Dark Secrets (Dark Secrets #1)(116)
Author: A.M. Hudson

Awkward. “Yeah, um, that’s our cue to go.” I stood and motioned the girls to follow.

Three pairs of feet dangled off one side of the bed, three heads off the other, while the sun slipped behind the house, bringing darkness down the walls, and the dancing rainbows around my room faded, but Emily and Alana’s stories distracted me from the dying colours in my life, reminding me of a time when I once thought the world was normal.

“So, whose idea was it to hang the crystals over the window?” Alana asked. “It was so magic in here with all those rainbows.”

“Oh, um, Pollyanna.”

“Pollyanna?” She rolled onto her belly.

“Yeah. It’s from an old movie my mom used to love.”

“Hm. Never seen it.” Alana looked at Emily, who shrugged, shaking her head.

“So, Ara, are you gonna show us these pics of Mike, or what?”

“Sure, Em, but, you’re with Spence now, do you really need to be checking out other guys?”

“Who says I’m checking him out?” She sat up beside Alana. “I’m just curious as to why your eyes light up when you mention him.”

“They so do not light up,” I demanded.

“Um, actually, Ara, they kind of do,” Alana said carefully.

“Yeah, you sparkle.” Emily waved her fingers around. “So—” she shuffled to the edge of the bed, “—let’s see them.”

“Fine.” I rolled up with a huff and wandered over to my desk. “I don’t have many, though. I only grabbed one box when I moved—and it was the wrong one.”

“Which box did you mean to grab?” Em asked.

“Just some old family ones.” I shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “I’d switched the boxes about a week before and just didn’t realise until I was already here.”

“Why not ask your mom to send them over for you?” Alana said.

“Yeah. Guess I could.” I bumped the drawer closed with my hip and plonked down on the ground with the box in front of me. Alana sat beside me, waiting anxiously while I fingered the lid, trying not to peel back the carefully placed rainbow and kitten stickers Mike randomly stuck on there when he was bored one day.

“Oh, my God!” Alana reached past my wrist and grabbed the first picture the light touched, then jumped up and handed it to Emily, who smiled instantly.

“Oh. He is cute.”

“You think?” My lip curled.

Emily laid back on my pillow, her silky blonde hair spilling out around her like liquid. “Hell yeah. He’s kinda rustic, isn’t he?”

Alana, with another picture in hand, nodded. “Is he a surfer?” She flipped the image around for me to see; Mike, in his board shorts, on the beach—golden and tanned, with yellow hair falling scruffily over his eyes.

“Yeah, I suppose.” I shrugged. “He does surf.”

“I can’t believe how cute he is.”

“Yeah, he sorta is…in a way.” I pretended to cringe.

“In a way? Ara, he’s actually really cute,” Alana said. “Even by my standards.”

“And you two never uh—” Emily let the suggestion in her tone lead that question.

I shook my head. “It’s really not like that.”

“Never?” She grinned, and the pathetic liar in me showed herself on my face. “Oh, my God. You so had a fling!”

“We didn’t.”

“You did,” Emily insisted.

“Did not.”

Alana studied my smirk. “Ara, you’re a terrible liar.”

“Drat.” My shoulders sunk. “Okay, maybe I did, kind of, throw myself at him. Once.”

“Really?” Emily sat up and crossed her legs under her. “Well? Come on, girl, fill us in!”

My head dropped to one side with a groan. “Okay. Um, so, it was my friend’s eighteenth…”

“Ooh, wait, wait, wait.” Em waved her hands about, coming to sit down in our little circle around my box of Mike. “Okay. Go.”

“Um.” I laughed at her, half frowning. “So…I had a drink at her party. Well, okay, maybe three.” I laughed. “Or more.”

The girls gasped, wide-eyed.

“What?” I shrugged.

“You rebel,” Alana breathed the words out.

“I know, I know. It’s not one of my proudest moments. But, the legal age for drinking in Australia is eighteen,” I added. “So, I’m not that far off—not like here.”

“Huh! So lucky,” Emily scoffed.

“So, anyway. I walked to Mike’s house to stay the night so my mom wouldn’t find out—”

“Did his mom know you were drunk?” Emily sat forward.

“Let me finish.” I held a hand up; Alana laughed. “It was actually Mike who picked up on it, like, before I even got in the door.”

Emily and Alana exchanged glances. “How did he know you’d been drinking?” Alana asked.

“He’s been a cop since he was eighteen,” I said. “He knows the signs, and he knows me—and I don’t act like that.”

“Wait. I thought he was just getting into the Force,” Alana asked.

My head moved in a ‘no’ as I popped a candy in my mouth. “He’s just getting in to the Tactical Response Group. That’s where he really wanted to be. But he’s been a beat cop for forever.”

“So…” Emily led, “what happened then?”

“Um, well, so, he took me upstairs to his room and sat me down for a severe talking to. But, I just thought he was hilarious. I couldn’t stop laughing at him.”

“How did he take that?”

“He was trying not to laugh, too, but…then I kind of went and threw my arms around him and kissed him—told him I’d always loved him.”

“Huh! I would’ve, too,” Emily said.

“Did he kiss you back?” Alana asked, completely arrested by my tale.

“Yeah—” I lowered my head, “—for a moment. But then he stopped—pushed me away.”

“Ouch.” Emily winced.

“That must have hurt?” Alana’s voice softened.

“Not really. I mean, I felt rejected and all, but it was…he yelled at me. He had never yelled at me before—for anything.” I laughed it off, but I’d pushed that memory so far down that remembering it came as a shock. I’d almost convinced myself the kiss never happened.