Page 21 of Revive

I turn as the screen door flies open and she bounces her way outside, effectively ending the conversation between her and her mum. Time stands still as I watch her, remembering the little girl she was, running with the boys, to the young woman she is today. The one all the boys want.

I’ve stood in this same spot every day of my life, my brother and my best friend by my side. The three of us living in the moment. Too young to live for more than today. But as I stare, mesmerised by Sasha, I realise this is the first time I’ve ever thought past right now. I see a world of endless possibilities, a world that’s brighter, and full of opportunity. A world I want with her as my girl.

I could bet a million dollars that you won’t find many boys my age declaring forever. Like Jagger, they’re all too busy fumbling around their virginity, desperate to feel more than their own hands. Jagger is the impulsive one out of the two of us. The confident guy with the ladies; the Michaels brother that could flirt before he could talk. I’ve always been content not being the centre of attention. And when it comes to girls and sex, I didn’t have a reputation to live up to, or a desire to start one.

I’m not rushing. I’m not there yet, and Sasha and I, together, definitely haven’t reached that stage. She won’t be my first kiss, but there’s no way anybody but me will take her virginity.

If she’d had sex with anyone else, I would’ve been gutted, and have to get over it. However, knowing she hasn’t, makes me want to stake my claim like a ridiculous caveman, so all she’ll ever know is me.

Hunched over, I lean on my forearms and watch her jump off the last step, and head my way. She tilts her head, her eyes focused on me and the space between her eyes creasing with curiosity. “Whatever’s got you thinking so hard, is going to make us late.”

Chuckling, I place the tip of my index finger between her brows and pretend to rub away her worry. “We’re going to be late anyway. I have something planned.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, looking around like she’ll find a clue. “Where’s Jagger? Isn’t he coming?”

“I told him to meet us there.”

Her frown returns. “So, it’s just going to be me and you?”

I clear my throat, nervousness getting the best of me. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” she gestures with her hands. “Of course not. Just a surprise that’s all.”

Refusing to feel discouraged, I wipe my clammy hands on my jeans, slide them into my pockets and lead the way.

The walk is silent, our bodies close, but our minds definitely running on different wavelengths.

“Drix, you’re being weird. What’s up?”

“We’re almost there, and then I promise, I’ll explain everything.”

We settle into a more comfortable silence as the walk progresses. As we come up to our local park, I find my balls and slide my hand into hers. “This okay?”

Her breath hitches at the contact, and a bashful smile builds as surprise sinks in. “Definitely.” I stop us directly in front of the wooden tree house, positioned next to a huge, and very out of place blue-gum tree. It was solid, stable, and older than the two of us. “Why are we here? You know how much I hate this place.”

“I do, but, I have my reasons.” Squeezing our hands together, I raise my fingers to the top of her forehead and trace the scar I know sits just behind her hairline. “Remember when this happened?”

“Ughh, how could I forget. I was so sure I was going to die. There was so much…”

“Blood,” we say in unison.

“You know, when they kept you in the hospital overnight, Jagger threatened to knock me out cold if I didn’t calm the fuck down and stop worrying about you.”

“You were worried?”

“Fuck, yeah. I was torn between wanting to sleep at the hospital or tear limbs off all the kids that forced you to swing off that rope.”

The summer between our thirteenth and fourteenth birthday, we spent every afternoon here, watching the sunsets, and running amok with all the neighbourhood kids. Besides the treehouse, the park was littered with childlike play equipment. It was beaten down, more of a symbol of our neighbourhood, than having any actual functioning use. The only thing we all obsessed about was the swinging rope. We never knew how it got there, or why it never frayed, or why the thick branch it was wrapped around never bent or broke under our weight. It was our constant. The simple thing that made moments in our childhood seem like that they could, and would last forever.

“It was dumb, and I should’ve known someone as uncoordinated as me was going to chicken out, lose my balance and fall.”

“You want to try it with me now?” I ask.

“What?” Her eyes widen in fear. “Hell no.”

“Come on. It’s just you and me.”

“What if the same thing happens?”

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