What I Couldn't Tell Him

17 - Its F*cking Amazing!

JAIMIE PERRON

I watch him, deciding if he is being serious.

"Only if you want to I mean..." He stumbles, cheeks flushing with colour. He drops eye contact in embarrassment and I have to admit, it makes my stomach flutter. I tell myself to stop thinking like that; it won't happen. He has so many choices, he wouldn't choose me, even if he could. Its easier to think like that.

Then I internally slap my own face. Sort yourself out.

"No. I want to see it." I smile and he lifts his eyes again, excitement flushing back in. He grins and I furrow my eyebrows. He widens his window with an agonising creak and I grimace. If he wakes anyone up...

That isn't the problem now as he swings his leg over the windowsill and tenses on the balls of his feet.

"What are you doing?" I hiss. He looks at me again, a cheeky glint in his eye and I pretend I am not blushing and hope it is hidden in the dark.

"Can you open it any wider?"

"Yeah..." I swing it open slowly and step back.

"Then move." He throws himself out of the window, and in a horrible cliche, lands right on top of me. I didn't have time to register it, telling myself that jumping out of the window was ridiculous. We land hard, muffled by a pile of pillows on the floor. His face is an inch from mine, and he stays there for a moment, staring right into my eyes. I feel an awkward silence as he continues to stare, lips slightly parted, smiling at me.

"You can get up now," I mumble, rolling him onto the floor. I laugh as he picks himself up and frowns at me.

"You weren't supposed to stand there."

"You weren't supposed to jump out of the bloody window!"

We try to keep a straight face and only last a few seconds until we are panting in a pathetic attempt to cover our laughs. I can see his teeth and eyes glowing in the dark room. I shoo him out and pull on a baggy jumper and some jeans, hastily applying mascara. I put a finger on my lips and stumble downstairs. He follows me, I point at the creaky stairs and cringe when he steps on them accidentally.

Eventually, after a few whispered curses and cringes, we make it outside and I shut the door with a click.

We walk straight to his bike. He waits for me to climb on, admittedly not very gracefully. He pulls away, the engine growling as we turn the corner past the huge house on the corner, and the park. Then we are on the smooth, straight road that is lined with tall, evergreen trees. We rise and fall with the road until I spot the dusty lay-by, looking a little grimmer in the dark.

He climbs off and puts a hand out for me. I scoff and jump down, walking into the woods, as he follows chuckling to himself.

He walks next to me, wasting a hell of a lot of phone battery on flashlight because we aren't very well prepared.

We pass the point where we abandoned it last time, and walk on, avoiding the mounds of earth and fallen trees. He lights up the obstacles as I meet them, only stumbling once or twice. Neither of us speak.

Eventually, he stops. I need the light to carry on, so I stop too.

"Jaimie, don't think I'm really weird for liking somewhere like this. When I was little I used to come and it is just something I like, I would totally understand if you didn't -"

"Calm down!" I laugh, giving him a reassuring smile, "I'm sure I will."

He nods, grunts, and walks ahead. I catch up to share the slim beam of light. Our arms brush occasionally and we both pull back awkwardly, as much space separating us as we can have on the narrow trail.

Then he stood again. This time I spin and give him a curious glance.

"Its behind that blackberry bush." He points and I see the sprawling shadow of it ahead. He walks on and I am frustrated by his brooding, pausing, grunting and then the bipolar changes of mood.

We push through the branches, my sleeve getting snagged and he unhooks it wordlessly. Then I see a waterfall.

I didn't hear the soft splash of water before, and it is very apparent now. The water is crystal clear and surrounded by lush forest. Trees hang over like they're admiring the view, and others curl away into the shadows. The light is brighter here and I can see the shimmering flow of water trickling slowly over pebbles and stones that disappear into the deeper parts, their smooth shapes still visible under the shifting surface.

Most teenage girls would say a romantic scene would happen here; the bad boy goes soft and they share a moonlit kiss, but I don't agree. This is a place for memories, like Alden connects it to.

I look at Alden, who is staring in a trance. It takes him a minute to see me watching him, and the excitement on my face. Then, in a typical change of mood, a grin breaks out across his face.

"You like it?"

"It's f*cking amazing!" I smile, watching the water for a long time, and the calm pond underneath it. It looks cool and refreshing.

I walk closer, and take my shoes off, letting my feet float idly in the shallow part. It tickles my toes and you can see the purple nail polish shimmering under the surface. It is cool, but not cold, even in the middle of the night. I make out details, birds, leaves and flowers winding up tree trunks, my eyes accustomed to the dark.

I stay for a long time, then Alden sits next to me. He keeps his feet on the bank, perched on his heels, and runs a hand through his hair. His eyes are still heavy from sleep, but I notice a dreamy haze over his face.

I look closer, seeing beads of sweat in his hair and his skin is sallow, even in the moonlight. He wrings his hands together anxiously.

"Alden?..."

"Mmm?"

"Have you had a cigarette?" I ask slowly. His eyes flash, then he shakes his head.

My dad smoked before he left. At the time I beloved it was tobacco, but I'm not so sure anymore. It was a newly developed habit, contradicting what he believed before. I remember him being outside for hours, not taking a breath without one between his lips. He lit them expertly, a repeated cycle. He took one day without them and he was snappy, hissing at us, skin sallow and eyes swollen.

"We can go and get some if you want," I suggest, pulling my feet out of the cool water.

He puts a hand on my shoulder. I turn to face him. His eyes are weary but gentle. He hesitates, then slumps down onto the grassy bank around the pond.

"I don't need one." His voice comes out choked and stressed.

"If you need one, it's fine," I reply, trying to ease his anxiety. He looks at me again, forehead creased and determined.

"I'm going to stop." He declares. I pause for a minute, worried. I said some things to him, and I feel like I have induced this. I want him to stop, but I want him to be relaxed too. I am worried that this is because of me.

"Why?"

He sounds confused, "I don't know."

He puts his hands on his forehead, sighing. He looks stressed and strained.

I feel like I need to do something, so I do. I sit up and wrap my arms around his neck, leaning up on my knees. He doesn't try to hold me there, just breathes out. His face is in my hair, which is hanging loosely around my shoulders.

I sit back down on my heels and he looks slightly stunned. We stare at each other for a moment, when his face adopts a smirk. He stands up and I copy him hesitantly. Then, eyes lit by the moon, he shoves me into the water.