It Sounded Better in My Head - Nina Kenwood Page 0,39

I want Alex to feel anything but fine.

‘Hmmmm.’

‘You guys are sort of friends now, aren’t you?’

‘Sort of.’ I busy myself packing up my toiletries bag, which is large enough to almost be an overnight bag: I have an inordinate, embarrassing amount of skincare products that I lug with me everywhere. While I am at the beach house, I am sleeping in a very small amount of tinted moisturiser, just to cover the redness of my old scars, so there is never any chance of anyone seeing my face completely bare.

‘And sharing with him last night was okay?’ Zach asks.

‘It was a bit weird.’

My stomach hurts, thinking of it. I have another chance to be alone in a room with Alex. I want it, I want it so much, but I also want to put nice, safe obstacles in the way of me being able to have it, because that way I can’t ruin it.

‘Okay, let’s not do it then,’ Zach says.

‘Are you disappointed?’ I ask, testing the strength of this obstacle.

‘No.’

‘You have a terrible poker face. I can tell you are.’

‘It’s okay. I don’t really expect you to be comfortable sharing a room with my brother. Lucy said I shouldn’t even ask. And I feel bad that’s what happened last night.’

We look at each other in the mirror.

‘I’m happy to swap beds,’ I say.

‘I don’t want you to,’ Zach says.

‘It’s fine.’

‘No. Now I feel bad.’

‘I want to do it.’

‘No, you don’t.’

‘I kind of do.’ He can’t know how much I kind of do.

‘No, you don’t.’

‘Shut up and stop telling me how I feel. I’m doing it. That’s it. No more arguing.’

‘Okay. All right. Good. Thank you,’ he says.

‘You owe me.’

‘I know.’

‘Big time. You owe me big time.’

‘I know.’

13

A Night in Feelings Town

I tiptoe into the room and shut the door quietly behind me. I hope Alex is on the trundle bed, fast asleep and snoring. That way, I can fantasise about us kissing without it being a possibility. Nothing can happen, and I can be safe in the knowledge that it wasn’t my fault, the opportunity simply never presented itself.

I shuffle forward tentatively, worried I’ll walk into the trundle bed.

‘I’m in the bed,’ Alex says.

‘Zach said you were going to sleep on the trundle.’

‘It’s got a broken spring—it’s like someone is poking you in the back.’

‘I’ll sleep on the trundle,’ I say, delighted I have the opportunity to show how little I care about sharing a bed. I’m just a girl here to sleep. I most certainly do not have a desperate, all-consuming, so-intense-it-hurts crush, and I will unequivocally prove this by sleeping on the trundle.

‘Don’t do that.’

‘I’m doing it,’ I say.

I stub my toe on the edge of the trundle bed as I’m trying to find it, and give out a sort of muffled yelp of pain.

‘What happened?’

‘I banged my toe.’

‘That fucking trundle.’

I crawl onto the trundle bed and lie there for a few seconds. It is extremely uncomfortable. ‘Okay, the spring is really poking into my back,’ I say.

‘I told you.’ Alex sounds amused.

‘I’ll sleep on the floor,’ I say, determined not to give up.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘I’ll make a little nest with blankets and pillows—it’ll be cosy.’ It seems very important I put on a show of not wanting to be in a bed with him. Denying the thing I want the most is very soothing.

‘Natalie. Don’t.’

I like it when he says my name. I don’t want to like it as much as I do.

‘It’s fine,’ I say, and start dragging pillows and blankets onto the wooden floor. Then I lower myself onto the pile.

‘It’s actually not that bad. I think it’s going to be good for my back.’

I swear my back already hurts, down here for two seconds.

I try to find a comfortable way to lie, but the floor is too hard. I am not an animal, I cannot sleep like this. I don’t even know why I’m doing it. I want to share a bed with Alex. What is wrong with me?

I’m scared of him—of anyone—knowing what I want. I’m scared that we’ll share the bed again and nothing will happen again, and I’m not sure I can handle having all these chances that pan out to nothing. On the flip side, the thought of something happening between us is so scary-good stressful, I can’t handle that either. Why are good things so terrible?

‘I’ll make a pillow barrier again,’ Alex says.

I want him to want to kiss me. I want him to want to kiss me