Dark Secrets (Dark Secrets #1)(36)
Author: A.M. Hudson

“No peeking.” I hid it with my elbow.

He sat back in his chair, chuckling quietly.

Sorry, I wrote. When I said that, I just meant that you make me lose my concentration. I want to be next to you. I just wish we weren’t at school.

There, that should do it. Somehow, it was so much easier to say what I wanted to say when I didn’t actually have to say it. “Here.”

David placed a fingertip on the top corner of the note and slid it across the desk.

“I want you all to write this down,” Mr Benson said, scribbling on the board.

I dared to glance back to see what David thought of my note; he slipped it into his pocket, smiling my favourite smile—the one that lit up the corners of his eyes before showing in his lips—but didn’t say anything.

“Point one.” Mr Benson wrote number one to ten on the board, and kept talking about something I cared nothing for.

David, with his left hand, started taking notes, looking up at the board and back down again, and I watched in amazement. How did I not notice he was left-handed? His guitar wasn’t left-handed.

“Here.” He slid a page of notes across to me; an exact copy of what was on the board.

“Thanks. But, don’t you need these?”

He smiled down at another page in front of him; the same notes.

“Oh.” I toyed with the edge of the paper.

“Ara?” David whispered, eyes forward, head close to mine.

“Mm-hm?”

“Can I hold your hand?”

“In class?”

“Yes. In class.”

The idea took my breath. I couldn’t even nod. I felt his cool touch just above my elbow before he slid his fingers slowly down the length of my arm, making little bumps lift the fine hairs as they followed the curve to the back of my hand. I flipped my palm over and our fingers laced.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded, squeezing his hand tightly. Just don’t ever let go, David.

We sat with our hands concealed under the desk for the rest of class. But every now and then, David ran his thumb over mine and smiled at me—and every time he did that, my heart skipped into my throat like the rush you get on a roller coaster.

I grinned like the Cheshire cat, silently praying the teacher wouldn’t notice the reason for my happiness, and as I sat, feeling closer to this boy than I had to anyone in my life, ever before, I drew a conclusion again that I thought I’d discarded completely; I was in love. Even if you couldn’t fall in love with someone in four days, I didn’t care. It didn’t change how I felt right then. I could only hope, as I watched David trying to conceal his own smile, that he’d one day feel the way I did. Definitely in love.

Dad paced the floor, hands behind his back, droning on about some faerie myth, and as usual, Emily and I quietly gossiped our way through the hour. She scribbled another fact about her latest crush on a page and passed it to me. Since he sat behind us, the only thing we could actually talk about in here was David. Which is why History was my new favourite, David-less class.

“I already know that,” I said to Em, sliding the paper back to her.

“Oh, sorry.” She looked a little sheepish. “Did I tell you he lives near you?”

I half glanced over my shoulder at him; he was plain, kind of quiet, like Alana, but with sandy hair. His only redeeming quality was his dazzling hazel, almost green-grey eyes. “I met him once—on my first day,” I said.

“Really?”

I nodded.

“Well, what did he say to you? Was he nice? Did he—”

“Em?” I put my hand up between us; she had somehow managed to excite herself so much she’d almost drifted onto my lap. “Why don’t you just talk to him?”

She ducked her head and took a half glance back at him. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“What if he doesn’t like me?”

In my mind, I flicked my hand out and whacked her across the back of the head; in the real world, I just rolled my eyes at her. Ever since she first took real notice of him at rehearsals yesterday, all she’d done was talk about what this person told her about him, or what that person said he did in Math class. But I had to agree with her when she said that ever since she first decided he was perfect, she’d seen the world move in slow motion. Now, that I understood.

“So, are you and David going out now?” she asked.

“Yeah, we’re going out tonight, remember?”

“No, dummy.” She slapped my arm. “I mean, has he asked you to be his girlfriend?”

“Do guys do that?”

Her expression said the words her lips held back. “Yes, Ara. Guys ask girls out.”

“Oh. Well, no. He didn’t. He um—he said he liked holding my hand.”

“Hm. PG.”

I rolled my eyes and sat facing the front again.

“Maybe he’s just being a gentleman—” She leaned a little closer, keeping her eyes on Dad as if we were paying attention to him. “I mean, that would be very like him, Ara. He might be waiting for you to make the first move?”

I sat up in my chair. “Yeah, he does have that freaky old-world charm thing. Maybe he’s ultra-traditional.”

“It would make sense.” She offered, rolling out a flat palm.

I chuckled once. “Maybe I should offer him my intentions in writing, then.”

“Nah, I don’t think—”

“Em?” I elbowed her. “That was a joke.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Ara, you tell the worst jokes.”

“Yeah, I must get it from my dad.” I grinned as the whole class broke into laughter at one of his inadvertently humorous comments.

“No.” Emily sighed, leaning on her hand, dreamily gazing at Dad. “He’s funny. You must’ve inherited your terrible joke problem from your mom.”

My heart stopped for a beat. “Yeah. I guess I do.” And it was true. But not from the mom they all thought I grew up with. I got my terrible joke problem from the mother I just buried. It was kind of our little game—almost an art form; lame ‘Dad’ jokes for a girl without a dad around. And I didn’t realise, until now, that I was still playing it.

I saw myself then—the girl standing by a coffin, looking down, wondering how I would walk away—say goodbye to someone I’d loved my whole life. I left her there, walked on, but my heart would never let go, never believe she wouldn’t wake up—never play that game with me again.