Unravel(42)

Lachlan’s eyes narrowed as he tilted his head to the side. “Something isn’t right.”

“Everything is fine,” I vowed.

Lachlan refused to let it go. “You’re not your usual, happy self.”

“I promise,” I uttered slowly, “I’m fine.”

Lachlan exhaled loudly and looked around. It was awkward.

I wasn’t fine, or good, or great. I was… nothing. But how could I tell that to Lachlan? I could barely figure out what was wrong myself. Lana said it was just the age. She said all teenagers go through it. I asked her why she wasn’t going through it and she shrugged, asked what I was feeling. I told her that one minute I would be so happy, feeling like I could take on everything in the world and how, out of nowhere, I would be in a complete daze. Then I would turn moody and so sad it felt like I couldn’t breathe. She stared at me, blankly. I asked her if she’d ever felt that way. She looked down at the ground and said: ‘I have the sadness, but never the happiness.’

“So…” Lachlan drew out. I quickly shook my head, brushing away the memory. “Any new stories to tell? There has to be something brewing in that mind of yours.”

I smiled, relieved that he changed the subject. There were new stories every day. When my imagination wasn’t running wild, I would sit down at my desk and write until my hand became sore.

“I’m still writing. But I don’t think it’s going to go anywhere.”

“Are you going to let me read one?”

I blushed. “No.”

I knew what my stories were. Love letters to Lachlan. In every single story, he was my muse for the hero. When I wrote, when I imagined, my heart bled out a piece of the truth.

“Why not?” he asked.

I shrugged and brushed away the dirt that was scattered across the floorboards. “They’re just stories.”

“Just stories,” he repeated.

“I’d tell you,” I said in a rush. “But you’re probably too old for them.”

“Me? Old? Get real. I’ll never outgrow your stories.”

My pulse was pounding as I replayed his words. I hoped he meant what he said. “Are you sure?” I asked. “Because—”

“I’m serious. I want to hear one.”

I relaxed, looked up at the endless sky, and closed my eyes. Once again, Lachlan drew me into a little world of dreams. I could live there forever. And who could blame me? The imagination is the best place to be.

My shoulders loosened and all those jittery nerves seemed to disappear as I talked.

I told him my story. It was the end of days and only five people were left on Earth. But they weren’t alone. There was another group of people called the Eights. They looked human but were monsters, sent to destroy mankind. The five survivors had to band together to live.

I talked until my voice was scratchy, until my pulse was pounding from excitement. Until the story was told from start to finish.

Lachlan let out a whistle. “That’s a good one.”

Anxiously, I leaned closer. “You think so?”

“I think you know it’s good.”

I smiled so hard my cheeks started to hurt. I could bask from his praise for hours, but I wanted to know what he had been up to.

“How have you been?”

Lachlan leaned against the wood railing and crossed his arms. My eyes veered to his hands. Compared to my small hands, his long fingers were massive. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I pulled my eyes back to his face.

“It’s summer break and I don’t have to study for hours, so I’m doing really good.”

I frowned. “You don’t like college?”

“I like college.”

“It doesn’t sound like you do.”

“I do,” he started out slowly. “There are just some parts I like a lot more.” He gave me a shit-eating grin.

I was old enough to know that he was talking about girls and it was a physical blow. Like someone had punched me in my chest.

I chewed on my bottom lip and stared at my tennis shoes. There was one question I was dying to ask. I nervously looked at him.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

I was proud of myself. My voice didn’t waver and my cheeks hadn’t turned red… yet.

“Right now? No. But I’ve had a few.”

“I remember… Laura Kline.” I made a face and a gagging noise.

He smirked. “Why are you so curious? Are you getting into all that boyfriend and girlfriend teenager shit?”

I tilted my head. “Teenager shit?”

“You know…” He waved a hand in the air. “Holding hands and all that stuff.”

“I don’t know… I guess so.”

“Who’s the dude?”

I’m looking at him, I thought to myself.

“Some guy,” I said evasively.

“Ah… he’s a guy. Not a boy. Must be older… what, fifteen?” he teased.

I narrowed my eyes. “Much older than fifteen.”

He frowned. “Kid, anything that’s older than fifteen is too old for you.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It really is,” he argued.

I picked up a leaf lying next to me and twirled it around. He didn’t know what was best for me. No one did but me.