Dark Secrets (28 page)

“
Not at all. But
sometimes I feel like you’re making this stuff up, you know, like
you’re just saying what I want to hear.”

He held out his
pinkie; “I promise I speak only truth.”

I linked mine over
his. “Then I promise to always try to believe you. But I can’t
promise not to giggle.”

“
Well—” he swiped his
thumb down my chin, “—we both know how I feel about that
giggle.”

The warm sun heated
the room around us then, and the tranquil hum of the weekend filled
the air, until a loud rumbling disturbed the peace.

David looked down at
my belly. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

I shook my
head.

“
Come on, we need to
feed you before the beast presents itself.”

“
You know me too
well, already.”

* * *

Skittles hissed,
leaping out my open window, sending my homework scattering as we
entered the room.

“
What did you do to
that cat, David?” I asked, turning to look at him. “He hates
you.”

David grinned, closing
the door. “Are you suggesting I threw him up that tree to get your
attention?”

I laughed. “It
wouldn’t sur—”

“
Ara.” Vicki opened
my door. “This stays open.”

My arms fell loosely
by my sides. “Seriously?”

She gave me ‘the
glare’, then walked away.

“
Looks like the cat’s
not the only one who doesn’t trust me,” David joked,
smiling.

“
Argh.” I stomped
over to my desk and pressed play on my iPod. “Why does she have to
treat me like a child?”

“
She’s not,” he said,
tossing my stuffed dog aside as he landed on my pillow. “She’s
treating you like a teenager who’s alone in her room with a
boy.”

I smiled and turned
the music up pretty loud—loud enough to give us some privacy.
“Well, she needs to get used to you being around. After all, you
are going to come meet me
here
every morning now, so you can make me one of
those glorious coffees, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, opening
his arm so my body could slide along next to his. “You liked that,
did you?”

“
Mm-hm.”

“
Well—” he kissed my
head as I snuggled into him, “—I’ll think about it.”

“
Good.” But I kinda
knew he wouldn’t. I think Vicki made him feel really
unwelcome.

“
I’m not bothered by
your stepmother, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I rolled up a bit to
look at him; his green eyes smiled down at me. “I was. I thought
maybe she’d offended you—you know, sitting with us at breakfast and
all.”

“
Not even a little
bit.” He pressed my head until I rested it back on his white
T-shirt. “I’ve dealt with a lot worse than Vicki.”

“
Well, you’re
pre-approved by my dad, right? So she has to accept
you.”

“
She does,
sweetheart. Just give her time.”

I nodded, and we laid
that way for a while then, music filling the silence, while a
summer breeze swept through the window, circling my vanilla body
wash with the fragrance of fresh cut grass and the sharp, spicy
scent of David’s cologne. It was so easy to be with David. He asked
me a lot about Australia, and we sat for about half an hour
comparing the differences in words from the two countries, like jam
versus jelly and sweater versus jumper. He thought
jumper
was another word
for a
kangaroo
or
a really depressed guy standing on a rooftop.

“
And the food here is
different, too, as in the portions,” I said. “I’ve never been so
happy in all my life.” I patted my belly. “The ogre’s started
raising his demands. I’m gonna get fat soon.”

David squeezed my
hand. “You would still be beautiful, even if you were too big to
touch your toes.”

“
Gross.” I winced,
but it made me smile. “That’s the sweetest thing any guy has ever
said to me. In a really strange way.”

He went quiet for a
second, shaking his head. “I don’t think you get it,
Ara.”

“
Get what?” I rolled
onto my belly, resting my elbows against his chest. “Get what,
David?”

With his lips pressed
together, he smiled, studying my face. “Never mind. So, what’s your
favourite genre of film?”

Seriously? So we were
playing the withholding game again. I deliberately slumped myself a
little too heavily onto my back against his chest again. “Favourite
genre of film? I guess it used to be action. The nineteen-eighties
kind. But, now—”

“
Now?” David led when
my silence lasted too long.

“
Now, I like
comedies. You know, it’s like—” I huffed through my nose, “—I’m
always so unhappy. If I can find something that makes me laugh and
forget about my life for a while, that’s what I like to do. So,
comedies.” My shoulders lifted once.

“
What kind of
comedies? Stand-up, action—?”

“
Romantic.” I
smoothed my fingertips over David’s ribs. “What about
you?”

“
Horror,” he stated,
cupping his hand over mine, stopping it from lifting his
shirt.

“
Really? Why? They’re
so—icky.”

“
Not for me. I love a
good, scary horror. I have this thing for blood; can’t get enough
of it.”

Well, I never
assumed
that
one.
I just couldn’t believe my ears. Sweet, kind David? Liked blood? It
just didn’t fit. I rolled onto my belly again to study his face.
“Really?”

He just smiled and
placed his hand under my shoulder blade, making me feel so grounded
and so real with the weight of his touch. What was it about him
that could come across as so harmless, when all I’d heard were
stories about his bullying antics, and now he was telling me he
liked horror?

“
It doesn’t suit
you,” I said.

“
What?”

“
Gore, horror. All
that stuff. I can’t picture you watching things like
that.”

He just laughed.
“Guess we won’t be having many movie nights then—since we have such
different tastes.”

“
Oh, no way, we so
will. You’ll just have to watch chick flicks.”

His smile widened. “I
look forward to it. Of course, I
would
like to watch a horror with
you—” He motioned to my hand on his chest, “—if it meant you’d
snuggle into me to feel safe.”

I rested my cheek on
his shirt again. “We can do that without the horror.”

“
What about books?
Can you read books with horror?”

“
Yeah. I like some
Stephen King stuff.”

“
Have you ever read
anything by Anne Rice?”

“
Yeah. I got swept up
in the vampire craze. Basically, any books or movies about fangs,
and I was there.” I nodded. “You?”

“
Yes. Even
I
fell victim to vampire pop culture.”

I laughed aloud.
“Yeah, but, personally, I prefer animal-eating vamps. Killing
people is just—” I rubbed pretend goose-bumps off my arms. “It just
doesn’t appeal to me.”

“
It
doesn’t?”

“
Nope.”

“
What if you met a
vampire who was nice, like me, but killed people? Would you still
like him?”

I shook my head. “I
know there’re girls who would. But, I guess, after seeing death
firsthand—how it affects people, I’m not sure now.”

He went ultimately
quiet and still; I think he even stopped breathing.

I propped my head up
again and his stunned stare at my face drew a smirk to my lips.
“You okay?”

“
Aspirations,” he
said suddenly, the stare washing away to a smile. “What do you want
to be when you grow up?”

I sighed, knowing full
well that his liquid eyes were hiding some deeper thought, but he
wouldn’t share it. “Um, I always wanted to be a teacher—like my
dad. But now I think I kind of want to be a musician—write my own
songs.”

“
I think that would
be perfect for you.”

“
Yeah, me too.” I
rolled onto my back and took his hand again. “I’d like to be famous
one day—maybe as a pianist.”

“
You’d need to get a
piano first.”

“
Oh God, trust me, I
know. I’ve been begging Dad for one since I was four.”

“
Why hasn’t he bought
one for you?”

“
He wants me to be a
teacher. Better income.”

“
Not if you were to
make it famous.”

I shrugged. “Guess
he’s seen Hollywood dreams go sour too many times.”

“
But it’s not just
big dreams with you, Ara. You’re very talented—” he laughed on
those two words. “I don’t think you’d ever be happy
teaching.”

I felt warm then. “It
amazes me how well you know me.”

He frayed his fingers
gently through mine. “You know, I wanted to be in a rock band
once.”

“
Really?”

“
Yeah. It was a long
time ago.”

“
Why didn’t
you?”

“
Went in another
direction.”

“
What
direction?”

He did that pause
thing he was becoming famous for; I assumed he was weighing up all
the different answers he
could
give against the ones he
would
give to keep me out of his
world. “I’m not so sure about that now. Might say I’m at a
crossroads.”

And that answer,
believe it or not, let me into his world more than if he’d said Law
or something like that. I smiled. “What direction do you want to
take? I mean, what options are there?”

“
That’s just it; I
don’t know.”

“
How can you find
out?”

“
I can
ask.”

“
Who?”

He sighed. “My uncle,
I suppose.”

“
And what would the
question be?” I probed.

His fingers tightened
on mine. “When I know the answer to that question, I’ll ask
it.”

I chuckled. “Is it
that you don’t want to tell me, or that you genuinely don’t
know?”

“
It’s that I
can’t
tell you.”

“
Why?”

“
Because I have
secrets.” His body became a firm board under me.

“
I like secrets,” I
said, and the board turned to sponge.

“
What if they’re dark
secrets?”

“
What kinds of dark
secrets?”

“
Bad
ones.”

I really thought
about that for a second—about the fear I had that he’d hate me when
he learned my dark secrets. But I never imagined he’d have
some—that there might be reasons
I
could hate
him
. “Then don’t tell me just
yet.”

“
When should I tell
you?”

“
One day.”

“
What if I didn’t
have much time—what if I had to tell you soon?”

That rubber mallet of
destruction came at my soul again; I felt it getting closer.
“What’s your favourite sport?”

David didn’t answer
for a few breaths. “Hockey. You?”

The mallet missed
completely, falling through the blankets under me. “I like dancing,
but as for actual sports, I was never interested. It was a taboo
subject in my house—much to Mike’s disgust.”

David cleared his
throat, crossing his ankles over where they dangled off the end of
my bed. “So he really did spend a lot of time there.”

“
Yep. Every day. He
was a permanent fixture—just another piece of furniture. His mom
and my mom were really close.”

“
You and Mike were,
too?”

“
Yeah. We were. I
mean, we are, but we’re just so far apart right now.”

“
Do you think things
will be the same as before when he comes to see you?”

“
I hope so. He’s
always been a constant thing in my life. It’s been really hard
without him.” I crossed my hands under my head, losing myself to
thought for a second before a smile expanded my lips. “He’s kind of
like a favourite pillow, you know, you can cry into it, it keeps
you warm and comfy, and it’s always there.”

“
But you don’t sleep
with it?” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but I knew he was
also really curious. Everyone was.

“
No, David. It’s not
that kind of pillow,” I said slowly, then added, “It’s a couch
pillow. Mike’s just a couch pillow. But this one—” I rolled over
and traced circles over his chest; he tensed, his hand ready, near
mine, “—this is my new favourite pillow.”

He nodded, then took
my hand, pressing his lips to it once. “I’m sorry. I wish the
circumstances that brought you to me had been different. But I am
very glad you came here.”