The Wrong Choices

18. Falling.

Chapter eighteen.

Who knew there would be this many presents to wrap in one house? I started wrapping soon after Hunter left and, over an hour later, I'm still wrapping. Looking at the stack of boxes, I can see that I'm more than half way through them. I pick up the next present and pull off the sticky note with my mother's thin writing on it.

'Susan &Martin', she has scribbled. Hunters parents.

My mind inevitably drifts away to Hunter and I remember the feeling of pure disappointment- almost neediness- that I felt when he had to leave this morning. He had spent at least an hour just talking to me, and if he felt awkward, he did a pretty good job of not showing it. I've never talked to someone about Len before without the other person feeling uncomfortable. They try to feign calmness and understanding, but it's easy to tell when people are just trying to make you feel better.

It didn't feel like that today. It felt like he wanted to listen to me, not just because he had to.

Come to think of it, he's listened to me a lot. But I can't call him a friend, in what sort of messed up friendship do people kiss and sleep beside each other? I've only known him a few months yet I've told him things that I never dreamed of sharing with anyone. Things about my parents, about Len, about me.

He's not a friend. He's something much more than a friend- to call him a friend seems so unfair -he's something else, something I can't quite put my finger on.

If he's more than a friend, there's only one thing he could be, my brain tells me.

Do I like him?

All the muscles in my body seem to stop working for a split second but that split second is long enough for the box in my hand to slip out from between my fingers. The ceramic plates inside it rattle against each other and it seems to fall through the air in slow motion, just like I'm falling- but there's a difference, the box is falling to the ground, I'm falling for a person- slowly but surely.

Falling.

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The weekend flies by, giving way to Monday, a bleak day where dark, heavy clouds loom in the sky, promising rain or maybe even snow.

The Christmas show is tonight and my nerves are already getting the better of me. I don't even realise that my fingers are drumming on the dinner table until my mother says it to me.

"Stop!" She hisses, her teeth gritted. My mother is many things, but patient is not one of them. I remember when Theo and I were younger, before Bella was born, how much we would annoy each other and fight over ridiculous things. We would run around the house, screaming and fighting with each other. Our mother could only take so much- which was, in fact, very little- until she would cover her face with her hands and start breathing deeply, trying to calm herself. I've only seen her snap once and let me tell you, it was not pretty.

When she was angry, only one person could ground her, our dad. He would sit beside her on the colourful kitchen chairs, she always picked the green one. I watched them one day, watched him pull her hands away from her face, watched him whisper in her ear until she opened her eyes and looked at him. A small smile lifted her lips and she touched his hand, as if to say thank you. That was before she royally fucked things up with Dad.

"What's wrong with you?" Bella asks, her green eyes wide and inquisitive.

"Nothing, just nervous," I smile at her reassuringly.

"Why?"

My mother cuts in, looking at Bella. "Lilli's singing in a concert tonight, love."

"I wanna go!" Bella says excitedly, bouncing in her seat.