Our Love is Born

Sick

The next few weeks of school were spent with the boys, spending most of our spare time in their garage while they practiced their songs, and I studied furiously on their old tattered couch.

Josh greeted me every morning with a small flower and a huge smile, which were almost always accompanied with a cheesy line from a poem.

I had come to a rocky and embarrassing conclusion that I really liked Josh. Really, really liked him. And his naturally flirty nature did nothing to calm this new interest of mine.

I got butterflies every time I read over his writing when revising his class notes, and had a rush of adrenaline every time he spoke to me, laughed with me, or touched me.

We had exchanged numbers the day after our picnic, and it was routine to text each other silly nothings before bed, making me squeal and giggle before falling asleep.

I now stood in front of my mirror, heaps of clothes thrown across the bedroom floor as I sorted through copious amount of clothes for the perfect outfit. The boys were playing at the town hall tonight and I was stressing over an appropriate outfit to wear.

Finally, a long flowy linen skirt caught my gaze, small details of stitched flowers and vines flowed from the bottom and faded out once it reached my knees. Standing in only the skirt and my bra, I looked at myself in the mirror, cocking my head to the side and tracing the scar on my hip that disappeared below the hem of the skirt, a particularly deep and nasty cut I earned from the accident. I grimaced at the sight of it, at the idea of it being so visible.

I huffed, and sorted through my tops until I decided on light green cotton top. It had frilly straps that sat on my shoulders, and tied together at my sternum and details of stitches and lace littered the edges. My hair fell down my shoulders in long waves, and I spent a few minutes plaiting small braids into the wavy mess. I grabbed a crochet bag, and picked out some brown sandals to slip on my feet.

I wasn't used to dressing so thin, but Josh assured me that the temperature in the hall was far too hot for a jumper, partly from the heating in the room, and partly from the sweating mess of the crowd. Nevertheless, I grabbed a little cardigan and threw it over my shoulders to keep me warm incase.

"Dad! I'm ready to go," I bellowed as I hopped down the steps.

He looked up at me from his spot in the kitchen and smiled, "You look gorgeous honey."

"Thanks Dad."

He grabbed his keys and led me out to the driveway to our car. The boys had to get to the venue early, so I needed a lift from Dad.

"Where is Mum these days? I asked as we climbed into the seats. "I barely ever see her anymore," I frowned.

He took a big breath before driving the car off, "Busy with work I guess, I don't really see her anymore either."

I hadn't seen Mum since Tuesday night, when I stayed up particularly late messaging Josh, and accidentally bumped into her in the kitchen while she was coming in from work. It was safe to say she was very busy. But she always was.

We pulled up to the parking lot and I leaned over to kiss Dad on the cheek, thanked him for the ride and hopped out of the car.

"See you tomorrow!" I yelled. The concert was meant to end at eleven and Josh was driving me home, so I had convinced dad not to wait up for me. As I made my way through the venue doors, I let the warmth that Josh had warned me about seep into my skin.

The stage was almost fully set up, and the rest of the room was crowded with people. Some faces I recognised, but most I didn't. The stench of beer and sweat was potent and made me cringe as I shimmied my way to the front of the crowd.