A Touch of Colour

Chapter 7

For some reason, I was actually hopeful he'd be there the next day. Like, somehow, our chat would have instilled a reason for him to come... that maybe I'd be a reason to come.

But my English class third session had an empty spot behind me the whole lesson.

And the bus was free of him when I got on.

And the days rinsed and repeated the same narrative.

"Your pining is on another level," Carys said to me on Friday as, once again, I scanned the ground for a sight of him. We didn't have English today... So my only chance to see if he came was at lunch or on the bus.

"I'm not pining," I mumbled.

"Oh yeah? Then what would you call it?"

"I just... You wouldn't understand because you've always seen colour. But now that I have the option, I just want to keep—"

"Looking at him?"

"Not exactly at him, but the colour, yeah."

"I'm starting to think colour and crush are cut from the same cloth with you."

"My gosh, Carys. No. You're just assuming all this because he's a guy. What if it were a girl in colour?"

"Same thing. I'd be assuming it was time for you to come out."

I rolled my eyes in response and chugged my chocolate milk in the silence... well, my silence. Carys continued to yap on.

"I just think the coincidence of this boy being in colour and him being quite the womaniser from what I've heard is just... well, not believable as a coincidence."

Though I continued to ignore her as I tightened my lid on my drink and went to throw it in the bin.

But the moment I sat down, "Have you had a crush on anyone before?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just answer the damn question."

"I've... had crushes on celebrities."

"That's not the same and you know it."

"How?"

"Well, Harley is a real boy who is here, and celebrities—"

"You never see often? I've seen Harley twice. Not different."

"But he is in-person. You have spoken to him."

"And he's just as unattainable. So your conclusions here—"

"You haven't had a crush before though. That part I'm right on?"

Heaving a sigh, I nodded.

A triumphant smile stole her face as she leaned in. "It has to be related."

"For the millionth time, Carys, I'm not crushing on him. I don't even know him."

"Do you find him cute?"

"Who wouldn't? Even you said he's attractive."

"Do you think he's kind?"

I started to open my mouth to reply that of course he has been nothing but nice to me... but then the moment on the bus flashed through my mind. The one time his attitude was far from charming, the colour disappeared.

My stomach began to churn as I wondered if Carys had been right.

What if this colour thing was a connection to my feelings?