Still looking suspicious, he turns away to look at the small businesses through the window on his side. We're silent for a moment, and I stop in front of a zebra crossing to let a family cross.
"You're annoyingly perfect," Liam murmurs.
What the hell? I look at him, but he's facing the window, his chin resting on his palm. For a moment, I think I've misheard him.
"What?" I ask.
Behind me, a car beeps and I realise the zebra crossing is clear. I drive on.
"You know what I mean," he says, still looking out the window. "You do everything you're supposed to do. The responsible thing. The proper thing. You just do everything right."
"Is this about getting my driver's license?" I ask.
"No. Yes. It's not only the driver's license." He sighs. "It's hard to explain, but if you asked, say my parents, who would be a perfect son, they'd say someone like you. Or, if you asked the cousins, they'd say you're a perfect boyfriend."
"Liam…"
He turns over and glances at me. "You know what, just forget everything I said. That was stupid. It's just that… it's easier to hate someone who is almost perfect. And I know I was a dickhead to you, and yeah I explained why, but you being you didn't make it any easier."
I open my mouth, but I can't think of anything to say.
"And yeah, I was also a dickhead yesterday when I capsized the boat. I don't know if I already apologised for that. But, um… I am sorry." Liam laughs mirthlessly. "Yeah, let's just drop the topic."
"The cousins love you," I say after a minute.
This time it's Liam's turn to look at me. "What?"
"Never mind," I say. Why do I ever open my mouth? I always end up saying nonsense.
We settle into silence, but I can't help thinking about the cousins. Even if the cousins say I'm the perfect boyfriend for Kennedy — which I disagree with — they love Liam. I don't think it's just their history either — Liam has a magnetism about him. It reminds me of our classes together at school. The teachers would always tell Liam to be quiet, but in the end, it was his contributions to class that had them twitching their lips to hide their smiles.
I used to wish I could be bold like him. To say what I thought when I felt like it. To be unabashedly myself.
I still wish that.
12
Liam: Black Coffee
I rub my eyes as I wake up, my dream from minutes before drifting away. I try to hang on to as many details as possible because the dream was a hot one. And the person in it with me — faceless but with the most beautiful body — was also hot. It’s mornings like these when the only thing I can think about is sex. And then I wonder if I’m the only person who thinks about sex this much.
I sit up in my bed and see Curtis has already left the room, his bed made, the curtains drawn.
Curtis seems so refined and self-controlled. He probably doesn’t think about sex as much as I do. Then I remember he’s already slept with a few girls if that party from last year is any indication.
I check my phone — I’ve woken up at my usual time of 9 o’clock. Maybe I should set an alarm for tomorrow morning so I can wake up before Curtis. I sort of did yesterday, but he’d waken up before me before falling asleep again. All that skin, surrounded by his fluffy white bed. It had been fun to tease him, but when I saw the towel he’d flung over the end of his bed, I believed his story.
I flex my back, unravelling the knots in my muscle, and scratch my stomach. I had a pretty good sleep last night. After dinner, everyone played Cards against Humanity and I expected Curtis to be the most prudish, but he had won with the most horrible yet hilarious combinations. Erin was the worst player, and we all teased her, as she was the oldest. Afterwards, the cousins wanted to start a reality TV show that had just dropped on Netflix, but I headed upstairs with Curtis. I’d watched anime on my laptop for a couple of hours, and Curtis read. When I went to bed, he turned his lamp off almost immediately.
Now, the bedroom door opens and Curtis walks in, holding a steaming mug in one hand. “Morning,” he says.
“Morning,” I reply, my voice still dry with sleep.
Curtis comes to stand next to my bed, eyes flicking to my chest. I look down, but there’s nothing odd about it. Except for my nipples. But the room is cold.
He passes me his mug. Cautiously, I take it and look at the dark liquid. Even the scent of it jolts me awake.
“Do you want me to hold your coffee?” I ask though I thought he didn’t drink coffee.
