Page 12 of My Heart to Find

CHAPTER SIX

Cara

“IAM GOING TO KILLyou.” I stare at Esme the Earache then back at my phone. She touched my phone—actuallytouchedit.

And no one’s allowed to touch my phone.Ican’t even touch my phone sometimes.

My breaths come in ragged bursts, and my vision dims around the edges. My pounding heart seems to get faster and faster, and—oh, God! I’m going to faint. Going to fall on the floor—thestickykitchen floor—and get more and more covered in....in bad stuff.

I take a deep breath. Need to pull myself together. Can’t faint here. Can’t panic.

But my preciousphone!

I focus on what’s on the screen. Damien’s reply:Wonderful, I’m in High Court Flats, meet outside them?It’s a reply to a text I most definitely did not send.

“Oh, come on, you’ve been mentioning him all slyly all day. And how he wanted you to show him round, then moaning about your OCD. Just get out there.” Esme gives me a cheeky look.

“I thought you were supposed to be ill.” I give her a look, but I feel strange—because that was why I was mentioning Damien, wasn’t it? Because I like him. I definitely do. Seeing him again definitely taught me that.

“You can still help others when you’re ill.” There’s something about how Esme’s tone darkens that makes me think this is a dig at me. I’ve had Lyme disease for just under three years. Esme was ten years old when I got it, and for a long time, she refused to understand why I couldn’t just play with her as I used to. Mum is always reminding her that my brain has now gone wrong, just like my body did, all because the tick that bit me had a disease.

“And you’ll have fun,” she says. “And then you’ll get better.”

I give her a weak smile, head up to my room, clean my phone four times, and then message Raymond. My fingers feel strange as I type, sort of buzzing from the inside. I flex them several times before hitting ‘send’ on the message.

You’ll never guess what Esme’s done?

What?

Only gone and set me up on a date!!!

There’s a pause, in which I wait for his reply, but then my phone vibrates. Video call through Messenger. Raymond always prefers video. His Lyme disease makes his fingers inflamed which doesn’t help his juvenile arthritis. Speaking is easier for him.

I have a moment of panic about how scruffy I look, and how messy my room is, before answering. Not like I can run a brush through my hair—add that to my list of OCD curses.

“Hi,” Raymond says. His face fills my screen. He’s Black, has red-tipped box braids and statement glasses that make him look so much cooler than me.

“Hey,” I say, and my voice squeaks. I always get nervous speaking on video calls. Or any calls really—I find written word easier. I can take my time then to write an articulate answer—or an answer as articulate as I can manage—whereas speaking puts me on the spot. And sometimes it’s okay—like now, my brain doesn’t feel like it’s fully of sludgy mud—but other times I can barely string a sentence together and then my voice betrays me when I actually try to speak.

“So, a date?” Raymond asks. “Who with? Spill!”

“Okay.” I sit on the edge of my bed and hold my phone a little higher, trying to make the lighting on my camera better. “You remember me mentioning Damien?”

“Damien? As in Damien who you were too scared to text and then tragically lost his number? That Damien?”

“Yes.” I quickly explain what Esme’s done.

It’s such a cliché to say, but I’ve definitely got butterflies in my stomach just thinking about the date tomorrow. The date withDamien.

Raymond’s eyes are wide. “No way. You going to go?”

I swallow hard. My throat is a little sore—but that’s nothing new. My lymph nodes are often swollen now. “I don’t know—like, I’m terrified. Actuallyterrified.”

“But it would be good for you, right? You still like him?”

Of courseI do. But it’s complicated. It’s not like I could have a relationship with him now or anything. And just the thought of it—of having to cuddle someone, and more—because he’ll still want to kiss, won’t he?

Even though we both identify as ace, it doesn’t mean we’re both never going to touch, if something were to happen between us. Asexuality is a spectrum, and it includes a whole host of different identities. A lot of aces kiss and touch and some have sex. I think of Jana. She’s gray-ace and she’s told me she does like sex, she just doesn’t feel sexual attraction that often and when she does, it’s low-intensity.

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