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“No. Not that I remember. I just… I think she’s just watching out for me. She doesn’t like how Jeremy treats me.”
“How does he treat you?”
I’d been a little sparing on the details with Mum. He’s never been over before, and I’ve not said that we’re going out, just that we’re friends, but she knows I’ve been a goner over him since the summer.
“We’re friends, that’s all. But I’m excited for tomorrow. Did you get the ice cream?”
“Do you even have to ask?” she responds. I guess not. Mum has the freezer permanently stocked — something I love about her.
“Thank you. I’m going to go and tidy my room.”
“Good idea. And remember, door open.” She points at me before retreating into her workshop. Since being back, she’s been super busy and spending more and more time there, which I’m pleased about, especially for tomorrow.
Saturday morning might hold the record for the slowest passage of time ever. The seconds labour each tick on the clock like they’re too tired to care. Concentrating on the words in front of me is hard, but I attempt to go over some of the topics I’m weaker in. Jeremy seems to have no problem in class, but I have to work for it. Maybe he can unlock his secret today.
My stack of flashcards is ready, and I’ve placed colour markers and textbooks on the desk. My wardrobe hides all signs of clothes or anything else embarrassing.
I’ve never had a boy in my bedroom before, and my stomach is tied in knots with nerves.
The doorbell rings, a little later than I’d hoped, but I dash to the door, pause, take a breath, and then open it.
He’s standing there with his bag over his shoulder. He’s wearing a big sweater with his shirt collar up.
“Come in.” I nod and close the door behind him.
He looks around the little hallway.
“Mum, Jeremy’s here. We’ll be studying upstairs,” I call.
“Did you want a drink first?”
“I’m good.” He looks up at the stairs. “Lead the way.”
I squeeze past him and climb the stairs, suddenly conscious that he has a direct view of my arse. I push the thought out of my head and turn at the top into my room.
“This is me.” I look around my space with a double bed on one side and a big desk on the other. In the corner, I have a bean bag chair and a wardrobe with a small, narrow bookcase standing up next to it.
It’s not much, but it’s mine. It’s light and airy, with a few plants on the windowsill and small fairy lights around the picture rail.
He takes a moment to look it over, and I think about what his room must be like.
“Cool.” He walks in, sits at the desk, and pulls out his own books. Grabbing the beanbag chair, I sit at the side of the desk.
“You look organised,” he comments.
“Yes. You thought I wouldn’t be?”
“Well, no. I guess.”
“What do you want to cover? I’ve got a list.” I slide it over to him.
He shakes his head as he starts reading down it.
“Stop, Jeremy, seriously, these will all be on the test.”
He scrunches up his nose and runs his hand through his hair. It’s a little messier than usual today with more curl to it. It suits him. “Okay, inheritance and variation,” I say.
“Urgh, no.”
