III.

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by westwicks

by westwicks

this is short and probably uninteresting because i've been busy and tired but i figured i should upload. so, hi.

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CHAPTER THREE

I waited rather impatiently for the following Saturday to arrive. I woke up every morning at 7am sharp and checked my calendar twice (just to make sure I was right and that the day I was anticipating hadn’t suddenly crept up on me) and then I counted the smooth notes in my wallet. The reason I counted the £55 I had saved was to make sure I’d have enough – to make sure they all stayed smooth and straight and even. At one point, I thought I had £56 including the coins, so I put one in my mum’s purse; I didn’t want uneven change, and I couldn’t keep uneven change.

My mum knew something was up as she always did, watching me with her brown eyes narrowed into a curious stare. She had even more wrinkles when she did this. Once I’d gotten up and completed my hourly ritual, I kissed each and every one until she was rolling her eyes; and still, she smiled. She understood.

When Saturday came, I told my mum that I’d take her turn instead. That was when she really knew something was up, because she knew that I absolutely hated mixing up the turns. I hated mixing up the turns. I hated mixing up the turns. I absolutely hated it.

“Sweetheart, is something bothering you? You’re actually awfully strange.” When she said this, mum laughed uncomfortably, almost as if she was worried. I didn’t like her worrying about me.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Trust me.”

“It’s a girl, isn’t it?”

I just smiled as she raised her eyebrow, a knowing smile twitching on her lips. The last time I’d liked a girl let alone looked at one was a long time ago, but she knew. Mum always knew.

I spent an extra 10 minutes choosing what to wear, but I didn’t want to start over. I didn’t want to miss Paige, though when I arrived 2 minutes quicker than anticipated – I walked really fast, even though there were a lot of cracks in the pavement – it seemed I already had.

Regina was there at the counter with her red hair wild and crazy, hanging in tight curls around her head; I felt the urge to count each ringlet that framed her face, but I forced myself against it. It wasn’t often I saw Regina, though I knew that she knew more about me than most. What was wrong with me, mainly. Glancing around, I searched as discreetly as I could for the girl from last week without seeming strange – or, stranger than I already seem.

My palms were sweaty. I felt the urge to shower. I wanted to shower. Small, soft hands covered my eyes and my heart began to race even faster, uncomfortably thumping against my ribcage as my shallow breathing increased further. If I wasn’t so scared, I would’ve counted each beat. One, two, three, five, seven, six – I couldn’t keep up.

Warmth tickled my neck. “Guess who?”

“Paige,” I breathed, heat creeping onto my skin and floating up my neck to touch my face. Paige. Paige. Paige. I repeated her name to the beat of my slowing heart.

“Wow, you’re good,” she said, and I could tell she was smiling just by the way her voice raised an octave higher and by the way a light chirp of laughter tumbled from her lips. “So, you haven’t forgotten me yet?” Paige removed her hands from my eyes and as I turned around, she had her hand placed casually-confident on her hip; I read her body language as comfortable, like she’d known me forever. In reality, I didn’t know her at all. I’d met her only last week.

When my eyes met hers, I counted her freckles. One, two, three, four, five – eight, nine, ten – and then I stopped. My counting wasn’t the only thing that stopped; my heart did, too. Paige was skimming over me, raising her eyebrow as she spoke. I only saw her lips move – they were cherry red today – and wrap around words. I couldn’t stop staring.

And then I saw her hand wave a few inches away from my face, cutting me away from the sudden awe and bringing me back to reality. “Uh, hello? Earth to Cam? You totally just spaced out on me.” Paige laughed the same laugh as last week, a combination of bells and her quirk but this time softer on my ears. It was almost as though her voice was a cushion for me to rest my head on. Her laugh was like bells. Her laugh was like bells. Her laugh was –

“O-Oh!” I jolted my words and pushed back my hair, struggling to look anywhere but at her. My mother’s words, once again, echoed in the back of my head. Don’t stare, it makes people uncomfortable. Don’t stare, it makes people uncomfortable. Don’t stare, it makes people uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I do this – this thing.” I lifted my hand to gesture to nowhere in particular, hoping she wouldn’t ask any questions. I didn’t like explaining my disorder. I didn’t like feeling more of an outcast than I already am. I didn’t want to scare her away. I wanted her to like me.

Instead of quizzing me for answers, she just nodded as if she understood. How could she understand?

“Do you want to go somewhere? I mean, my shift is over now but you don’t have to if you’d rather not.”

Was I making her nervous? Why would she be nervous? My palms were sweating and my neck was flushed pink and holy shit, I was making her nervous. I felt as though my heart was about to leap out of my chest so I counted her freckles as quickly as I could without stumbling until everything... slowed down. And then I gave my reply.

“Sure.”