Page 26 of Unspoken Words
My hands flew to my cheeks. “Oh, really?”
“Do you want to take a seat for a second?” He pointed to a double-storey, brown-brick house across the street. “Or we could just keep going, ‘cause that’s my house, just over there. I’ll get you some water or a Coke or something.”
It would’ve been the perfect opportunity to lie and flee, but I couldn’t leave. I honestly didn’t want to despite how terrified I was of what was to happen next.
I was nearly thirteen and never been kissed.
It was time.
The sudden urge to take out my notebook and write what I was feeling was overbearing, but as I stood under a Wildfire Gum, face to face with Connor, now wasn’t the time for words. It was the time to be brave and drink Coke with the cutest boy I’d ever laid eyes on.
And it was the time to possibly experience my first ever kiss.
Chapter Eight
Connor
Shortly after we arrived atmy house, I offered Ellie a Coke. She was puffing from her spontaneous dash across the road and it worried me, because the distance she’d run wasn’t much farther than a basketball court yet she was clearly exhausted. She didn’t look unfit, and I was positive she didn’t smoke cigarettes.
“You sure you’re all right?” I asked, eyeing her suspiciously as I leaned against our kitchen sink, my arms crossed over my chest, the rim of my Coke can resting against my lips. The urge to reach out and touch her, to offer some form of reassurance, rub her back, maybe even give her mouth-to-mouth was overwhelming. But I didn’t budge. I just hovered like a protective father instead.
Ellie removed her stare from the photos my mum had on our fridge and smiled. “Yes, I’m fine. I just don’t run all that much.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s gross.”
I subdued a laugh. “Gross?”
“Fine, running is stupid. Why run when you can just walk?”
“So you don’t run when you play Netball?”
“Only if I have to. That’s why I play Goal Shooter. Everyone else runs to get the ball to me. I basically stay in one spot.”
“Sounds lazy.”
She shrugged. “It is. But that doesn’t mean I’m not a kick-arse shooter. I don’t need to run.”
“Maybe you’re just unfit,” I taunted.
“No. I told you, it’s just a little bit of asthma.” She straightened her back and pointed at a particular photo. “Is that Aaron?”
“Yep.” I knew the exact photo she was pointing at without even looking. I knew because I’d removed it several times despite my mother insisting it stay put. Thankfully, for her sake and mine, I’d eventually given up the photo-battle not long after meeting Ellie.
“You’re much taller than him.”
“I am. I mean, I was.”
“He has kind eyes. And cool hair.” She smiled a girly smile, the type girls do when they like you. “I like his hair.”
Hearing Ellie say those things about Aaron annoyed me. Made me mad, even. But not mad because she was talking about him like everyone else did. As each day went by, I was getting better at hearing and talking about Aaron. This was different, though, because she was complimenting him and saying the types of things I wanted her to say about me. My hair, for instance, I wanted her to likemyhair.
Reaching up, I skated my fingers over my head.She probably hates my hair and thinks I look like a girl.It was the reason some of the guys from school nicknamed me Jesus. My hair was long, but not as long as Jon Bon Jovi’s hair. It wasn’t as if I needed one of those girly headband things that he wore. That wouldneverhappen.
I hadn’t always worn my hair at the length it currently was. After Aaron’s death, I hadn’t bothered getting it cut. He’d lost his hair against his will, so I didn’t think it was right to just chop off mine as if it were nothing.Maybe I should? Maybe Ellie would like it better if it were short?
Realising I was still touching my hair like one of those idiots in a shampoo ad, I quickly dropped my hand to my side.
