Fake (22 page)

She sighs. ‘You're growing up so fast. Sometimes I forget you might still need your mum.'

‘I'll always need my mum.'

‘But soon you'll be off to uni.' Her gaze drops to her hands. ‘And I'll be all alone.'

The loneliness in her voice makes it hard to maintain my sense of betrayal. ‘You think Colin's the one?'

‘I think he's pretty amazing.'

It's hard to stay mad with Mum when I'm keeping so many secrets of my own. I exhale in an exaggerated sigh. ‘Fine. Go. I'll slave the day away at school while you're off playing tongue hockey with your internet man.'

* * *

The sunshiny, bright morning turns into a drizzly afternoon and I'm damp and uncomfortable by the time I let myself into an empty house. What a surprise, Mum is still out with Colin.

Sebastian texts me as I'm grumbling up the stairs.

Do I? I haven't seen him properly since Sunday and he's the only one who knows I met Dad. There's no question.

There is barely enough time to run a brush through my hair before I hear the front doorbell. I'm downstairs, swinging the door open before the last note dies.

I glance over his shoulder but there's no car. ‘That was fast.'

‘I was in the area.' My brows go up and he kind of squirms. ‘I was counting on you saying yes because I wanted to see you.'

My heart actually swells so that I have to suck in a deep breath to get vital oxygen. ‘Great.'

Could I be any more lame?

He stands barely a foot inside the door. ‘Is your Mum home?'

I shake my head. ‘But you can come upstairs. Are you wet from the rain? Why aren't you at work? Do you want a drink?' I have to bite down on my tongue to stop the rambling but Sebastian doesn't seem to mind.

His head tilts. ‘I would love to come upstairs. I told Dave I have a headache and if you have a cola I'm in.'

I lead him to the kitchen where I grab drinks and chips and then head to my room. It's automatic. Our place is pretty small and it's where I usually hang out with my friends.

But my friends aren't usually male.

He stands at the door with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. He's so cool and aloof and shy. ‘Are you sure I can come in?'

‘You don't go in girls' bedrooms all the time?'

He shakes his head, the smile of a minute ago gone from his eyes. ‘No.'

I cross the room and tug at his arm. ‘Mum won't be home for hours, she's out with her new boyfriend.'

He allows me to drag him over the threshold but not much further. His head turns as he looks around. ‘What is all this stuff? Do you like old things?'

I try to see my bedroom through his eyes. Maybe it is a bit strange for a teenager. I shake my head. ‘Not old so much but I like the stories.'

His hand goes to his waist. ‘Stories like my grandfather's belt?'

I nod, amazed he gets it. No one else ever has. Chay usually rolls her eyes, and Mum is happy to have the company on her searches for the perfect teacup and saucer set, but she doesn't share my fascination with the glimpses into other people's love stories.

Now he steps inside, toward the desk and my lamp, a garish orange shade with a barely clothed buxom woman as the stand. ‘This has a story?'

I chuckle. ‘Why am I not surprised you've picked that one?'

His gaze moves to my chest where my silver locket rests between the buttons of my grey shirt. ‘I could have asked you more about that necklace.'

I try not to blush and cross to pick up the lamp. Underneath is a tarnished brass plate with the old engraving etched to nothing. He leans over my shoulder to see better and then straightens again.

He shakes his head. ‘I don't get it.'

‘Someone went to a whole lot of trouble to cross out what was written there.'

‘So?'

I shrug. ‘It's pretty old. I figured it was a gift from a jealous mistress who was trying to get the man of the house in trouble. He had to remove the evidence before being found out.'

His brows rise. ‘You have a good imagination.'

‘Thank you.'

He sits awkwardly on the edge of the bed. It's the only clear space since books are piled on the seat at my desk, and when you're as tall as Sebastian the floor is a long way down.

I sit beside him and then immediately stand again. ‘Wait.'

‘Okay.' He sounds confused and I don't blame him.

But I don't know how to act. Boys in my room isn't exactly usual practice for me. I rummage on my desk as though I don't know exactly where I left what I'm looking for and then return to the edge of the bed with a small package.

When I hold it out, my hands are steady and don't betray the nerves doing cartwheels in my belly.

‘You bought something for me?' He's surprised, and from the way his mouth shapes into a grin I'm hoping he's a little bit chuffed. ‘You shouldn't have.'

I hide it behind my back, imitating the way he teased me with the present before the party. ‘We can pretend I didn't.'

He lunges for it, his long arms reaching behind me easily. I try to evade him, flopping back onto the bed and holding it as far away from him as I can. My other hand pushes at his chest. The thump of his heart beneath my fingers accelerates as he rises over me, placing one hand on either side of my head.

I'm deliciously trapped.

His hard body above and the softness of my bed against my back. His gaze drops to my mouth and I lick my lips. His head lowers and I forget to breathe.

What started as a game has become something better. More dangerous.

The hand I placed on his chest to push him away grabs a fistful of his t-shirt, pulling him closer. He kisses me. This time our noses don't clash. It's sweet and hot and terrifying.

I'm kissing Sebastian on my bed
.

‘Distraction achieved,' I murmur against his mouth. As though it was all part of my plan and my heart isn't about to explode with the amazingness of this moment.

His laugh tastes incredible. ‘You reckon?'

And then he's standing with a victorious arm raised in the air clutching the present.

My body is still tingling. I want to drag him back down on the bed, but I'm relieved to get a chance to catch my breath. No boy has ever confused me the way Sebastian does.

No one has ever gotten close enough to threaten the secret me. But Sebastian has knocked down all my barriers with a smile and a kiss. I don't know whether to run screaming or throw myself at his mercy and beg him not to break my heart.

He's turning the present over and over in his hands.

I threaten to try to take it back, standing opposite him with my hands on my hips. ‘Open it then.'

Unlike my careful approach he rips at the paper with childish abandon. His brows rise and he laughs long and hard when he sees what it is. ‘A bookmark?'

It's so nerdy it's cool. Well, that's what I'm hoping. The other day when I went past Dave's Computer Emporium to see Sebastian but he wasn't there, I felt bad about leaving without buying anything again. This was what I came up with.

‘It's for your textbooks. When you're waiting to meet girls on street corners.'

I try to read his expression. He thinks it's lame. I bet he hates it.

He slides it into his back pocket. He then takes both my hands and looks seriously into my eyes. ‘It's brilliant. I will think of you whenever I read
Data Structures and Algorithms for a Business Environment
.'

‘So all the time then?'

‘Pretty much.'

‘Why are you so into computers?'

It's a nothing question but he tilts his head as he considers it like I've asked something profound.

‘I don't know.' He half shrugs. ‘I'm good at it, I guess. Computers make sense. There's always an answer once you work it out. I type in the code right and it complies and simply … works.'

‘Like when I think about writing a movie, there's something safe about knowing how it will end.' I put into words something I didn't realise until I was with him. He has a way of making me think. Making everything clear.

His grin turns crooked. ‘Are you saying I like things to be safe?'

‘Not if it's a bad thing.'

He chuckles and takes my hand in his. He presses something small and lumpy into my palm and then closes my fingers around it.

I don't look away from his face. ‘For me?'

‘I had to kill some time at work and Dave had ordered in too much tape.'

Unable to resist a second longer I open my hand. It's a coin covered with paper and about half a roll of clear sticky tape. There's writing on it, tiny writing. I have to bring it close to read the messy script.

It's the same on both sides. ‘Huh?'

‘You say you're no good at decisions. I figured this way you could flip a coin.'

I do so and catch it. ‘Sebastian?'

He nods.

‘And the other side will be the same.'

He nods again, and his full lips curve up, showing how pleased he is with himself.

‘As if the answer to every decision I have to make is that simple.'

‘It might be.'

It's perfect and sweet and a bit funny. ‘And Dave's not going to notice this tape missing?'

His expression turns serious but his eyes are smiling. ‘When you run an emporium you have more important things to worry about.'

This time when he kisses me he's gentle. My hands encircle his neck and he does that thing where he lifts me almost off the ground to hold me against his body. I open my mouth and he takes my unspoken invitation. My heart plays Ping-Pong against my ribcage.

If we stumbled now we'd land on my bed.

On my bed.

His hands slide from my hips to my waist and then higher, teasing the gap of skin above my waistband. My body melts into his touch, sparking and trembling all at once.

I've never been alone like this with a boy. I've never wanted to do more than kiss them, and if I'm honest the kisses with other boys have all been kind of damp and icky. But how do I tell Sebastian to stop? I have no fear that he won't, but the thought of ending this moment makes me ache.

I ride a surge of feeling. It sweeps everything else aside but the here and now. My brain is almost,
almost
, switched off.

I love it. And this. I press closer, make the kiss deeper until he groans deep in his throat.

Maybe the answer is not to stop.

He pulls away. His breath comes in rasps that spray my face with a warm minty freshness and that Sebastian scent. Pine needles, computer products, something hot.

He pushes his hair back so it sticks up all funny on the top of his head, but it gives him a vulnerability that makes him even cuter than before.

But he's not looking at me. My antique rug at his feet has never interested anyone so much. Is he speaking? His lips move, but the thump of my heart and the breath in my lungs drowns out everything else.

‘I can't,' he says.

I heard
that
.

‘But you're the guy.' The words slip out and they're dumb and real and exactly what I think. They're true.

I was so busy deciding whether and when I would call a halt to us making out, I never considered
he
might end it.

He wraps his arms around me again but I hold myself stiffly. ‘I want to.' He exhales in a ragged breath. ‘Believe me, I do, but I promised myself I'd wait.'

I edge away. ‘Til you're married?'

He releases me and sits on my bed. ‘I don't know. Until I'm sure.'

I want to flee, but this is my bedroom. There's nowhere safe for me to go. ‘You're not sure about me?' Crap, I sound as petulant and whining as he probably thinks I am. Still I wait for him to answer.

‘I'm sure I really like you, but sex isn't something I want to rush into.'

I laugh. ‘We would never have got that far.'

I don't think
.

His crooked smile doesn't make everything okay this time. ‘I'm glad you understand.'

I don't. I'm not good enough for him to sleep with. Irrational it might be but it feels a whole lot like rejection. ‘I need some time to process everything.' I walk toward my bedroom door and open it. ‘You understand.' I parrot his words but he doesn't flinch.

He doesn't realise how upset I am.

He stands, and his hands go back into his pockets. ‘Will you be all right alone?'

Like I haven't been my whole life. ‘Sure.' But I can't help the glance I give the pine needles scratching on my window in the dark.

He notices. ‘I've already blown off work. Let me stay until your Mum gets home.' He presses a rough, warm finger to my lips. ‘As a friend. You can pretend I'm not even here.'

Despite everything, my stupid heart won't let me tell him to get lost. I'm charmed by his thoughtfulness, but I can't pretend he's not here. Not when every molecule in my body is humming to his tune. If we don't make out, there's only one thing left to do.

Talk. Something I'm usually pretty good at avoiding.

Sebastian must be thinking along the same lines. ‘How did it go with your dad?'

‘Crap.'

He waits.

I cross my legs and face him on the bed. It's hard for me to open up, but his listening face is even better than Mum's. I cave. ‘He didn't ask me a single question about myself. It was nothing more than an exercise in easing his guilt.'

‘For?'

‘Missing the last nine years of my life.' And then, before I can stop it, the whole story pours out. The other women, the newspaper journalists stalking Mum, his other kids.

When I finish – or at least run out of breath – Sebastian is still listening. He didn't once sigh or give me the hurry up glance. He listened to every self-pitying word.