Hope looks hesitant, even though I can see the way her eyes light up. She wants to be away from here.
“Let’s fucking go.” I stand up and offer my hand to Hope.
She takes it and stands up.
Ten minutes later, we’re in the diner, talking and laughing about things that matter far more than our problems.
10
HOPE
Heath parksat the end of the block—I asked him to—and faces me. His stare burns a hole in the side of my face and makes my neck burn.
“I should go,” I say. My own voice sounds weak to my ears.
We both know I’m scared.
“It’s getting late.” It’s not late. I have three hours till my curfew.
I made Heath drive me home straight from school so we haven’t spent a single minute together other than at the rooftop.
Even after spending the whole day with him, I want to spend more time with him. Before there was only talking, but now our time together includes hugs and kisses and I like those so much. And I want more. An endless supply will do.
You’re my girl.
My heart leaps.
I haven’t been able to ask him what it means. It could be that I’m his girl like a girl best friend. But he wouldn’t be kissing me then. Or I’m like a special my girl that he wants to kiss and hug, but doesn’t want to date.
I have so many questions to ask, but I have zero courage to face him, look him in the eye and just ask.
I grab my bag from the floor and hug it to my chest. I reach over to open the door, but the locks clicks in place.
“You’re not going to say goodbye to me, Rose?” Heath asks, his voice rough and husky as it scrapes over my skin and raises goosebumps.
Without looking at him I say, “Um, goodbye. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Oh my God.
That sounded so cringe.
See you tomorrow?
I want to die after saying that.
I’m still pondering over my absurd sentence delivery when his fingers brush away my hair from the side of my face and expose me to him. The intense blush that climbs up on my cheeks and clings there makes me nervous.
His knuckle swipes back and forth over my cheek, and a soft breath escapes my mouth.
Oxygen leaves the car and it feels like there’s no air for me to breathe.
“You’re not looking at me,” he says thoughtfully. “I like it when your eyes are locked on me.”
My hold on my bag gets tighter.
“Rose,” he calls me and it’s impossible for my body tonotanswer.
I sheepishly peek at him and all I see is confidence oozing off of him.
