I noticed the pronouns he was using. Maybe he's cleverer than I thought.
I mumbled "no comment" to all his questions while my heart pounded the entire walk home. I don't have an answer to Curtis's question. And even if I did, I wouldn't tell him.
Once we returned to the beach house, we talked to the girls who were watching the reality TV show. After discussing the movie, Curtis and I went up to the attic. Curtis read his book, and I watched anime on my computer, but my mind wandered to Curtis. Was I mad at him? Because he wasn't as bad as I thought he was? Because we had fun together? Because I liked his company?
Maybe I was mad at myself. Not only for saying that cursed sentence, I like someone else but other stuff too. Is the thought of dating me so horrifying? Or is it the thought of something thinking you were dating a guy? I need to think before I speak.
I avoided talking to Curtis for the rest of the night. This morning, he brought me a coffee — this time with milk and sugar — and I said thanks, but I've continued attempting to avoid him.
I made fruit smoothies with Bonnie after she came back from her run, then went on a short walk by myself. I face-timed my parents on the way, showing them the views of the ocean.
After spending an hour chatting to Bonnie and Erin, and later attempting to get some studying done, I decide to read in the hammock on the back porch. The fanfiction I'm reading will be a nice distraction from the real world.
Before I leave, I fill up a clear water bottle with cold water, then because I'm extra, I add lemon and cucumber slices to the water.
The back porch is made of light-coloured wood, stained with salt, like the rest of the house. Beyond it is a pale-green lawn, which I remember was once filled with cricket bats and a cubby house, but is now empty.
I head towards the beige hammock and — oh.
"Hi," says Curtis.
"That's my spot," I blurt.
He's lying in the hammock with a book resting on his chest. Instead of scowling at my words, he tries to sit up, but that's difficult to do and the hammock ends up swaying. "I'll get out," he says.
"That's okay," I say, "you have it."
"No, I'll leave," he says, swinging both of his feet over the side.
Please don't be nice to me. I point a finger at him. "Curtis," I demand.
He stills.
"Stay. I'll sit here." I find a wooden chair and drag it over. One of its legs is shorter than the others, so it rocks when I sit on it, which is annoying as hell. I pick up my water bottle and take a drink.
Curtis watches me for a moment, something like amusement washing over his face before it's replaced with something indecipherable. I've seen that look a couple of times before. It makes me nervous.
"Look at this water," I say to distract him, holding up the bottle. "I'm being so healthy."
"Good job," Curtis says. I think he's being sarcastic until he adds, "that looks yum."
On my phone, I open my web browser and am greeted with thirty different fan fiction tabs. I find the one I want, then glance at Curtis because I can sense him watching me.
He coughs when I catch him. "You can have the hammock if you want."
"I already said it's fine." I wish Curtis would be a dick again. It would make him a lot less distracting. Or, at least, distracting in a different way.
"It's big enough for us to share," he says.
The hammock is quite long, hanging between two poles that hold up the veranda. I think two of the cousins could fit comfortably, but Curtis and I?
"With my legs?" I ask.
He looks at them, and a shiver runs down my spine. "I think we can fit," he says.
It's decided. I'm a masochist because I say, "okay."
Curtis moves down the hammock, so his back is at one end. Carefully, I get into the other end, though it takes a couple of minutes until I'm settled in. We're not able to stretch our legs out completely without them being sandwiched beside each other, feet by the other's hips, so we decide to keep our legs bent up at the knee.
