling under her breath she leaves me at the basin and returns carrying two small bowls and strips of aluminum foil. “I’ll do one colour on each side of your face, that way you can change it around a bit.” I nod, she’s the pro here anyway.
An hour later I’m back in my room and I can’t get over the fact how amazing my hair looks. Mom styled it all to one side, making the red and black hug the left side of my face. When I part my hair down the middle I get this Harley Quinn vibe, which is so cool! Tonight though I’ll keep it like mom styled it and I add more hairspray to keep it in place.
I have to share this with Q! I get as far as taking a picture before I realize I’ve still not heard anything from him since yesterday and that just feels really weird. Usually we tweet each other something every day, or at least acknowledge each other by RT’s or starring. There’s only one thing to do: go stalk his profile and see what I can figure out from there.
It looks like it always has, very Star Treky and very Q. His last tweet was the one he sent me about not being a nice boy, I scroll down his page but nothing looks out of the ordinary and I soon throw my phone on my bed.
“Gorramit!” I feel like punching something, someone, I don’t know. My playlist, which has been shuffling through itself while I got my hair done is wailing out Smashing Pumpkins and I hear Jane trying to drown my music out with her own. Though I’d never call “5 seconds of summer” music…
“Jane!” I don’t bother knocking, she never does. “Do you have those skinny jeans mom bought last month?”
“What? Yeah. Why?” She looks at me funny for a moment before shooting me the biggest smile. “Oh wow! Oh! My! God! Your hair!” The last bit she shrieks into my face. “I love it! It’s like so you!” I feel like I might pass out from exclamation mark overdose. I push her out of my face and point at her wardrobe.
“The jeans. Do you have them? I need something that’s not green or black…” By the way she nods I’m guessing she knows of Carly’s demands. Should I be worried that they’re communicating?
“You need to borrow a shirt too?” As if I’d be seen in any of her shirts.
“No.” She looks like she wants to say something else, but I more or less slam the door in her face and go shut myself in my room until it’s time to leave.
The struggle of choosing a top to go with those jeans, one that wasn’t green or black, was almost enough for me to call Carly and tell her I’m not going. But after standing in nothing but jeans and my bra while at least five songs played, I grabbed the bright pink t shirt I had dumped on the floor next to my desk. I rolled the jeans up a little and added my silver ankle bracelet, paired with black high tops I still looked like me, but different.
“It’s not getting any better than this Leah…” I wish I had someone to whine about this to, someone who’d totally understand how I feel. Someone like Q.
“Being forced to go to a preppy party, filled with preppy people, disguised as a preppy girl. _#killmenow__”_
Maybe this would get Q’s attention. Unless he’s dead. What if he died last night and I’ll never know! Jane barges in and disturbs my morbid thoughts. “We have to go now! Sarah’s waiting and I need to start with my makeup!” I look at my phone, 4 pm.
“Honestly Jane? You need more than three hours to put makeup on? There’s something seriously wrong with you…” She spins around to face me, but seeing me in a pink t shirt has her speechless. I should do this more often. “Well, let’s go. We’re in a hurry, aren’t we?” She nods and leads the way to the old Ford mom and dad bought for our use.
By the time we reach Carly's house Jane and Sarah both have managed to give me a headache by being themselves, and I can't wait to go home again. The front door opens before we're halfway up the path and Carly almost tackles me to the ground with the hug she gives me.
"Oh my God, look at you! So pretty!"
"Thanks, I know I looked awful before but I didn’t know it was this bad..." She's not faced by my sarcasm and drags us up the stairs to her room. Sarah and Jane go all googly eyed at the view from her window, it's a perfect view of Shane's pool and right now it offers a perfect view of him in his swimming trunks.
“I know he’s fit and all that, but this is getting ridiculous!” They’ve been staring, giggling and nudging each other for at least 15 minutes. “Is this why we had to come here early? To watch Shane make his laps? I thought we had faces to paint.” With a shriek Sarah and Jane spin around and head for Carly’s bathroom, gathering their bags as they go. Carly stays by the window, absentmindedly twirling a lock of hair around her finger.
“So dreamy... “ She’s been saying the same thing for years and I’ve told her to tell him, but she’d much rather live in her fantasy then risk real life heartbreak. Which I totally understand, but she deserves so much more. She’s the best person I know. “Do you think he’ll notice me tonight?”
“Of course he will, unless he’s no brains and all brawn.” One glance in her direction tells me she doesn’t seem to care much for his brains. With her blonde hair, blue eyes and sweet smile she’s nothing like the loud obnoxious girls surrounding Shane and I usually feel like punching him in the face for not understanding.
Thankfully Shane decides he needs to get ready for the party, making it possible to have a meaningful conversation with Carly in which she says more than: “Mhm.”, “Yeah.” and “Totally.”. Distraction out of the way she now sets her eyes on getting me a makeover.
“Really, I just need a little bit of eyeliner and some mascara and I’ll be set.” Carly laughs at me and attacks me with foundation, powder and all kind of other beauty products. “Just because I said I’m going for Barbie doesn’t mean I really want to look like her!”
“Oh shut up. I know how to play your features and remember I’m your best friend since forever, I’d never make you look bad. That would totally make me look bad too.” Bursting out laughing at the same time we have to take a break from finishing my face and she ends up having to reapply the under eye concealer from me laughing hard enough to cry.
Two hours later the door to Carly’s bathroom opens and a ridiculously made up Sarah steps over the treachhold. When Jane follows I can’t help but stare at her, her eyes are so smokey it looks like she has two black shiners and paired with that bright red lipstick she looks way older than 16.
“You look like a hooker Jane.” Carly nods in agreement. “You too Sarah. Both of you need to wash some of that off.”
“You’re not mom!” Jane’s shrill voice tells me she knows she’s overdone it.
“No, I’m your big sister and ride home. Unless you want to leave right now and explain to mom why you look like this I strongly suggest you go and remove some of it.”
“Lighten up the eye and loose the lipstick.” I don’t know if they heard Carly’s comment because they slammed the door to the bathroom and didn’t come out again until it was time to leave for the party, both of them now wearing much less makeup.
Carly and I had spent the time waiting by stalking people’s Facebook profiles and me by writing witty Twitter comments about what we found. Still not a peep from Q, I wish I had talked about him to Carly, but I’ve wanted to keep him to myself. She's resumed her position by the window, the music’s been blasting from Shane’s house a good hour or so already.
“Shit! Is that Amanda Peters?” Carly leans out the window to get a better look at whoever is standing out by the pool. ”I knew she had a thing for Shane even though she said she didn’t think he was very cute.” Squinting she leans out a little more and I grab a hold of her daisy dukes to prevent her from falling.
“Yo Carly! What you doing out the window? Aren’t you coming over?” Am I glad I held on to her or what! Shane calling for her made her knees totally give way. The people by the pool laughed and waved us over.
“Leah…” Carly looked frightened to death and super excited at the same time.
“I know babe.” Smiling I nudged her towards the door and the party.
My little sister and her best friend disappear as soon as we enter the awfully crowded living room, apparently Brian and his friends are down in the den playing pool. The house smells of lemon scented floor cleaner, beer and every perfume known to man.
“Is the entire school here tonight?” I have to shout to make Carly hear me.
“Looks like.” Her eyes scan the crowd for Shane. Great. Tonight will be her being totally hung up on Shane, not even looking at anyone else and I’ll follow her around like the pathetic little friend I am. She so owes me a tub of Ben & Jerry’s. We work our way through the living room and the dance floor, towards the kitchen, weaving our way between everyone and their uncle.
“Ohmygosh Leah! Your hair!” Sandy Johansen gets in my face and pretends she like what I’ve done. Her two shadows giggle and smirk, and this has other people in the kitchen turn to look at what’s going on. I am not going to let her get to me. I am not going to punch her face. I am going to giggle and act like I thought she gave me a compliment.
“Ohmygosh I know right!” Maybe I overdid it a little, Sandy’s smile slips and I see her looking annoyed. I give her my best airhead smile and flip my hair. Okay, so that was way over the line, her face sours and she stomps off with her entourage in tow.
Brad from biology gives me a thumbs up from over by the keg but Amy and Becky shake their heads, they know Sandy will be bitching about me to everyone who’ll listen. Why can’t I listen to myself? I could try to be not so very snarky from time to time.
“Woha! Leah?” I turn around to stare into the chest of Joseph Frazier, a very fine looking chest covered in a tight white t shirt. “I was wondering who the babe was that came with Carly. I didn’t recognize you until you shot Sandy down!” I raise my eyes and match his grin.
“Why Joseph, you think I'm a babe do you?" We dated for a while, but realised we're better suited as friends than anything.
"You know I do, but you broke my heart and now I'll have to make due with not so very babe looking girls..."
"Laying it on a little thick, aren't you." He gives me a wink and drains his beer. And just in time, some pink haired girl slams into him and shoves me out of the way by elbowing me in the ribs.
“Ow!” She totally ignores me, she’s way too busy eating his face and the fact that he’s forgotten about my existence tells me I should go do something. Like try to find Carly.
Out back people are splashing about in the pool, crowding the tanning beds and making out in the gazebo. A couple of guys from the swimming team have taken over the outdoor bar and are making poisonous looking cocktails and they’re trying to get anyone who walks by to drink them.
“Hey you!” Nick points at me and tries to have me take a neon orange concoction. “Try this!”
“Oh no Nick, even if I wasn’t driving tonight I’d never drink anything you’ve mixed together… I still have emotional scars from 8th grade chemistry class.” He looks confused for a moment and then his eyes fall out of his head when he realises who I am.
“Leah?” What is this? An episode of Body Snatchers? Like really. I roll my eyes at him and continue looking for the girl who claims to be my best friend but obviously leaves me alone at pitifully preppy pool parties.
They’ve cleared an area next to the pool and placed huge speakers to make an additional dance space outside, Tanya and Sophie wave me over. I might as well strut my stuff a while, it’s almost impossible finding anyone in this crowd anyway. Bumping and grinding with people I know well and others I hardly know the name of takes me through the next few hours, but I’m getting thirsty and Carly’s disappearance is getting on my nerves. I don’t trust any of the beverages they have lined up on the bar, most likely they’ve been spiked with just any type of alcohol or a little bit of everything.
Pulling my phone from my pocket is a little tricky since these are the skinniest jeans known to man and when I light the screen to see if Carly’s send me any clue to her whereabouts I first get pissed that she seems to have forgotten all about me, until the little bird up in the notifications gets my attention. Among the usual tweets from famous people I follow there’s a tweet from Q. My knees turn to jelly and my heart flutters in my chest, he sent it less than 5 minutes ago.
“you sure are a sight for sore eyes and you’re looking mighty thirsty out there by the pool”
My head snaps up, scanning the crowd milling about around the pool, craning my neck to see into the house. Nick and Josh are still mixing drinks, Sandy is shooting me dirty looks, Maggie and Paul are practically having sex in the hot tub, but no one looks like he’s just tweeted me.
I don’t know what to think, what to believe, how to behave. Q’s here, at Shane’s party. My world flips upside down at the thought of him being a student at my school. Have I passed him in the hall, spoken to him, do I actually know him, have I rolled my eyes at him or never paid him any attention? I don’t know what’s worse.
I have to play it cool. I can’t act like some dimwitted fangirling tweeny. My hands are shaking as I type my response.
“well, a NICE thing to do would be to bring me a non-spiked drink, but I forgot... you’re not a nice boy”
Suck on that Q! Or, pretty pretty please don’t get offended and please start talking to me again. Nothing happens. The music keeps on playing, people keep pushing their way past me, Carly’s still missing and I keep staring at my phone. I shouldn’t have tweeted that. Why can I never do the right thing?
A Fanta appears between my phone and my face, as I let my eyes work their way up the arm attached to the hand holding the can I feel time screech to a halt at the sight of the tattoo: NCC-1701-D. The serial number of Captain Picard’s ship, the USS Enterprise D.
“I can be nice... sometimes.” I know this voice. It scares me how well I know this voice. It’s a voice I connect with New Year parties, space and half forgotten childhood memories. Every conflicting emotion I’ve ever felt from the age of 12 up to today battle each other inside my body. My brain tries to deal with this revelation of who Q really is, but it can come up with one thing.
“Captain?”.
His chuckle has me looking up into his face and I feel myself falling into an ocean of starry blue. “No one’s called me that in a long time.” There’s a softness in his eyes that I didn’t know I’ve been missing and a familiarity that wraps me up in comforting arms.
Our parents called us “the space marauders” growing up. There wasn’t a day that went by when we didn’t spend most part of it together, running over fields, climbing trees and shooting at aliens. Until they moved to a town a ten hour drive away.
I cried for days, and it wasn’t until Carly found herself sitting next to me in homeroom that I believed I’d ever find a friend as great as Quentin Reed. Every year our families meet to celebrate New Year’s together, which was great at first, but then got really awkward when he slowly turned into a hunk and I felt uncomfortable in my own changing body.
Last New Year I had been sick with the flu and my parents left me at home with my grandparents. I’m a little ashamed to admit I had been quite happy to have missed it all, it had been almost impossible to talk to him the year before that, imagine having to spend two days with someone you don’t have the guts to talk to.
“But how? Why? Why didn’t you tell me?” The surprise has worn off and it has left me feeling embarrassed. His eyes flick over to the people dancing, looking at anything but me. “Really? You couldn’t tell me you were my first best friend? The only boy who ever really got me. And let’s not discuss how pathetic that is since you moved away when we were six.”
He puts the can down and shoves his hands into his pockets and I realize I’m on my toes, about to shout the questions in his face. “Cool it Leah, no need to make a scene.” Quentin’s eyes snap back to me and his lips twitch, holding back a grin. “What?” A full grin flashes, making my knees weak and my brain turn into mush. His fingers brush my face, setting me on fire.
“You’re perfect Leah.” Huh? Did I hear that right? My brain wants to ask him what he means by that but my mouth has other ideas, my heart is pumping syrup and there are butterflies in my stomach, committing suicide. He sighs and drops his hand.
“I meant to tell you. Maybe not online, but the next time we met…” There’s this deliciously spicy scent around him making it hard for me to focus on what he’s saying. “But then you weren’t there last New Year and I kinda liked you not knowing. I doubt you would have been as open with me if you had known who I really was.” I’m not denying that. “And I like talking to you, it’s the best part of any day.”
“But still. You should have said something!” I’m angry with him, I’m angry with him, I’m totally freaking out over the fact that I’m falling for him. Maybe it’s always been him? “And why did you disappear on me last night? And why are you here right now?” His cheeks turn a light pink, he’s blushing!
“Oh man! When you sent me that picture...” Blowing out a breath he looks out over the people screaming and splashing in the pool. “You took my breath away.” Blue eyes pierce mine. “And I’ve kept in touch with my other friends you know, Shane’s dad works at the same company as mine and we’ve hung out quite a lot. He always invites me to his parties, I’ve never really felt like showing up before.” His fingers stroke my cheek again.
“You’re so beautiful Leah, I don’t even think you know how beautiful you are.” My brain shuts down right there, I throw my arms around his neck and pull his mouth down to mine. His arms wrap around me, holding me tight, one hand tangling my hair, the other stroking the exposed skin of my lower back. Every cell in my body is tingling, shooting off fireworks and blowing up butterflies. One part of my brain drunkenly tries to tell me this is all a dream, another part tells it to shut up and never stop drinking his kisses.
When the alarm on my phone warns me there’s only half an hour left until our curfew Quentin and I have moved from standing by the pool to having a full makeout session on one of the not very comfortable benches in the gazebo.
“I have to go.” My lips feel swollen and all tingly and I know that my clothes and hair must look a mess. Quentin pulls me back for one more kiss and there goes another 10 minutes.
“Leah!” I jump off his lap at the sound of Jane’s voice calling me from not far away. Quentin looks surprised and a little hurt as I try to straighten my clothes and not look as if I’ve been having sex, but with my clothes on.
“Gotta go.” I can’t quite look at him, the fire burning inside of me scares me and it’s all just a little too much for me to handle.
“Leah?” I grab Jane as I pass and pull her towards the house, keeping an eye out for Carly.
“What have you done all night?” Jane giggles. “Or should I be asking who?”
“Shut up.” She falls into another fit of giggles, so I drop her hand and head for the house without looking to see if she follows.
I see Carly straight away, she has Shane’s arms encircling her waist and a silly smile across her face. “We need to go.” I refuse to look Shane in the eye. I know there’s a hickey somewhere on my neck and I can’t take any teasing, not even a raised eyebrow.
“Okay.” I swear I see rainbows, glitter and unicorns dancing around her head. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” With all the details about her makeout session with Shane no doubt. I force a smile and hurry towards the front door and cut across the lawn to throw myself into the car. Soon after the passenger side door opens and a disturbingly quiet Jane gets in. After dropping Sarah off we drive the last minutes in total silence, I can’t stop thinking about Quentin. How he devastated he looked when I left him there at the party.
Jane stays in the car after I’ve parked it on the curb, I get the feeling she wants to say something so I turn towards her. She looks out the window and sighs. “He’s had a crush on you for ages you know. Quentin. You’ve just been too self absorbed to notice.” And this from the Queen of Narcissism.
“I kinda noticed tonight though…” Neither of us can hold the giggles back.
“Ew! TMI!” She covers her ears and laughs. Then she looks at me, all mirth gone from her face. “But jokes aside. What are you going to do about it?” I sigh and run my fingers through my hair.
“I don’t know. I mean like him, I think I always have… but I don’t know.” Mom steps out onto the porch and Jane opens the car door to let her know we know that it’s time to get inside.
“You should give him a chance, he’s a nice guy.” I love my sister, sometimes.
“Hey. What about Brian?” She shrugs her shoulders.
“False marketing. Totally not as exciting as I thought he would be…” And there’s the Jane I know.
I don’t look at my phone until an hour later when I’m in my bed, and there’s a DM from Quentin with his phone number asking me to call him as soon as I see this. I stare at the numbers, willing my brain to find an acceptable answer to what I think he wants to ask me. I got nothing.
When Jane’s message makes my phone beep my heart leaps out of my chest from thinking it’s Quentin. ”He messaged me over on facebook and asked for your number, I gave it to him. He’s gonna call soon.” Why does she think she has a right to get involved in my life? God! I hate her!
My phone lights up and shows me an unknown number. My heart stops. My lungs refuse oxygen. I watch my finger slide over the screen, accepting the call.
“Hello?” Why is my voice so ridiculously breathless?
“Leah?” My name on his lips turn my insides to sparkly bubbles.
“Yeah. Hi.”
“Why’d you run off?” He’s disappointed. “You could have said goodbye you know. I thought we had something… I don’t know.” How do I explain something I don’t fully understand?
“Ehm. Yeah. We had a curfew to get home to.” Worst excuse in the history of bad excuses. He doesn’t say anything. I don’t say anything. There’s just the sound of someone quietly breathing in my ear.
“Leah?”
“Quentin?” I giggle as we start speaking at the same time. Quentin chuckles and I feel the tension leaving my body. “I am sorry I ditched you at the party, but I didn’t know what to do. This is kinda unbelievable.”
“Unbelievable? That I like you is unbelievable?” He snorts. “If I didn’t know how screwed up you are I’d be insulted.”
“I’m not screwed up! ...much.” Quentin begins to laugh and if he didn’t have such an infectious laugh I would have been pissed off.
“Babe, you’re a total headcase, but that’s one of the things I love about you.” Time stops. Did he just use the L-word to describe his feelings towards me? How do I feel about that? He’s talking but I can’t hear a word. “Leah? Are you still there?”
“Yeah.” My voice a whisper.
“Uhm… I’m outside your house. Shane lent me his car. Can you come out?” It’s 2.30AM and I know I won’t be sleeping even if we were to say goodbye.
“Sure.” I hang up and get out of bed. My full length mirror shows me a girl in ratty yoga pants and a too big t-shirt, sloppily removed makeup and her hair in a messy bun. Should I make an effort? Smirking I step into an old pair of trainers and sneak downstairs.
The door to my parent’s room is closed, the house quiet and dark, the street empty. Shane’s black Camaro is parked on the curb behind my old Ford and Quentin is standing there, casually leaning against the side of the muscle car. I can’t get over the fact how handsome he is. Our eyes meet and he gives me an unsure smile, which has me falling into his arms and devouring his mouth. Pressing my body against his feels too good, I want to crawl into his arms, into him, feel what he’s feeling, know what he’s thinking. He pulls back, looking all cute and serious and I have to bite my lip not to smile.
“Is this you telling me you want us to give this a try, or are you just giving me something to remember you by?” I raise my hand and cup his cheek, feeling the stubble tickle my fingers.
“You know. We never did say goodbye.” He looks worried. “But I’m fine with that, I really never want to say goodbye anyway.” My hand works its way back to his neck, tangling his hair with my fingers I pull him closer, until we’re only a breath apart. “Let’s do this Captain.” His mouth claims mine before I finish speaking.
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