No Romeo Story

Chapter Fifteen// Twelve Hours

Emily's Point of View

4 months ago

"Your dad knows nothing about football." Jake whispers into my ear. I stare at him, hard. His smile is embedded between a glint shimmering in his eye. I nod regardless and let him resume his conversation.

Jake laughs. My dad laughs. Meaningless to me.

Mom walks out of our back kitchen door with a tray of bread rolls and lemonade balanced on top of her arms. Once she reaches the garden table she places out the food, ending with the wireless radio going next to the barbecue. The table is almost set; we will be eating soon.

She turns the radio up, the one I received as a seventh birthday present from my nana. She isn't here anymore- that's why I use it. Then my favourite song starts playing.

A smile grows on my face as I begin to sing. "And now that I'm without your kisses, I'll be needing stiches."

Mom smiles a knowing smile.

"You seriously like him?" At first he was joking, he always is. His humour usually makes me laugh... usually. My silent reply allows him to go on. "He from Canada?"

Oh my gosh he actually listens to me when I fangirl.

"Yeah."

"Gayyyy." He walks around to a chair and sits down. My smile snaps.

Above the trees, a bird flies low. I stare up. It's blue feathers match my dress, the one I had picked out especially for Jake. His eyes don't seem to be on me. The bird takes flight again and bounces from the branch cascading leaves down around my ankles.

I look up and the blue feathers fly over the garden fence and towards next door's house. I look into the top window next door, opposite mine.

His room is always neat and tidy. Blake's.  Looks as if he has been playing his guitar, the music has stopped now. Every Sunday he used to play. I miss his voice, singing.

I used to read my science text books almost losing the will to live thanks to Mrs Hampton's surprise quizzes she sprung upon us every Monday. (It kind of took away the element of surprise.) But listening to his guitar, his voice, it got me through ionic compounds and the torture of the periodic table.

"You going to sit down or what?" My eyes lower down to the flat expression on Jake's face eyeing up at me.

His concentration is far from my dress, I don't know why I bothered getting flustered about what I wear in front of him. I like this dress. But by his underwhelming reaction, was it worth the price tag I fell out with my dad for?

"Who's hungry?" Mom beams as she pokes sausages through the squarer and places them onto a plate. They go in the centre of the table. I sit down, beside Jake. He hasn't looked at me in a while, properly.

I wonder what it is like, it's hard to describe. I wonder if I'll ever be able to look at someone and say "I love you" and mean it.

Present day

"Morning." He kisses the side of my forehead.

My hair is probably all messy and disgusting from my night cradled in his arms. The strong arms still wrapped tight around me.

"I love you." I whisper against his ear, turning over inside the covers so my face meets his. To my surprise, morning breath isn't an issue, his natural scent overpowering which makes me snuggle up closer to him whenever I inhale.

"Love you too." He says it so naturally, second nature. His voice sooths my body as it tenses slightly.

"How is this going to work?" My eyes lift up and find his soft eyes before his lips kiss my cheek. His breath is warm. "I can hear my parents downstairs. No doubt your mom and dad are worried where you were last night."