It Sounded Better in My Head - Nina Kenwood Page 0,17
play it.’
Thirty seconds have passed. Forty. We’re not going to kiss. Of course we’re not. They start the ten-second countdown. He shifts his weight and moves his foot slightly and his shoe touches mine. I can’t tell if it’s accidental or on purpose.
‘Three—two—one!’
We both hesitate. Then I push off the side of the house at the same time he pushes off the fence, and we’re face to face, our bodies close to touching.
It seems like he’s going to say something, so I move slightly closer. He smells unbelievably good.
Alex doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leans over and gently kisses my cheek. His lips are soft, and his stubble is scratchy.
My heart is hammering in my chest.
‘Hey, you two! Minute’s up!’
Alex turns and walks around the corner, and I follow him back out to the party.
Vanessa is staring at us both as I sit back down in the camping chair. I’m trembling a little but trying my very hardest to look normal.
The bottle has been kicked away by this point and everyone has moved on to something else. Alex doesn’t look at me for the next thirty minutes—I know because I sneak a look at him roughly every minute. Vanessa looks at me though. I catch her quickly turning away a few times.
At ten-thirty, I decide to go home. I’ve hardly spoken to anyone since spin the bottle, so I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell anyone I’m leaving.
I hover near Owen for a moment, but he’s deep in conversation. He looks up and I wave, and he waves back. I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure that’s the last time Owen Sinclair and I will ever communicate. I feel a surge of excitement at the fact that I don’t care. I don’t care what this hot guy thinks of me. It feels like maybe the most emotionally stable moment of my life so far.
I book a car and it tells me the driver is two minutes away. I walk through the lounge room and Alex is there, talking to a group of people, including Vanessa. He looks up at me.
‘Hey,’ he says, smiling.
‘Bye,’ I say.
‘You’re going?’
Does he sound disappointed? Surprised? Relieved? I wish Lucy was here so she could help me figure it out.
‘Yup,’ I say.
He gets off the couch and walks over to me. ‘How are you getting home?’
‘Uber.’ I don’t know why I am giving him one-word answers to every question.
‘Is that safe?’ He frowns a little.
‘You’ve never got an Uber before?’
‘Well, yeah, but I mean…’
‘Safe for girls on their own?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s a sexist question.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes.’ I actually have no idea. I am a feminist, but I don’t really know the rules yet. I like the idea that he’s worried about me, but I hate the idea he thinks I’m a little kid who can’t get herself home.
‘Take my number and text me to let me know you got home,’ Alex says.
‘What? No.’ I don’t know why I say this, because the thought of swapping numbers with him makes my heart speed up and my cheeks get warm, and also this is a system Lucy and I have had in place for years. But something about it feels brotherly. I don’t want Alex to treat me like a female version of Zach. I want him to think of me like he thinks of Vanessa, minus the baggage.
‘Come on. If Mum found out I let you get an Uber alone without checking you got home safe, she’ll be so mad at me.’ This is true. Mariella regularly talks to her sons about how to be good men in the world, and one of her favourite topics is teaching them to think and care about the safety of women.
‘Fine.’
I hand Alex my phone and he adds himself as a contact. He passes it back, and we say goodbye. Is there something lingering in his eyes as we do? They seem…soft. Warm. Or maybe I am overthinking things, or maybe I am seeing the reflected glow of his interaction with Vanessa, or the lamp in the corner.
I would dismiss everything between us as a figment of my imagination, but that kiss on the cheek happened.
Outside I wait for my Uber, and check behind me, in case Alex is going to come running after me (in the movie version of my life, someone would always come dramatically running after me), but he doesn’t, and then my car arrives, and I get in.