Under Rose-Tainted Skies(57)

He’s so sweet. So nice. It pains me to press on with this and shatter the sentiment. I continue pacing.

‘Humour me for just a second?’ I’m a little breathless, so he doesn’t argue. I’m wearing holes in my carpet. ‘If you hadn’t met me, would you have gone?’

He groans, falls face first on to my bed.

‘Yes, probably. I probably would have gone. But—’

‘And the party?’ I interject. I have to get this out. Clear the air so we can move on. ‘You’d be going to that too, right?’

‘I don’t know; maybe. They’re all pretty much the same, those things.’

‘But you’d go?’ I repeat, jaw tight. For the first time since we met, he’s looking at me like I’m about to go Carrie White on his ass. I’m not; I just need him to see how bad this will be if he stops going out, hanging with his friends, cuts himself off because of me.

‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I would.’

‘Right. So you have to go. Don’t you see? You can’t not go places because I’m not going.’

‘But I love your company.’

‘And I love yours. But if you stop doing things because I won’t be there, you’re going to end up feeling trapped here.’

‘Norah, come and sit down. Take some deep breaths with me for a minute?’

I do as he asks because I am feeling a little lightheaded. Not sure if it’s panic or exercise making me feel this way, though. I sit on the bed and he watches me inhale and exhale. It hurts to see him bury his hands beneath his knees because he’s trying not to reach for me.

‘I’ll go to the party,’ he says. ‘But I can come and see you immediately after, right?’

‘Yes. Yes. You absolutely can. If I’m going to be your girlfriend—’

‘Wait,’ he interjects, grinning from ear-to-ear. ‘You’re going to be my girlfriend?’

‘Yes. If you can promise me you won’t hold back just because I can’t do a thing.’

‘I promise,’ he says, and his pinkie, as light as a feather, draws a heart on the side of my hand.





It’s Friday night, and for the first time in for ever, Luke isn’t here. But I can’t complain. If this thing between us is going to have a shot at survival, I have to get on board with not wanting to be where he is all the time too.

Which is easier said than done.

I’m usually the biggest fan of Max DeWinter movies. Alas, not even Hollywood’s latest teen heart-throb flexing his arms and running around in a dishevelled white shirt can capture my attention.

‘Quit it.’ Mom’s hand crashes down on my bare thigh.

‘Ouch.’ It didn’t hurt, but the slapping sound makes a protest seem necessary.

She pushes on my leg, forcing my bouncing knee to a standstill. ‘Well, feeling a little like I’m in the path of a Mongolian death worm over here.’

‘A what?’

‘A Mongolian death worm.’

‘That’s not a real thing.’

‘Sure it is. Google it.’ She quickly dismisses her suggestion with a wave of a hand. ‘Actually, don’t do that.’

I laugh. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’

She leans forward, grabs a sugar cookie from the coffee table, and starts licking the chocolate off the top of it.

‘So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I say. My eyes find the television set and focus on Max firing a gun at some guy I assume is the baddie.

‘Are you kidding? Mark DeSomething . . .’

‘Max DeWinter,’ I correct.

‘Right. That guy. He’s been shirtless twice already and you haven’t said a word.’

It’s official. I’ve become that kid who’s best friends with her mom. We’ll be wearing matching velour tracksuits and investing in a tandem bicycle next.

‘It’s possible you know me too well,’ I say, giving her a wary sideways glance.

‘Agreed. But until you’re feeling better, you’re stuck with me.’ She playfully socks me in the arm. ‘So spill. Did you and Luke have a fight? I’m not going lie, I was sort of expecting to find him vegging out on the couch when I walked in from work.’

I guess I can complain a little, at least to my mom.

‘He’s gone to this school ball thing.’ I pout, snatching a cookie off the table and crumbling it between my fingers.

‘Oh dear,’ Mom replies. She sighs, and I catch the sweet scent of strawberry wine. Not for the first time since I got sick, I wonder what alcohol tastes like.

‘He’s going to be surrounded by gorgeous girls in glamorous dresses.’ I flop back against the couch, all drama, completely justified. ‘There’s this one chick going. She’s got her sights set on him. Big time.’ Last Friday, when Luke and I had our chat, and I forced him to go to this stupid thing, I was so focused on keeping the handcuffs off, I completely forgot about Queen Amy.

‘Oh dear, oh dear.’

‘She’s so pretty. We’re talking music-video levels of good-looking. All tall and tanned. Plus, she drives this super-cool car, and she can leave her house whenever she wants.’