"Your actions make me pick petals to determine our love..."
– Nautica
❀❀❀
~ D O R O T H Y ~
January 1998
"Ok, now let's rehearse the scene where Colton and Aspen meet for the first time," Rachel orders, pointing at a page from the script.
William and I are standing on the stage with a copy of the script in hand, facing Rachel. We comply, beginning to recite our dialogues, mostly from memory. Passionate, William is so engrossed in his role that it takes me by surprise when he sheds actual tears as he vents the woes of his character's miserable life.
He is so talented.
When the time comes for us to sing, wide-eyed Jenny dashes onto the stage, towards me, with a ripped-open envelope in hand.
"GUYYYSSSSS," she screams, catching everyone's attention, before she screeches to a halt right in front of me.
"Woah, you ok?" I ask, shooting my hands out to steady her.
She takes a deep breath in before she bursts.
"LUCAS WRIGHT HAS ACCEPTED OUR INVITATION!"
Gasps.
Everywhere.
"Can you believe this?" she continues, jumping up and down. "He will be here in person. He will watch our play! IN PERSON! "
"This is unbelievable," William says.
"Oh my gosh," I breathe out, squealing with her.
William joins us too, and the three of us clasp our hands together and jump in a circle. At this point, a lot of the members have gathered around us, including Rachel, who has a small smile.
"Anchor is being adapted as a film," Jenny informs all of us. "Lucas Wright himself is directing it, so I'm sure he's really busy these days. I honestly can't believe that he is actually willing to set aside the time to attend our play."
"We have to be amazing," I say.
"We have to be more than just bloody amazing!" Jenny exclaims.
"The pressure is on now," William adds, facing the crowd.
"Indeed," Rachel says.
"But what's important is that we try our ultimate best and have the most fun as possible," Jenny adds.
"What's going on here?" a masculine voices suddenly pipes in.
The four of us turn our heads to face Nolan, who emerges from the crowd.
"Lucas Wright will watch our play in person!" Jenny replies, grinning at him with twinkling eyes.
"Lucas who?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows.
"Lucas Wright," she states, now frowning. "The author of the book that we're basing our play on."
"What book?"
"You're joking, right?"
He shrugs before his eyes land on the indifferent Rachel, who is standing with her arms crossed. He clears his throat, before he continues to speak.
"Perhaps Barns can spare a few minutes and tell me all about it–"
"I am busy," Rachel states coldly.
After a short while, when everyone disperses from the stage, Rachel announces that she has to check on the progress of the props backstage. As William and I resume our rehearsal, Jenny tugs on my arm.
"There's something going on between them," she whispers to me, eyeing Nolan, who is silently following Rachel to the backstage.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"We have to follow them."
"What? Why? William and I need to rehear–"
It's too late. She pulls me with her as we make our way backstage. William, who is confused and curious, follows us. When we stop, the thick maroon curtains separate the three of us from Nolan and Rachel, but we can hear their conversation clearly.
"...just a few minutes," we hear Nolan say. "It's not like the world is gonna end–"
"I am busy," Rachel interrupts coldly.
"Why do you keep avoiding me?"
"I simply do not wish to waste my time by spending it with you."
"Why the hell not?" he snaps. "Do you think I'm so stupid that I'm not even worth your time?"
"And breath?" she adds for him. "Why yes, precisely."
"I am not stupid," he growls.
"If believing that helps you sleep at night, then do not let me stop you."
"I am not stupid!" he yells, his tone startling the three of us.
"What do you want from me?" she sighs.
"Isn't it obvious?"
"Not as obvious as your level of stupidity."
"Hell, Barns!" he bellows.
"Now, now. That is a bit too harsh. I would personally set the level a bit lower than that."
He lets out a deep breath, probably in an attempt to maintain composure.
"I don't think anyone has ever frustrated me as much as you have."
"Really? I am truly honoured," she drawls, before we hear her footsteps.
"Can't you see that I want your attention?!" he suddenly blurts, dissipating the sound of her footsteps. "That I want you to think about me just as much as I think about you. That I want you to be curious about me just as I am about you. That I want to kiss your lips until they swell. That I want to claim your uneven boobs. That I want you to scream my name in pleasure as I do unspeakable things to you. That I want you. All of you. Just you."
And just like that, the three of us pale.
Good gosh... That is very... crude.
"This has gotten a little too much for me, so I'll just head out," William whispers awkwardly, before he tiptoes away from us.
I feel for the poor kid. I wish I can leave too, but Jenny is holding onto my hand quite firmly, absolutely engrossed. That's the thing about Jenny; she lives for the drama, and right before us is the epitome of drama – her happy place.
"Why are you quiet?" Nolan asks. "Don't you have anything to say about my confession?"
Silence.
Absolute silence.
That is understandable. This must have been very unexpected for Rachel. If I were Nolan, I'd fear for my life. This is Rachel Barns, the girl who is not afraid of expressing her disapproval – even her murderous intentions.
"Well?" Nolan pushes.
"I think of you," she admits in a low voice.
"Really?" he gasps, taken aback.
"I do," she continues. "I think of hundreds of different ways to kill you. As for my curiosity of you, the only thing I am curious about is how you managed to live this long without contracting an STD. And the only thing my lips will kiss is my acceptance letter. My uneven boobs are mine, and mine alone. And the only time I will scream your name in pleasure is when I skin you alive."
Then we hear four slow footsteps.
"I am absolutely disgusted by your 'confession'," she hisses. "What do you take me for? I am not like Hannah. Or Penelope. Or Daniela. Or Jennifer. Or even that gullible Amelia! I am not some object that you can play with. I refuse to be one of your conquests."
With that said, she huffs before a series of stomps take over. When there is silence, Jenny and I finally lift the curtains and see Nolan standing still, staring blankly at the doorway through which Rachel probably left.
"Nolan?" I speak out, approaching him with Jenny, concerned.
Slowly, he turns his head, his hazel eyes watery.
Gosh, is he actually... hurt?
"Dorothy... Jenny..." he chokes out.
"We heard..." Jenny whispers.
He looks down at the floor.
"Why does my chest feel... heavy? Why does it feel difficult to breathe?" he whispers. "I've never felt this way before..."
"You got rejected," Jenny explains. "It wasn't a... nice one, but your confession was rather... uncouth."
"But I spoke the truth," he says. "I want her."
"Are you sure it's not your lust that's making you want her?"
He shakes his head.
"Because your history does not suggest otherwise."
"I like her," he reveals. "I... I never felt this way before. Yes, I admit, I played around with a lot of girls, but none of them made me feel this way."
"What way?"
"Like I want to protect her. To care for her. To do the things that she likes. To discard the things that she does not like. To be her person. Only her person."
"Gasp!" Jenny says dramatically. "Has the Nolan Smith finally found his one true love?"
"I don't love her. I just... like her. A lot. I mean, Barns saved my life when no one else even tried to, minus you, Dorothy."
I shoot him a smile.
It makes me happy that Nolan cares about Rachel, provided that he is very serious, which he appears to be.
"What else do you like about her?" Jenny asks, smitten with his love sickness.
"I like that she's different."
"How so?"
"She... She does not respond like the other girls do. She is smart and she is not afraid to voice her opinions. She is not showy or flashy. She's... natural. Heh... I can't really explain it well."
"You really do like her," I say, to which he nods. "You have to court her."
"Court her?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows.
"You know... Woo her?" I say.
"But how? She hates me. I won't be surprised if she assigns a restraining order against me by the end of today."
"Like you said, Rachel is not like the other girls. You need to try to be her friend first. That way, you'll get to know her better, and she'll know you too. Right now, Rachel sees you as this lustful guy who 'victimises' any girl he comes across, and that's because she barely knows you. I thought you were like that too in the beginning, but because I've been your friend for a while, I know that you are actually a sweet, adorable and caring person. Sure, you can be silly sometimes, but in a cute way."
"...Really?" he says, his spirits lifting.
"Really," I say.
Jenny nods in agreement, patting Nolan's back.
"Then how do I become her friend?" he asks.
"Just like how we became friends," I reply, smiling warmly at him. "Keep it slow and natural."
He ponders for a bit before he nods, understanding, optimistic.
***
I am lying down on Reece's bed, re-reading Anchor to reinforce my memory and also to interpret Aspen's character more deeply, while Reece is showering. He had football practice and chose not to shower at Hampton because he wanted to jog home, as a part of his exercise, and then shower.
I flip the page, hooked. I hate to admit it but, the more I read the book and rehearse the play, the more I am able to relate the feelings Colton has for Aspen. It's strange because, at first, I thought that Colton's obsession with Aspen is unhealthy – toxic even! – but as I spend more time with Reece, I realise that maybe, just maybe, I'm becoming a little obsessed with him.
It has been just over a week since Reece and I shared our first kiss and, since then, we have not kissed again. It's not because I hated it. On the contrary, I found it... indescribable, in a very, very good way. I just was not able to muster up enough courage to do it again.
I hate to admit it, but at times, I find myself spacing out and thinking of our kiss. There were even moments when he and I would be together and I would catch myself staring at his lips, but I would never initiate anything. Whether Reece caught me staring is questionable, but I choose to believe that he never did or else I would be extremely embarrassed.
It's just... I'm not used to this sort of thing. Being intimate with someone physically. I've never done such a thing, owing to St. Anne's being an all-girls boarding school and a pretty strict one.
Although Reece and I have not kissed again, we have become sort of inseparable. We'd almost always spend every evening together, whether to study, go someplace to eat or explore, or go for a simple walk. No matter how banal the activity, we always find ourselves enjoying it – even when we did grocery shopping on behalf of our mothers.
To be honest, it sometimes scares me that in such a short amount of time, we have become quite attached to each other. Ok, yes, I admit: it isn't exactly short, considering that we've known each other for years when we were kids.
But still.
I fear that I'm getting too dependent on him, that I'm getting... addicted to him. This would mean that I would not be able to handle it well if we are to ever sever our connection. For now, it seems almost impossible for us to separate. But what if his secret gets out and it turns out to be so dark that it compels us to break apart? Though I have vowed to never leave him, no matter what the secret is, what if he decides to leave me?
No, he wouldn't.
...Right?
Shaking my head at my ambivalent thoughts, I try to focus on the book. When I finish reading a chapter, I drop the book on the bedside table and get up from the bed to stretch. While I am stretching, my eyes focus on Reece's cupboard.
I have a whole stock of them in the cupboard.
My curiosity peaks.
No. No. No.
I shouldn't snoop. I trust Reece. I really do. I want him to tell me when he feels ready.
...But my curiosity gets the best of me, and I find myself slowly opening the door.
I briefly skim through his clothes, which are neatly hung together. I then investigate the floor of the cupboard.
Shoes. A football. A few books scattered here and there. Boxes of pens. Worksheets spilling out of folders. Unusually tall stacks of plain paper.
But nothing suspicious, like opaque bags, face masks or even traces of powder.
It's just an ordinary cupboard of a male teenager.
Something red, however, catches my eye.
I pick up one of the worksheets, frowning.
It's actually a test. A maths test. The most recent one.
And written in bold red is...
100%.
I skim through the questions with wide eyes. All of the solutions are written meticulously, leaving no doubt in his perfect score. However, the questions are those that I have not covered with him yet. In fact, they are an extension of Trigonometry. If Reece had been struggling with the basics of Trigonometry – which is the case and the reason why I was asked by Mr. Martin to tutor him – then it is simply impossible for him to understand further Trigonometry, let alone score full marks.
So my question is...
How on earth did Reece manage to score 100% on the test?
"If you're looking for my underwear, I'm afraid they're in the drawer," a deep, masculine voice says, startling the heck out of me.
I face the doorway where Reece is standing with his arms crossed and an amused smile playing on his face. His dark hair is drench. He is wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a black jumper. A dark grey towel is hanging from his neck.
For a second, I stare at him in awe, but then my jaw drops the moment his words are processed in my head.
"No! I wasn't... I'm not... This isn't... Huh?"
He throws his head back as he chuckles at my confusion and shock. He then approaches me and gently takes my hand, pulling me up to stand before he brings me close to his chest. Since he is so close to me, the fresh smell of eucalyptus hits my nostrils, making me weak on the knees. He stares down at my eyes, piercing.
"Should I even ask?" he says with a smile, referring to my snooping. "You can tell me. You don't have to be shy."
"I... I was just curious."
"Then don't hide it," he whispers. "I am yours, after all."
Butterflies immediately erupt in my stomach.
How are his words able to have such an effect on me?
"Stop," I breathe out, as he continues to stare at me.
"Stop what?" he says, acting oblivious.
"Talking like this."
"Like what?" he teases, clearly amused by my squirming.
I look down at the piece of paper in my right hand and, immediately, bring it up to the space between our faces. This form of 'barrier' gives me time and space to compose myself.
"Explain this," I say. "Did you magically become a genius overnight or something? Because I don't recall teaching you any of this."
He plucks the paper from my grasp, revealing his face.
"Well?" I push.
"Promise me you won't get mad?" he says, pursing his lips.
"Oh my gosh, you cheated?!" I say a little too loudly, making him widen his eyes.
"What? No. I do not cheat."
"...Then what?"
He takes a deep breath in.
"When I realised how wrong I was about you, I wanted to make amends," he begins. "I wanted to be with you. Spend time with you. But I knew that you wouldn't allow me to come anywhere near you without a valid reason. When I found out that you signed up to be a tutor, I thought that maybe if you got assigned to me, you would agree to meet me."
He watches me closely, wary of my reaction at this revelation.
But much to his confusion, I only blink.
And I blink again.
"Doroth–"
"So you deliberately failed your maths test just so you can get Mr. Martin to assign me as your tutor?" I interrupt, finally processing the revelation.
"Are you mad?"
Then, the biggest smile makes its way to my face just before I burst into laughter.
"Reece Walker, you are the cheekiest and cutest thing ever," I say, continuing to laugh.
His brown eyes immediately widen.
"You're not mad?"
"Why would I be mad?"
"Because I lied to you."
Yes, he did lie. But it's not a malicious form of lie. It's more of an amusing sort of lie. One that can be told as an anecdote in the future. I mean, Reece failed his exam on purpose just so he can spend time with me. It is bold – it takes guts to fail and suffer the consequences of it – and risky – it can pull down your overall predicted grade.
It shows what I mean to him and that, to him, I am worth failing an exam.
I am flattered, honestly.
"No. Not at all. In fact, I feel so silly!" I continue. "I should have known. I mean, you got an offer from Oxford. Of course you would be really studious."
He then smiles, and my eyes land on his full and kissable lips. Apparently, Reece notices that I'm staring because of the next thing he says.
"You do know that you can just grab my face and kiss me, right?" he says, snapping me out of my little reverie.
I look up at his teasing eyes in shock.
"W-What?" I stutter.
He cups my face with his warm hands, looking directly into my eyes.
"I don't want to force you to do anything," he whispers. "But I caught you staring a few times and I can tell that you want to kiss me. So don't shy away."
Oh gosh, he did notice me staring.
"I'm not... I'm not used to this," I whisper back.
"I know. Take your time. But if you want to kiss me, don't hold back."
"Do you hold back?" I ask, curious.
"Would your lips be bare right now if I wasn't?" he replies huskily.
Oh... My... Gosh...
My cheeks feel warm as my heart rate picks up.
Now I understand.
He wants to kiss me, but he is holding back. It's because he knows that I'm not used to this sort of thing and he is being patient with me. He wants to make sure that I am safe and comfortable around him as much as possible. I really appreciate that. I really do.
And just like that, my trust, respect and love for him grows even more.
Reece then pulls himself away.
"Let's go," he says, taking out a jacket from his cupboard.
"Huh?"
"Did you forget?" he says, handing me his jacket. "It's Friday. You know what that means."
"Oh, yes," I say, grinning.
*~*~*~*~*
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