37
I managed about three hours of anxiety dreams before hauling myself out of bed around ten the next morning. I didn’t need to be in school until the maths exam the day afterwards, and my parents had taken Nicky prom dress shopping, so the house was quiet when I tiptoed down to find breakfast.
‘Hey.’
I swivelled around from where I was rummaging in the fridge to see Jonah dressed in a crumpled white T-shirt and dark jeans. For reasons that were possibly as twisted as the rest of this situation, I couldn’t stop looking at his bare feet.
I glanced down at my own feet, which looked perfectly normal. I’d put on a sundress covered in pastel flowers with a swirly skirt that reached halfway down my thigh. It was deliciously daring enough to make me feel almost, sort of beautiful.
‘I was thinking about pancakes,’ I said, trying to sound as if yesterday hadn’t happened but probably failing due to my nerves having gone haywire.
‘Perfect. I’m an excellent tosser.’
I twisted my head to the side, raising my eyebrows in an ‘excuse me?’ gesture.
‘Okay. Delete that. I need caffeine before I say anything else.’
He padded over to the kettle and switched it on, leaning back against the worktop and unashamedly watching as I measured flour into a bowl, then whisked in milk and eggs.
‘Didn’t sleep well?’ I asked, eventually, my scrambled brain unable to come up with anything more inspiring.
‘What do you think?’ He twisted up his mouth in wry amusement. ‘I was in the garden at midnight.’
‘Oh. If I’d known…’
‘No, you wouldn’t.’ He poured the now boiling water on top of the instant granules and sugar, and walked over to where the milk sat on the countertop in front of me.
‘I probably wouldn’t.’
‘But you were awake, too?’
‘Only until about five.’ I shrugged, with an exaggerated blasé smile.
‘What’s the plan for today, then?’
I checked the oil in the frying pan was hot and ladled in a scoop of batter.
‘Revising? Trying not to panic about all the revision I should have done earlier?’ I darted my eyes at him before focussing back on the pancake. ‘Thinking about you every ten seconds and freaking out about what I’m going to do.’
‘Only every ten seconds?’ He stepped close enough for his bare arm to brush against mine. ‘I’m hurt.’
‘What areyourplans, then?’
‘Oh, I don’t know now. Yours sound better. I think I’ll switch.’
So we spent the rest of the morning, a picnic lunch that I insisted Jonah ate with me in the garden on a blanket, and half the afternoon talking, flirting, gazing bashfully at each other and valiantly not mentioning anything to do with where this washeading while occasionally flipping open a maths study guide and scanning a question we were too distracted to try to answer.
I’d thought endlessly about what it would feel like to spend time like this with Jonah. Alone, with no threat of being discovered or making a fool of myself.
I’d never imagined it would be like this. Easy, peaceful and fun all at the same time. It waslight. As if us being together dispelled all the darkness tormenting his soul.
‘So, those notes in my pocket?’ He laughed, after I’d been teasing him about his hair, which had grown almost to his shoulders, and he’d shown me where he planned to get a jackal tattooed across one side of his chest. ‘Did you get those ideas off the Samaritans website or what?’ We were lying next to each other on the blanket, and he elbowed me in the ribs, making me squirm.
‘So, those songs in the car? Did you specifically search iTunes in order to send me secret messages, or what?’
I poked him back, but he grabbed my wrist, pulling me up against him so that I ended up half lying on his chest.
Oh boy.
