The man continues to watch me, reading every inch of my face for a reaction. The box I dead bolted and shoved down into the recesses of my heart ten years ago starts to rattle in my chest, and I feel the physical ache of it like a knife through the heart. The moment continues to stretch as I dart my eyes over his beautiful face. Recognition, like a slap to the face, starts to unfurl. I suddenly find things I didn’t even know I was looking for.
His face has filled out, matured, sharpened in its beauty. He was always beautiful, but it was scruffy, never quite so obvious before.
His lips that I knew so damn intimately I could have shaped them out of clay while blindfolded.They’re the same, but now surrounded by manly stubble.
His eyes, they’re different. Hardened. Like they’ve seen things that can’t ever be unseen. They have a sharp edge that wasn’t there ten years ago that makes them unrecognisable.
And his body. Ultimately what’s changed the most in the last ten years. He was always on the taller side, but no-where near as tall as he is now. Back in high school, he was skinny, gangly due to malnourishment. Now he’s a wall of toned, muscled flesh.
But there’s more than that. His once long, always tousled hair how sits neatly swept off his face. His voice is deeper,smoother, and he speaks with a confidence he definitely didn’t have a decade ago.
The once stooped shoulders are nowhere to be found in this man before me who carries himself like someone who knows his importance.
He was a boy back then. Now, he’s a man that I didn’t recognise.
Still, I can’t believe this.
I struggle for breath as tears prick the back of my eyes. Muffled voices try to cut through the air whooshing in my ears, but they bounce away as if I’ve been encased in a bubble. And all the while, he continues to stare as my realisation unfolds before his eyes.
That’s where I’ve heard those words before.It clicks into place like a lost puzzle piece. I said them tohim. Eleven years ago.And just like picking up a book you forgot you’d already read a long, long time ago, things start to feel all too familiar.
“Zayn?” It’s a choked whisper.
His dark eyes fall to my lips. He gives me a small, slow nod.
A strangled gasp escapes my throat, and before that now-thrashing box can come bursting out of my chest, I stand up and flee.
11
ELEVEN YEARS EARLIER
The bottom of my black Mary-Jane’s scuffle along the cobblestone paving as I hike my school bag over my shoulder and edge around the outside wall of our school gym, seeking out a quiet, shady spot to read while I wait for my brother Tony to finish basketball practice. The distant sounds of bouncing balls and sneakers squeaking against polished wood echo out of the overhead windows as I turn a corner and spot the perfect spot to settle in. A gazebo that covers large concrete steps, overlooking the small grassed oval.
Without a soul in sight, I hike my slipping bag up my arm again and head straight for the secluded area, happy that I found a spot I can make my own for the basketball season. My parents won’t let me walk home without Tony because, and I quote, “there are too many sickos around waiting for a pretty girl like you to snatch away, Gianna.” I repeat the words in my head with Mum’s solemn voice and can’t help but snort to myself. What does she think Tony would do to stop someone from taking me? My brother’sscrawny adolescent arms couldn’t throw a punch to save his life.
Regardless, here I am, waiting around after school like a lost puppy searching for a home for the next two hours. Not that I mind too much, really. At least I get to prolong my homework for a couple of hours and immerse myself into the wonderful world of Harry Potter instead, my absolute favourite place to be.
I’m one chapter and a quarter packet of chips deep when I hear someone round the corner, take a few steps and then stop abruptly outside my gazebo. I look up to find a boy standing there, glaring at me with what I can only describe as a mixture of surprise and irritation.
“Hi,” I say politely as my cheeks turn red. I put the chips down and wipe my salty fingers on my grey skirt, sitting up straighter. I can’t help but notice this boy is cute, with roguishly messy black hair that’s long enough to brush his collar, and lightly sun-kissed skin. He looks tall from where I’m sitting, but it’s hard to tell because his shoulders are stooped. Butterflies take flight inside my tummy. Of course I’m sitting here stuffing my face with chips when a cute guy comes along. Of course.
“Hi,” he responds, though not as politely as me. His large hand grips the strap of his school-bag slung over his back, and he avoids my gaze while clenching his jaw. He shifts from foot to foot as though tossing up whether to stay or go. It’s then I realise that my cozy, secluded spot was probablyhiscozy, secluded spot first, and I’ve invaded it.
“Sorry,” I blurt out, tucking a strand of my black hair behind my ear. The one annoying piece that always manages to escape my ponytail. “I hope I’m not intruding. I have some time to kill while I wait for my brother and I just wanted a quiet spot to read.”
“It’s fine,” he says, still avoiding my gaze. “I’ll find somewhere else.”
My heart sinks at his words.No. Don’t go.This boy that I’ve never seen before, that I’ve literally just met, starts to leave and I don’t want him to. Strange, but I’ve never found a guy so intriguing before, and I like the way he’s making my tummy flip.
“No,” I rush out a bit too quickly, startling him. “There’s plenty of room for us both, and I won’t be loud.”
He raises his brows and finally shifts his gaze to mine. What I see makes the butterflies in my stomach go into overdrive, and I hug my book hard against my chest so that he can’t see how rapidly my heart starts beating. His eyes are dark. So dark they could almost pass as black, and they’re framed by beautiful long lashes that I would have to apply three coats of mascara to achieve. Not to say that he looks feminine. Oh no, this guy is one hundred shades of moody, teenage testosterone and honestly, I don’t think my sixteen-year-old heart can take it.
“Okay.” He glances at me warily, before moving past me and sitting in the farthest possible corner of the gazebo. I can’t help but feel offended, even though his surliness seems well-practiced.
Cracking open my book, I try to concentrate on Harry and Ron entering the Forbidden Forest, but not a single word processes in my mind. My attention is fixated on the guy whose side profile I can see in my peripheral vision. He pulls a physics textbook out of his bag (the same book I have, so hemustbe in my grade). I continue to peek out the corner of my eye as he begins taking notes, and I’m surprised to find that his nerdish behaviour is doing massive favours for him in the attractiveness department. Who would have thought a guy studying physics would be soappealing? Yet here I am, unable to concentrate on anything but him.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, breaking my vow of silence with the intention to offer my bag of chips to him. Something about sharing food with this boy sends my blood scattering into a happy panic.
