Chapter 10 Hope
HOPE
Heath parks at the end of the block—I asked him to—and faces me. His stare burns a hole in the side of my face and makes my neck burn.
“I should go,” I say. My own voice sounds weak to my ears.
We both know I’m scared.
“It’s getting late.” It’s not late. I have three hours till my curfew.
I made Heath drive me home straight from school so we haven’t spent a single minute together other than at the rooftop.
Even after spending the whole day with him, I want to spend more time with him. Before there was only talking, but now our time together includes hugs and kisses and I like those so much. And I want more. An endless supply will do.
You’re my girl.
My heart leaps.
I haven’t been able to ask him what it means. It could be that I’m his girl like a girl best friend. But he wouldn’t be kissing me then. Or I’m like a special my girl that he wants to kiss and hug, but doesn’t want to date.
I have so many questions to ask, but I have zero courage to face him, look him in the eye and just ask.
I grab my bag from the floor and hug it to my chest. I reach over to open the door, but the locks clicks in place.
“You’re not going to say goodbye to me, Rose?” Heath asks, his voice rough and husky as it scrapes over my skin and raises goosebumps.
Without looking at him I say, “Um, goodbye. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Oh my God.
That sounded so cringe.
See you tomorrow?
I want to die after saying that.
I’m still pondering over my absurd sentence delivery when his fingers brush away my hair from the side of my face and expose me to him. The intense blush that climbs up on my cheeks and clings there makes me nervous.
His knuckle swipes back and forth over my cheek, and a soft breath escapes my mouth.
Oxygen leaves the car and it feels like there’s no air for me to breathe.
“You’re not looking at me,” he says thoughtfully. “I like it when your eyes are locked on me.”
My hold on my bag gets tighter.
“Rose,” he calls me and it’s impossible for my body to not answer.
I sheepishly peek at him and all I see is confidence oozing off of him.
Do I even affect him like he affects me?
“There are your eyes. They are as beautiful as you.”
“You have prettier eyes than me,” I retort, finally finding my voice back.
His lips twitch as if he disagrees.
I clear my throat. “I have to go.”
His mood changes immediately. His eyes turn dark and his face loses its gentleness.
“You don’t have to.”
My lips curve in a sarcastic smile. “I have to. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“That’s not fucking true.”
“It’s fine. I mean, it’s not that bad. He…hasn’t hurt me since Friday.”
“It doesn’t mean that he won’t hurt you again.”
I know that. “Thank you for today. It meant a lot to me.”
He was my safe place today and I hid in him, not wanting to face the world. I’ve never had that before. Somewhere else to go when things got hard at home. I read books for escapism, but this was different. It made me feel good in a way I have never before.
“Don’t go in that house,” Heath says, gruffly.
“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”
“I cannot do that.”
I give him a weak smile. “Don’t follow me, please.”
Something on my face makes him unlock the car.
I get out of the car and wave him before turning around and walking down my to my house.
I don’t have to look back to know that Heath is the same spot, keeping an eye on me.
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The moment I shut the door behind me, I sense the eerie silence in the house. It puts me at calm because I know he isn’t home.
Most kids like it when their parents are home—I used to when it was just mom and I—but it’s the opposite for me. I like it when it’s empty because it means I don’t have to be afraid or careful.
Walking into the kitchen, I see everything clean and the place neat. No doubt that Mom was here in the morning and tidied up.
Instead of going into my room, I put my bag on the floor near the doorway, and enter the space.
I don’t know how long Dad will be out, but until he is, I want to relish in every second of his absence.
Opening the cabinets, I grab a pot and set it on stove after filling it with water. Taking out the pasta from the other cabinet I pour it in about half a packet and add oil and a little salt.
I know I’m being a fool for every second that I’m spending here and not in my room, but it’s been months since I’ve felt this light.
I was alone in school and at home. No one to talk to or spend time with.
It’s taken me a lot of time to finally accept the fact that I have people in life who care about me.
There are still times when I doubt them and their intentions, but really, I’m just doubting myself because I can’t trust something this good to happen to me.
I have friends.
I think about this fact every day and each day the truth sinks a little deeper inside me, as if looking for a ground to land and plant itself.
A guy likes me.
Now that’s a truth that seems incredibly unreal to me.
I mean, I’m nothing like the other girls who are pretty, brave, funny, sarcastic, sweet or possess a million other good traits that makes it easier for guys to fall in love with them.
All the female characters that I’ve met have everything, and it makes perfect sense when the male character can’t help but fall in love with them because they are just amazing.
But in real life, things are not like that. People have flaws, insecurities and imperfections.
Here I’m thinking about love, but it’s too good of a thing to happen to someone like me.
Sometimes I wonder what Heath sees in me, because no other guy ever saw it before and they all had perfectly functioning eyes.
I never caught the eye of a guy who wanted me like Heath does.
Someone who wants to protect me, care about me, and fight for me.
I know it’s not sex that he wants.
If that were the case, he would have made advances but he hasn’t.
We’ve done nothing other than kissing and hugging.
The strangest thing is, he seems to be satisfied with that as if he doesn’t care if we get to the intimacy or not.
My body warms at the thought of sex and intimacy. I’ve only ever read about it. I wonder if all those things actually happen.
I have zero experience in the department. I’ve never touched myself let alone someone else.
So really, I don’t see what Heath gets out of this relationship that we share.
I prepare the sauce for pasta as the warm sunlight of the sunset falls like a wave into the room and drowns it in golden. A calm and peace hang in the air.
I pour the pasta into the sauce and mix it well.
The fresh colors of the vegetables and the vibrance of the red tomato sauce look enticing, I feel proud of myself.
This pride is different than when I get perfect scores—because I work hard for them.
This is me being good at something I’m not good at.
After a few minutes, I taste the pasta off the spatula and grin, it tastes heavenly. I’m half convinced that I didn’t make it myself.
I pour some in the fancy white china plate that Mom rarely use because it’s reserved for special events like birthdays, anniversaries and guests—we never have guests over.
For some reason, today feels special to me as if I’ve survived, although a war awaits me. When Dad comes later today, all the calm and peace will sweep out of the house.
It’s a worry that I’ll tire myself over later.
On the pasta, I also sprinkle some unevenly cut coriander just to make it look good. Then I rush upstairs and lock myself in my room.
I turn around deciding to read as I eat it, but I see the empty space where my book wall used to be.
The plate almost slips off from my hands, but I grip it at the last second.
All my books are gone. I don’t have anything to read.
My throat bobs painfully and the reminder of happened comes back like a bullet and knocks the air out of me.
Breath in. Breath out.
Heath’s words come to me and I repeat them in my head as I practice breathing and calm myself down.
I sit on the bed in a way that my back is facing the gone-book wall. I know it’ll be too hard for me to glance at the spot and not miss the books I’ve lost.
I take a bite when my phone pings with a text.
Heath: Do you like it?
I frown.
Hope: Like what?
Heath: You haven’t checked your bag.
Hope: What’s in my bag?
Heath: See for yourself.
I rush to my bag and open it. I don’t see anything new there. Just to be sure, I move my notebooks and folders. It’s at the end of them, tucked under my pencil case that I find a book. I take it out and read the title.
Love in Hate. It’s the latest and the last book in the series. I’ve read the first three: love in steps, love in chords, love in notes and truly loved them. I can’t believe he bought it this soon. It released this weekend.
I open the first page and see that it’s a signed copy with my name. I’ve never had a personalized signed copy before. Never. Ever.
Hope: You didn’t have to.
Heath: I wanted to.
A smile curves on my lips and a rush of happiness flows through me.
Hope: Thank you so much.
Heath: You’re welcome.
I set aside my phone when another message pops up on the screen.
Heath: Text me as you read the book.
My fingers still on the keyboard. How can I stop myself back from falling in love with a guy like him? He’s making it too hard. I can’t hold myself back. Every little thing that he does makes my feelings for him stronger.
I put away my phone instead of sending him a text. I don’t know what to say to him.
Grabbing the book, I sit on the bed and start reading it while eating the pasta that I made. I grin at how good it tastes and paired with one of my most anticipated reads it tastes even more delicious.
The sun sets, painting the sky in beautiful shades of orange, pink and yellow.
Shadows dance on the walls in the canvas of the golden light.
The chirping of the birds comes from the tree nearby that is in Nadina’s backyard.
I glance over and see a meticulously nest made of sticks where a sparrow family is sitting together.
Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be fine.