He moves his hands to the side of my face, his fingers sending jolts of electricity into my ears. ‘Just one thing.’
‘Yeah?’
His eyes look past me. ‘I can’t… Nobody can know about this.’
There it is.
‘Oh.’
‘I’m still trying to figure things out, you know? I’ve never…’
My head aches as the light from the vision shines through the window. ‘Yeah, I get that. I just don’t know…’
Paul sits back. ‘Sorry, look, I like you. I’ve liked you since I met you.’
‘Really?’
He blushes. ‘Yeah, ever since you walked in on me in the bathroom.’ He laughs as I blush. ‘No, it was sweet. You make me laugh and, I dunno, I’ve wanted to kiss you. I’ve wanted this. I think it’s why I ended things with Ellen. I’ve never felt… This feels different. Know what I mean?’
I nod.
‘But…I can’t just… I don’t know what this is yet, what I am. But I know I want to do this, with you…’
He strokes my hand. I should go.
‘I mean, you haven’t told your family either, right?’
I take my hand away. ‘No, but I want to.’
Do I?
‘I just need some time. I won’t mess you about, I promise.’
I shrug. I so want this to be different to Ben. Maybe it will be. He likes me.
Paul puts his hand on mine again. ‘I understand if you wanna stop. I just want to be honest with you.’
I lean in. ‘I don’t want to stop.’
‘And you’ll keep this between us?’
My stomach twists. This is depressingly familiar territory. There’s a dull throb as I mutter, ‘Absolutely.’
We kiss. A lot. We don’t stop until well after the credits finish.
I sneak home, ignoring the light blazing from the bottom of the estate and go to sleep with a smile on my face and my chest heavy with another secret.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The next three days blend into each other. Mum and I go to the hospital. We hold Dad’s hand and talk about what we’ve done that day. We watch the news: more riots across the country. African families run out of their homes just a few kilometres from here. Over thirty people arrested. Huge anti-racism demos take place while white politicians debate racism and ‘legitimate concerns’. We turn off the news. We comfort each other.
Dad is now in a medically induced coma. They’re doing tests to determine if he’s suffered any brain damage.
Inconclusive.
Nanny Bet sits stiffly in the hard plastic chairs in the waiting room and refuses any offer of help from Mum or the nurses.
I still struggle to speak to her.
