River
My mother managed to sort Lea out. It wasn't anything serious – nothing broke, and the swelling should go down in a few days - but I had to be sure. Maybe I overreacted, but it looked bad. So, after getting my mother to speak to the school and ask for an afternoon off for Lea and me, we both said goodbye, and now we're heading home.
I'm still holding onto Lea's hand, and I really don't want to let go of it.
I don't know - I'm not sure what I feel at the moment, especially with the breakup with Georgia. But all I know is that I want to be close to Lea.
That's why this morning when I heard the Wilson's discussing properties that they'd be willing to rent out while their house gets rebuilt, I got a little bit uneasy.
I want Lea to stay in my house.
We finally get to the car, and I reluctantly let go of her hand. Climbing into the car and starting the engine, I start to back out of the space.
"Thank you." She says quietly, after securing herself in with the seatbelt.
I turn to her, confused.
"Why are you thanking me?" I ask, slightly shocked.
"You didn't have to do that; it was sweet of you." She explains. She doesn't look at me; instead, she stares out of the window at the bypassing houses that line the road I'm driving down.
"Aren't I always sweet?" I smirk at her, peeling my eyes off the road for a split second, catching hers when she looks at me.
"Well, you're a bit of a dickhead too." She mocks, turning back to the view outside this car.
"That's kind of true." I agree, chuckling.
"Kind of?" She says, as smugly as I did.
We both laugh. Hers is beautiful.
Her face is just as attractive, but I don't want to look at her; it'll only make me sullen, knowing that we might not even have a chance, even if I'm single now. I shove the thought to the back of mind and turn on a serious note.
"Are you ever going to tell me who hit you?" I question, all humor leaving my voice.
She sighs, again staring out of the window – her hands tightly wrapped around the seatbelt, which hugs her upper body. She gently kicks at her school bag that rests between her feet; maybe she's nervous.
"It doesn't matter, River."
"Of course it does."
"You can't do anything about it now," she huffs.
Reticent, I struggle to think of the right thing to say next. If she doesn't want to tell me, then she doesn't have to.
"Fine," I respond, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "You don't have to tell me, but can you promise me one thing?"
"Well, that depends on what the promise is." She replies, hesitantly.
"Promise me, that if Georgia does anything to harm you again, you tell me straight away, and don't hide it from me," I tell her.
Her straight lips part as her jaw drops marginally. Fidgeting in her seat, she tries to cover up her surprise. "How do you know it was Georgia? It might've been someone else."
"Don't bullshit me, Lea." I scoff. "It's happened before," I mumble under my breath, not meaning for her to hear it.
But she does.
"What do you mean it's happened before?" She repeats my words, her eyebrows creasing together.
This is not where I intended to lead the conversation.
"Doesn't matter." I shake my head, concentrating on the road ahead – since everyone's at work or school, it's pretty quiet on the streets.
"You can't just say that. When has this happened before?" She inquires, more eager to find the answer this time.
"I don't want to talk about this." I groan, rubbing the left side of my face.
"Was it with Flo? Did you cheat on Georgia with Flo as well, and then she got her head punched in too?" She speaks with such venom that her words almost bite at my eardrums.
"How do you know about Flo?"
"Does it really matter how I know?"
A heavy sigh escapes me; this hasn't been a good day.
"Well then? Who is she and what happened?"
I scratch the back of my head in irascibility at the memory of Flo. "She was a friend."
"Who you kissed?"
I swallow, "I liked her."
"Just like you like me, right?" She scoffs, unbelieving.
I hate the way the mood between can change from good to bad within just a few seconds.
"No, it wasn't like that. I mean, I—" I try to speak, but I'm lost for words. I don't know what to say. "Lea, look. I'm not perfect, and I'm far from good. I've cheated, several times, and I'm not going to deny that anymore. Flo and I, it was a mistake. The kiss was a big mistake, but word managed to get around, and Georgia found out. They were best friends, and obviously, Georgia was heartbroken – so she hit her." I lick my parched lips.
"But when I kissed you, Lea, although it wasn't the right thing to do, I don't regret it," I say, my voice shaky.
Man, this is harder than trying to tell her that I liked her.
"The difference between you and Flo is that I wish I'd never kissed her. It ruined our friendship, and after a few weeks, she disappeared to Australia. I haven't heard back from her ever since."
I can tell she's getting nervous besides me by the way she keeps squeezing and fiddling with the seatbelt.
"Aren't you going to say anything?" I ask, my voice seems weaker than I hoped.
Her eyes dart from the car in front of us to fix in my gaze. The car comes to a halt in the red traffic lights.
"Why did you cheat?"
I rub at my face again – these questions are getting too deep for my liking.
"Because..." I sigh, hating myself for my past mistakes. "There's no excuse; I was just stupid and inconsiderate."
We stare at each other for a few moments, until the lights turn green and I have to face forward again. But I swear, I feel as if she wants to confess that she likes me too, yet is too afraid to say it.
***
Lea
For the past week, I've been going to school in the car with River, mainly talking about the weather and our upcoming March exams. But nothing as serious as what we were talking about in the car on our way home on Monday. I guess this distance is good for us so that we both can get over the futile feelings we have for each other.
Every time I go to school, I'm effortful in concealing my face from all my classmates. The last thing I want is to have the rumor of being brutally punched whisked around the school. With a little help from Brenda's makeup and my hair as a shield, no one has spotted the bruise yet. Plus, it's slightly going down as the days go on.
"Maths on Monday, then Chemistry on Tuesday, then Art on Friday. Okay, I'm going to be okay." I mumble to myself, as I filter through my project folders.
Preparing for exams is – for me - the most stressful and daunting period of my life, so far.
"Shit." I snap, remembering that I left my Chemistry textbook in school. "Crap, crap, crap." I sigh, biting forcefully at my lip.
This is not good.
"Need some help?" A voice speaks from the entrance of the study, which I've left open.
Malcolm offered to give me the whole study to prepare for my upcoming exams. It has a computer, a projector, a white board, and a grand desk with the most comfortable chair, fit for a world leader, not a high school student. Bookshelves wind around the walls, their height as tall as the room itself and are filled to the brim with all sorts of books. So, of course, like any typical studious being, I took up his offer.
River's voice in the doorway, however, startles me so much that I end up jumping in the process of turning to face him. On top of the fright, his angelic face also makes my heart flutter. When I need to revise, I can't have any distractions – and River seems to be a huge distraction in my case.
"Uhm, no, I'm fine." I stutter, lying.
"Are you sure?" He asks, crossing his arms over his chest as if to say he doesn't believe a word I say.
I sigh, "I just forgot my Chemistry textbook, that's all.
He chuckles, a smirk pulling at his mouth. Walking into the study, rounding one of the leather armchairs, he scans the bookshelf to his left, eyeing the titles carefully. Finally, his trailing finger stops in front of a large textbook. He removes the hardback from the shelve, making the other books either side fall onto each other. Reading the title, he starts towards the desk at which I'm sat and drops the book in front of me. It slaps the table with a thud.
I glance down at the title; it's the same as mine that I've left at school. Instantly, a rush of relief sores through me.
"Thank you." I breathe, opening the book to the title page.
"No problem." He smirks back, pursing his lips slightly. "Now get revising, you don't want to fail."
And with those last few words, River exits the study and softly closes the door behind him.
I inhale, forcing my heart to calm down.
Focus on Chemistry, the subject, and not the kind of chemistry that you have with River.
I let the air filter out of my nose, closing my eyes.
"I can't fail. I can't fail. I can't fail."
***
It's the day of the Maths exam, and it's okay to say that I'm shitting my pants. Yes, that's how I feel. Plus, I don't know how many times I've swallowed, trying to digest the nervousness – but nothing that I do is helping me recover right now.
River pulls up into school, parking his car in the closest parking space there is.
I still haven't quite gotten used to all the curious eyes haunting us, and I'm pretty sure that River has noticed it all the other days he's given me a ride to school. But, it doesn't seem to bother him as much as it bothers me. I get all embarrassed and flustered at the mere thought of having half the student-body stare at us, yet he seems as cool as a cucumber. I guess he's used to it.
Ignoring all the eyes planted in our direction, I undo my seatbelt with one hand, while the other grabs my school bag. This morning, I went through my pencil-case at least five times, making sure that I have all the necessary equipment for this exam.
"Have you got everything?" River asks, reaching into the back seat to grab his bag as well.
"Yeah, you?"
He smiles, tapping against his black backpack. "Checked everything a billion times."
I laugh, "me too."
He's distracting you! Focus. Focus. Focus.
"Let's go," River says, opening his door and stepping out of this car.
Keeping my eyes focused on the tarmac as I climb down from the car, River and I trek side-by-side towards the school hall, where the exams take place. And I swear, when I see the two large double doors, I almost faint. I examine the long line of students that start to file into the doors, which are held open by two teachers.
Why are the teachers holding the doors open and smiling like that? Are they enjoying the fact that they're welcoming us to our doom?
"Good luck." River whispers down at me, looking straight ahead at the wide open doors.
I smile, feeling a breeze of calmness cool me down.
What is annoying yet very welcomed is the fact that his simple words can calm me down so easily.
"You too," I reply, just before we get to the doors.
I smile half-heartedly at the teachers either side of me before stepping into the hall and finding my way to my designated desk. River does the same, but since his name is further up in the register, he sits near the front, while I'm near the back. As I sit down, I place my clear pencil case on the desk before me. Then, I look up to face the front of the hall where a Maths teacher is reading out the instructions on the front of the exam paper.
Only once she's finished, does she allow us to start the paper. Rapidly, I turn the first page, and I see a question that I've practiced several times before. I smile, feeling a little more content.
And, as I do the rest of the questions, River's voice is in my mind, repeating itself regularly – as it seems to be the only thing that's keeping me relaxed.
"Good luck." River's voice echoes in my head.
Good luck.
***
I let my body fall onto the bed in relief and satisfaction.
March exams are over.
Art was the last examination today; it's been precisely a week and a day after my first chemistry exam, and thank God it's gone faster than I anticipated. Now that they're all over, it's as if a massive weight has lifted off my shoulders. I stare happily at the ceiling of this guest room, too excited and in utter disbelief at the fact that I've finished some of the most important exams in my life.
These dictate where I will go to university, what I will study. These are my future.
Puffing air out through my lips, I sit up on the bed, looking around the room. It's a shame I'm going to have to leave this luxurious house sooner or later. I'm quite surprised my parents haven't already found another place. Since exams have occupied my brain for the past few weeks, I haven't thought of asking them how the house-hunting process is going.
My head spins to face the balcony of the guest room, and I find myself tempted to open the glass doors to step out onto white concrete. I'm in need of a little fresh air.
So, I push myself off of the mattress, making it spring back into its original undented position, then head towards the doors. With a turn of the handle, I slide the glass door open. Instantly, the air whisks around in my hair, pushing it back and off my face.
I breathe in, happily. The view, my happiness, and all these other feelings combined make me want to grin like a fool. For once, in a long time, I feel okay. Nothing is confusing, and nothing is wrong, everything is stable – for now.
Georgia hasn't bothered me since exams started, apart from the occasional glare, but I can deal with that. I haven't spoken to River in a while, I mean a proper conversation that lasts for more than a few seconds, but that's all right as well.
I step onto the concrete floor of the balcony and lean on the ridge, staring in amazement at the impressive view beyond my eyes. However, I hear a strange noise to my right; someone is clearing their throat.
Immediately, my head twists in the direction of the sound, consequently making my eyes meet the side of River's face. He doesn't study art, so he finished his exams last week. Thus, he's been home all day – and that's pretty evident as he's still dressed in his boxers, with a white vest top. His golden hair in a miss on his head, but I'm not complaining; he looks sexy.
Nonetheless, there is something placed in his hand that makes me cringe so much, that I have to turn away.
"You smoke?" I ask, thoroughly disgusted.
His eyes dart to mine in surprise – he probably thought that he was alone out here. Then, he glances back at the cigarette placed between his thumb and index finger.
"No." He replies, monotonous.
"Well, it's pretty obvious that you do," I say, gesturing to the goddamn cigarette in his hand.
"No, Lea, I'm smoking, present tense. That doesn't mean I smoke." He explains as if it's the most apparent thing in the world.
"What's the difference?"
He sighs, rubbing at his face in annoyance.
"The difference is that I don't usually smoke, I just have the occasional cigarette. I'm not a smoker, I just felt like having a puff or two." He turns away from me and looks at the view of his back garden instead. Something seems to be bothering him.
Shouldn't he be happy like I am?
"Whatever. That stuff is gross." I add, uncrossing my arms and leaning them against the ridge of the concrete balcony.
He looks at me again with his eyebrows raised, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "I get it, lung cancer and what not," he says, dismissing the seriousness of it.
Carefully, he brings the cigarette to his lip, still staring me right in the eye. I sense him inhaling as his shoulders heave upwards, then he brings the cigarette away from his mouth. With a slight smile, he exhales – allowing the smoke to whiz around the air circling him. My eyes never leave his.
Something is bothering him; I can feel it.
Don't ask him, don't ask him, don't ask him.
"Are you okay?"
Why don't you ever listen to this logical voice inside your head?
The smugness vanishes from his face, the smile disappears. He looks at me for a good few moments, examining my eyes in the same way that I'm examining his – trying to find out what's wrong with him.
"Yeah, everything's fine." He lies.
But I can't question him anymore because he walks into his bedroom and shuts the doors behind him.
***