‘I did. Yes.’ He moved his hand to entwine his fingers around mine. ‘You could have given me a sign that you’d noticed, instead of torturing me with your silence.’
‘I wrote more notes, didn’t I?’
‘Because you don’t want me to die,’ he said, his voice dropping.
‘It’s safe to say that I don’t, no. That would be pretty horrible for everyone.’
‘But youreallywant me to stay alive. Not just because it would be a horrible thing to happen to a foster kid.’
‘What, you mean because I’d miss you?’ I asked, trying to sound playful as I wrinkled my nose, because Jonah talking about this so calmly chilled me to the bone.
He wasn’t joking around, though.
‘Tell me that you’d miss me.’
I took in a deep breath. My ribcage pushed against his chest, warm and solid beneath me. As I let it go, I could feel his heart thumping.
‘I already miss you,’ I said. ‘I miss you when you hide in your bedroom for days on end. When you turn in the opposite direction to avoid me in the corridor at school. When I creep down to the garden at night and you’re not here. Or I hang about for a pathetically long time in the kitchen, but you don’t show up. The thought of you moving somewhere else, where I can’t accidentally bump into you on the stairs, makes me miss you so hard I can somehow pretend I’m happy for you to stay as my foster brother. As Bronah. The thought of you never being here? Jonah, if you died, half my heart would die with you.’
I tried to sit up, but he tugged me back down again, his eyes scanning my face.
‘I know it’s crazy, I’ve only known you a few months, and I’m sixteen and never had a boyfriend and we’ve not even kissed or anything yet. But I can’t help it. I feel… I like you even more than Carlos Romero, and he had to move schools because of me.’
‘Shut up.’ Jonah smiled, reaching his head up and pressing his lips against mine.
It was my first kiss.
From the way his mouth progressed the gentle peck into something deeper, his hand cradling the back of my head as he pulled me even closer, I guessed it wasn’t his.
After a while he expertly nudged me onto my back, bracing himself on his elbow as he paused to stroke the hair off my forehead before smiling at me, waiting for me to smile then bending to kiss me again.
A sound from another garden caused me to freeze, pulling back as panic pulsed through my veins.
‘It’s someone closing a car door. Not here.’
I glanced to the side. It was nearly three o’clock. Who knew what time everyone would be home?
‘Let’s go inside,’ he said, pressing a kiss against the side of my neck that sent more shivers across my skin.
Not wanting to break the spell, we gathered up our things and scurried up to his bedroom, where we carried on as before until the unmistakable chug of Dad’s car sounded the alarm.
‘How are you feeling about tomorrow?’ Mum asked after Nicky had shown me her gorgeous dark red dress and we’d sat down for reheated chicken casserole because no one could be bothered to cook after a long day.
‘Okay.’ I shrugged. ‘Could be better.’
‘Could be worse?’ Dad asked, hopefully. ‘How about you, Jonah? Did you have a productive final revision day?’
‘I did, thanks.’ Jonah nodded. ‘I learned a lot more than I expected.’
‘Excellent!’ Mum beamed. ‘You might get that pass after all.’
‘Way to sound encouraging, Mum.’ Nicky snorted. ‘You might, Bronah, if every question happens to be precisely what you studied, and there’s a full moon and the invigilator doesn’t spot the list of equations smuggled in your sock, you might, just, possibly, sort of pass!’ She ended brightly, with a perfect imitation of our mother.
‘I didn’t mean that!’ Mum laughed, always happy to be the butt of our jokes because she’d seen far too many tears around this table. ‘I was trying not to up the pressure and stress Bronah out.’
‘Ew, Mum!’ Nicky groaned. ‘You can’t call him that.’
‘Why not?’ Mum asked, flummoxed. ‘It’s his nickname, isn’t it? Libby calls him that.’
