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“Where have you been?” a familiar voice demanded, storming into my room and almost giving me a goddamn heart attack in the process. “I have been waiting all night for you!”
“Jesus Christ,” I strangled out, quickly shoving the letter under my mattress. “Claire! What a fucking fright to give a lad.”
“Oops.” Grimacing, she closed my bedroom door and padded over my bed, draped in an oversized Liverpool jersey she had clearly stolen from my wardrobe. I knew it was mine because her brother supported United, while her dad was a die-hard Gunner. “I wasn’t trying to frighten you.” Climbing onto my bed, she sat cross-legged facing me. “I was looking for an explanation.”
“An explanation?” I stared blankly. “I’m not following you, babe.”
“Okay, so I know you saw what happened in the lunch hall today,” she blurted out, reaching for my hand. “And I’m guessing that’s why you didn’t call over after school.”
She was dead on the money, but I couldn’t verbalize it, because in all honesty, I didn’t have a leg to stand on.
“Jamie asked me out.”
Yeah, I got that. “Claire.” Training my attention on her small hand covering mine, I let out a sigh. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain anything to…”
“I didn’t give him an answer!”
My heart bucked wildly. “You didn’t?”
“No, Gerard.” She shook her head slowly. “I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“Yeah.” Exhaling shakily, I kept my attention trained on our entwined hands.
My life consisted of this girl. Of the perfume she wore. Of the smiles she offered. The clothes she chose on a particular day. The colors she painted her nails. She was tattooed inside of me, and I was hooked.
Claire was my safe place.
If I had a shred of anything about me, I would open my mouth and talk to this girl. Tell her how I felt. Show her how highly I valued her as a human. Love her the right way. Switchfoot’s “Only Hope” was as accurate as a song could be if I had to explain my feelings for her, but I would never play it for her.
I could see my friends settling down around me and I was still playing the boy card. Still protecting myself from demons that shouldn’t get to me anymore but still did.
Sensing my sudden decline in mood, Claire sighed dramatically before setting her face in a comical-looking frown. “Gerard Gibson.”
Smirking, I pulled a face in response. “Claire Biggs.”
She waggled her eyebrow like the Rock. “Spud-monkey.”
Indulging her playfulness, I crossed my eyes until they turned inward. “Snuggle bunny.”
She poked her tongue out and rolled it. “Baby daddy.”
I pulled my cheeks until I looked sufficiently disfigured. “Baby mama.”
Cackling with mischief, she scrambled onto her hands and knees and pounced. “My germs,” she snickered, and then proceeded to lick the side of my face.
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” I laughed, wrestling her onto her back.
“Yep.” She giggled from beneath me.
I arched a brow. “Oh, yeah?”
“Uh-huh,” she goaded in a mocking tone. “What are you going to do about it, Gibsie?”
Feeling mischievous, I leaned in close and trailed the tip of my tongue from the curve of her jawline, not stopping until I reached her cheek. “My germs,” I teased before pressing a kiss to the adorable apple of her cheek. “Mine.”
