Page 11 of No Fear

She risked looking up and saw Donnie smiling. “You would never be an idiot, and everybody fumbles their first time.” He reached up and she held her breath as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Your first time should be special; with someone you really care about.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really? Is that how it was for you?”

Donnie stepped back, raking a hand over his face. “Why me?”

“Because you’ve always been nice to me, and I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“You’re my best friend’s little sister.”

“God. I’m one year younger. Are you saying there's some kind of bro code?”

“Yes! What would Nate say if he knew?”

“He would never know. Just once. I know I could never be your girlfriend or anything.” She bit her lip, vulnerable and scared.

“Why don’t you think you could be my girlfriend?” He frowned and she looked at him in shock.

“Er....look at me.”

His frown deepened then he glanced at his watch. “I don’t understand.” His gaze met hers again.

“Seriously? You’re going to make me spell it out? I’m short and fat.”

“So, you think I’m all about the looks? You don’t think too much of me, do you?” He looked offended.

“That’s not what I meant. I mean...” She faltered.

“Not everything is about physical attraction, but for the record, you are beautiful. You shouldn’t compare yourself to anyone else. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

She blushed, at a loss for words. The hottest guy in school had just told her she was perfect. Donnie looked at his watch again. Clearly, he wanted to leave.

She stepped back. “You obviously have somewhere you need to be. It’s OK, you can go. This was probably a bad idea. I shouldn't have asked. Forget it.” She turned away to hide the tears in her eyes.

“Did you hear what I said?” He reached out, placing a hand on her arm and she looked up at him.

“I... yes...thank you. But you don’t have to be nice to me just because I’m Nate’s sister.”

Donnie shook his head. “That’s not why I said it. You are beautiful. Inside and out.”

He glanced at his watch again. “Hang on, let me send a text.”

Charlie waited, unable to speak. This was not how she had expected this conversation to go. Finally, Donnie pocketed his phone, then surprised her by taking her hand and leading her to the couch to sit down. He sat beside her but didn't let go of her hand.

“I like you, too.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“So, is that a yes to my question?” she asked, her voice trembling with nerves.

“No.”

Disappointment flooded her and she tried to pull her hand away, but Donnie tightened his grip.

“I like you,” he repeated. “Why do you think I’ve been hanging out here so much? All the conversations we’ve been having? I like talking to you. I like being with you. I like looking at you.”

Charlie had stopped breathing. Was this happening? Or was this some kind of practical joke.