Love-shy (26 page)

‘Are you okay?' I asked.

Nick nodded. ‘I think so. I nearly didn't make it.'

‘Frozen again?'

He ducked his head again. ‘And I had to sneak out, because I didn't want to tell my mother where I was going.'

‘Why not?'

‘Too embarrassing. She'd probably cry.'

I had a sudden flashback to Nick's mum crying into her leathery beef and tried not to shudder.

‘But you're here now,' I said, handing him a menu. ‘Which is wonderful. A big step. Well done.'

He blushed and seemed pleased, then the faintly mocking expression took over. ‘One small step for everyone else, one giant leap for Nick Rammage, Emotional Cripple.'

‘Silly sausage,' I said.

‘One giant leap for Nick Rammage, Silly Sausage,' he said, and allowed himself a genuine smile. I smiled back.

‘I brought you something,' he said, passing me the bag. ‘I didn't have any wrapping paper. But I wanted to say thanks.'

It was a Pez dispenser.

‘It's the Cowardly Lion from
The Wizard of Oz
,' Nick explained. ‘Because you helped me find my courage.'

I thought my smile might split my face in half. ‘Thank you,' I said, feeling unbelievably touched.

The waiter returned, and we ordered. Nick pulled a small stack of white cards out of his back pocket.

‘Are you making a speech?' I asked.

‘My therapist gave me some ideas for conversation topics that I could try out.'

The debater in me couldn't help but respect a guy who brought note-cards along on a date. ‘Great,' I said. ‘The floor is yours.'

‘Um,' he said, looking down at the first card nervously. ‘What are your plans for next year?'

I grinned, and we started to talk. Nick's left eyelid twitched every time the conversation lulled, but all in all it went well. He asked me questions and seemed to be genuinely interested in my answers, pausing thoughtfully before commenting on my reply. I could almost believe I was on a real date, with a normal boy. It was quite nice, really.

‘So, why journalism?' asked Nick. ‘You could do anything, surely. Why not become a lawyer and earn heaps of money, or a politician and rule the world?'

I picked up my fork and studied it. ‘Journalism's exciting,' I said. ‘I don't ever want a job where I get bored. Where the only challenge is getting the next promotion. I want to travel and see amazing things and meet amazing people. And I want to share that. Most people don't think enough, don't wonder about what the outside world is like. I want to
make
people think. Make them ask questions. I want to change the rules, do things that no one has ever done before.'

I told him all about Nellie Bly, and how she had not only changed opportunities for women writers, but had also changed journalism itself.

‘What about you?' I asked. ‘What do you want to do when you leave school?'

Nick thought about it. ‘I don't know,' he said. ‘I never thought I'd be able to do anything. Now…' He closed his eyes, looking overwhelmed. ‘I'd like to do something where I could be outside. Work with plants. Landscape gardening or something.'

‘That sounds nice,' I said, and then, because he seemed a bit more comfortable, I decided to throw him a challenge. ‘So have you given any thought to coming to the social next Friday?'

Nick screwed up his face and buttered a piece of bread. ‘I don't think I want to go,' he said. ‘I'm not sure I'm ready.'

I put on my
I'm disappointed in you
face. ‘Well, I think you
are
ready. Look at you, talking to a girl, in a restaurant. There are candles on the table. It's almost romantic!'

‘Yeah,' said Nick. ‘But this is different. It isn't . . . a
social
.'

‘You'll never get better until you face your fears. And you chickened out on Sarah Parsons' party. You owe me.'

Our food arrived and Nick looked relieved.

After dessert, I leaned back in my chair with a contented sigh.

‘That was good,' said Nick, licking the last bit of sorbet from his spoon. ‘Really good.'

It must have been really good, I thought, after being served stringy overcooked rubbish every night.

‘Shall we go for a walk?' I suggested. ‘I'm stuffed to the gills and could use a little fresh air.'

‘Okay.'

We wandered through the city, peering down alleyways and into the windows of interesting little shops.

‘What's it like?' Nick asked. ‘Living in the city?'

‘I love it,' I told him. ‘I love the food and the energy, and having everything so close. I know that no matter what time of the day or night, there's always something happening, in a laneway or a tiny theatre or a cavernous art gallery. There's always music and people and life.'

‘Where did you live before?' asked Nick. I glanced over at him to see if he was referring to his conversation cards, but he was gazing at the lit windows overhead.

‘A normal house in the suburbs,' I said. ‘Nothing special.'

‘Why did you move?'

‘My parents broke up.' I didn't really want to talk about it.

‘I'm sorry.' It really sounded as if he was. ‘And you live with your dad now? Do you still see your mum?'

We passed a busker playing ‘Candle in the Wind' on a ukulele. ‘No, she moved to Perth for work.' And then, because I wanted to be honest with Nick, I added, ‘Or at least that's the official story. The real reason is that she freaked out about my dad being gay and ran away.'

Nick blinked. ‘Your dad's gay?'

I realised that even though I knew pretty much everything about Nick, he didn't really know much about me. I nodded.

‘But
you
didn't freak out,' he said. ‘You stayed with your dad. You could have gone with your mum, couldn't you?'

Not when she left without me. I shrugged. ‘Dad didn't do anything wrong. He was just being honest about who he is. Sure, I was surprised. But it wouldn't be fair to be angry at him for being honest.'

‘That's . . . amazing,' said Nick. ‘I think I would have been more selfish about it. Angry that my family had broken up. If I'd had your family, of course,' he added. ‘I expect I wouldn't have nearly so many problems if my parents had broken up when I was little.'

‘Maybe not,' I said.

‘But I mean it,' said Nick. ‘A lot of people wouldn't be so understanding. You're a good person, Penny.'

I felt a warm glow spread through my body. ‘Thank you,' I said, genuinely flattered. I smiled up at Nick, and he smiled back, and for a moment I felt just like an ordinary girl on a date with an ordinary boy.

‘Do you miss your mum?' he asked.

‘No,' I said shortly, but I knew that despite my resolution to be honest with Nick, I was lying.

We paused before a florist's shop with a wild, tangled green window display.

‘Penny?' There was a little tremble in Nick's voice. ‘How does this work in real life? With a real girl?'

I was a little stung. ‘What am I, your imaginary friend?'

‘You know what I mean. Tonight has been good and I feel a lot better about the idea of . . . going on a date. But how do I do it for real?'

‘You find a girl you like, then you ask her to go out to dinner with you. Or to a movie. Or bowling. Or to a Pez dispenser exhibition.'

‘But what happens
then
?' asked Nick.

‘What do you mean?' I said.

‘What happens
after
I ask her out?'

I blinked. ‘You go out.'

Nick frowned. ‘But then what? At what point in the date do you move things forward? Should I try to hold her hand? Kiss her? Do I open doors for her? Buy her dinner?'

‘You have to figure it out as you go,' I said. ‘You can offer to pay for her dinner if you like, but it's probably better to split the bill on the first date, as we did tonight. And the other stuff. . . you just have to read her signals.'

‘Like what?'

‘Like, if she's leaning forward and laughing and making lots of eye contact, then she probably likes you, and you could try holding her hand.'

I couldn't believe that I was actually giving Nick dating advice. It wasn't as if I were the most experienced person in the world at dating. But I'd seen plenty of cheesy rom-coms with Dad and Josh, so I knew the basic rules.

‘And kissing?'

‘I don't know,' I said. ‘I guess you just know if it's appropriate. You should be able to sense it.'

Nick didn't seem convinced. ‘But
then
what?'

‘Well, if you decide it's appropriate, then you kiss her.'

Nick traced his finger over the lettering stencilled on the shop window. ‘But
how
?'

‘How do you kiss her?' I was beginning to get out of my depth. I'd never kissed anyone either, not really.

‘Um,' I said. ‘You know. You just kiss. Press your lips against her lips.'

‘I know
that
,' said Nick. ‘But then what happens? There must be more to it.'

Was there more to it? Was
I
going to screw it up? Was there stuff I should know about kissing? I thought back through all the romantic comedies, and to last weekend and the incident with Hamish.

‘I guess you just try to be gentle,' I said. ‘Don't slobber on her. Don't lick her face.'

‘Tongue?'

‘Probably not the first time.' I was a bit nervous about where this conversation was headed. My palms were growing sweaty, and I wiped them on my skirt.

‘And what do I do with my hands?'

Nick's face was totally open and interested, without any trace of anxiety or shyness. His hair flopped over his forehead and his eyebrows crinkled in his cute questioning way. Maybe he really
was
getting better.

‘I'll show you,' I said, and moved a little closer to him.

Nick looked uncertain.

‘Come on,' I said. ‘I promise I won't bite.'

I stepped in close to him. He smelled very clean, like laundry detergent and soap. I could feel him tense as I got closer. I took one of his hands and put it behind me, around my waist, and his other around behind my back, so his arms encircled me.

‘I think it's a bit like this,' I said, moving even closer. I could feel his heart beating so fast it was making his chest vibrate. His breath came in shallow gasps.

‘Um,' he said, and swallowed.

‘And then,' I said, my voice very soft. I tilted my face up towards his and put my arms around his shoulders. ‘I think it goes something . . . like . . . '

I closed my eyes, leaned upwards and pressed my lips against his. His mouth felt soft and cool. I tightened my arms around him, but didn't feel him do the same to me. He was pretty nervous, I supposed. I let my lips open a little and leaned forward even further, pressing myself up against him. He felt solid and comforting, and my stomach squirmed in a really, really good way. I let my eyes open a teeny crack to see how he was responding.

Nick's eyes were wide open. I pulled away. He was frozen, an expression of total horror on his face. I stepped back.

‘What's wrong?'

He shook his head.

‘I'm sorry,' I said. ‘Was that too much? Too soon? I was only trying to help.'

That wasn't entirely true. I'd kissed Nick because I wanted to. I did want to help him get better, but I was beginning to suspect it wasn't for lofty journalistic reasons. I wanted him to get better so we could be together. I wanted Nick to fall in love with me, the way . . .

Oh.

Was I falling in love with Nick?

He finally spoke. ‘How
dare
you?'

‘What?'

He was white, and shaking. ‘How
dare
you do that to me? How
dare
you touch me like that.
Kiss
me.'

The happy squirming in my stomach had been replaced with an ugly, sick feeling. ‘What do you mean?'

‘You can't
do
that,' said Nick. ‘You can't be all supportive and listen and talk to me like I'm not a total freak, and then try to screw me up by playing games.'

‘I wasn't,' I said. ‘I wasn't playing games.'

‘Oh, so I suppose you did it out of the goodness of your heart. To
help
me.'

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. An elderly couple passed us on the street, avoiding eye contact.

‘Or, or, or maybe you did it because you secretly
like
me,' said Nick.

I do
, I thought.
I do like you. A lot.

‘Except you don't,' said Nick. ‘You can't. You're just like all the other girls. All those horrible blonde girls who laugh and giggle and throw their hair around as if they're interested, but then as soon as I speak, they're out of there faster than you can blink. Am I really that repulsive to you?'

‘You're not repulsive to me at all,' I managed.

But he wasn't listening.

‘You don't
know
me,' he said. ‘You act like you do. You act like you understand. But you don't. How can you know me after talking to me for a few days? You know
nothing
.'

‘I do know you,' I told him, feeling as if I was going to cry and hating myself for it. ‘I do.'

‘You don't. You're just as bad as all the rest of them. You're just like them. I thought things were changing. I thought I was getting better. But I'm still standing knee-deep in the water. It's still too cold. I still can't go in.'

I grabbed his arm and he flinched. People were watching us from inside the cocktail bar on the other side of the street. ‘Nick,' I said. ‘I'd never throw stones at you. I promise. You can take as long as you like to dive in. I'll wait.'

Nick stared at me as though I were a monster. ‘What did you say?'