Riding on Air (9 page)

I stiffened the muscles in my face, making sure the interested expression stayed in place even though I could have killed her. Any other time I'd have been so there, but I wanted William all to myself. Hello, first date? I didn't want to share his attention, now it had actually, miraculously turned my way like I'd fantasised about so much. Not yet. And definitely not with Tash. Even wearing her boring navy blue school jumper and plaid skirt after an afternoon at the dentist she looked stunning, her hair cascading over her shoulders in loose waves. If William spent more than five minutes in Tash's company he'd fall in love with her instead. Not that I thought he was in love with me or anything. I might be crushing badly on him, but I wasn't totally crazy.

But that didn't mean I wanted to just hand him over to Tash, either, because he was no good to her anyway; she already had a boyfriend. And Jack Patterson waiting in the wings. I tried to send urgent telepathic vibes to William to say no.

William glanced at me and I kept a grin glued to my face, all the while hoping he could see straight through it to how desperate I was underneath not to have our date interrupted. OK, actually I hoped he wouldn't really see how desperate I was—maybe just enough to know I'd rather be alone with him than share the time with my friends.

“That'd be great,” William said, obviously misreading my face.

So, nix on the telepathic mind powers then, too. I carefully kept that smile on my face, supplying an occasional shrug during the debate that followed about where exactly to eat. I didn't care. A slow throb started deep in my teeth and jaw, concentrated between my top lip and my nose, and I peered at the oversize watch on my wrist to see if I could take a painkiller (not a Clydesdale-strength pill; Dad hadn't relaxed his grip on those yet) but I still had another half-hour or so to wait.

“Is that OK with you?” William asked me, sliding his arm around my back.

I stared up at him, my hair standing on end.

“Sure,” I said, with absolutely no idea what I was agreeing to. Body contact definitely seemed to short-circuit some of the essential wiring in my brain. Out of my peripheral vision I saw Eleni and Tash exchange a glance, Tash's arched eyebrows climbing up almost beneath her hair.

“I didn't think you liked Thai,” Eleni said.

“You're always saying I should try things.” Crap. I'd never had Thai; I'd never wanted to, just the smell of it put me off. Surely there'd be something I could eat. I could just pretend I wasn't hungry, if I really got desperate. I hadn't planned to eat dinner out, though of course I'd had a tiny hope that William might want to. Just not with Eleni and Tash along. Immediately I felt like a bitch, like a bad friend. I did want them, of course I did; just not right then.

“Whatever we're doing we better do it soon,” I added, with an exaggerated glance at my watch. “I can't be home too late.”

Tash gave me the big eye roll. “That's more like the Melissa I know.” Her glance flickered to William, still standing there with his arm draped around my shoulders, warming me from the skin inwards. “Or maybe not,” she added with a sly grin.

I scowled at her and I think the telepathy worked that time, when I sent her furious thoughts to shut up, because she grinned and flicked her hair back over her shoulder.

“Thai, OK,” Tash said and started weaving her way out of the crowded food court, confident we'd follow. Which, of course, we all did. If I didn't love her so much I'd probably hate her.

“So, how long have you two been going out?”

I knew Tash would pounce at the earliest opportunity. However, even though I was expecting it, I did think she'd at least wait until the waitress had finished seating us.

William sat next to me and intercepted the menu the waitress was thrusting in my direction, laying it on the table in front of me. He took one for himself and dragged his chair closer to mine (OMG!) and I watched, fascinated, as Tash's expression morphed from curious through speculation and into calculation. A quiver wriggled through my stomach and I wasn't sure whether it was nervous pleasure at the casual press of William's thigh against mine, or sudden fear of what Tash might say or do next.

She was always on about how I should be more adventurous and she had an alarming habit of springing things on me in an effort to provoke some kind of response. It was usually easy enough to resist her; nearly everything she thought of was impossible anyway because of my hands. People who don't have anything wrong with their hands have no idea how much they depend on them. They don't have to think about it.

She gazed at me now for a long moment, her smoky eyes peering at me speculatively. “Well?”

“This is our first date,” William replied before I could form an answer.

“Yeah?” Tash said and her eyes narrowed at me meaningfully. I shook my head at her and she gave me a look that let me know I might escape a grilling tonight, but I was going to be closely interrogated at her earliest convenience on the matter of neglecting to inform her this was on the horizon. I didn't need telepathy to understand that, at least. Imagine if she knew how long I'd been interested in William without telling her. Tash would never understand why I hadn't told her.

How could she understand that the way I felt about William was just another reminder of the differences between me and ordinary girls? I was ugly with an ugly disease, so wishing for someone like William was just torturing myself. And even sitting here at the table in the brightly lit restaurant with the unbelievable but undeniable fact that William was sitting beside me didn't ultimately change that. I didn't know why he kept coming back or why he was here now. I tried not to question it, tried just to enjoy it while it lasted, but I was finding that impossible.

I looked down at the menu, pretending to read the selections, even though my stomach was tying itself in such painful complicated knots the thought of eating anything made me want to puke. Warmth and weight stole over my thigh just above my knee and I froze, my breath catching in my throat as William's hand settled on my leg beneath the table where nobody could see. His long fingers wrapped around the hard bump of my kneecap and I had to squeeze my toes together inside my sneakers to force my leg to stay still.

I turned my head to look at him, wondering how he knew—if he knew—that it was safe to give my knee a friendly squeeze, like he'd just done, because for some random reason my knees and elbows remained basically unaffected by the JRA. So far, at least. William looked back at me, his deep blue eyes a lighter shade than usual under the artificial lighting, and his face creased up in that slow smile that turned my stomach over. His fingers closed briefly on my kneecap once more, then he looked away and asked Tash what dishes she recommended and I could breathe again.

Although I wasn't going to have to pretend I wasn't hungry. There was no way I could eat now.

“Is something wrong?” William waited until I was well clear before he shut the passenger door of his ute behind me. It might be only our first date, but I'd already learned he liked to open doors and to help me out of the car. I was torn between admiring such old-fashioned manners and wondering if he just did it because he thought I couldn't. William thrust a leg out to gently push one of Dad's panting dogs away. “Siddown,” he said firmly and the dog heard the calm authority in his voice and obediently padded back towards the shadows of the veranda to the rest of the pack, duty done.

The light from the porta-flood attached to the corner of the garage cast a circle of brightness over me, William and the front of his ute, leaving everything beyond in darkness. It was like standing beneath a spotlight on a stage and I shuffled my feet uncomfortably in the gravel of the driveway, paranoid that Dad or Jennie or either of my stepbrothers might be peering out through one of the many windows facing this way. I wouldn't put it past them. Any of them.

“No, why?” I slid my hands into the pocket-pouch of my hoodie, insulating them from the cool late night air.

“You've been really quiet.”

I'm always quiet, I thought, but I didn't say it. I shrugged.

“I'm fine,” I said. I shifted from one foot to another, the gravel making that crunching, slithery, kissing sound beneath my sneakers. Heat flushed through my skin at the thought of kissing and I stepped quickly out of the gravel and onto the brick path leading up to the veranda steps. I heard William's boots crunching behind me and I stopped and turned, but I'd misjudged how closely he was following me because he was unexpectedly right there, the buttons of his shirt inches from my eyes.

I jerked backwards, my heel caught the raised edge of one of the old bricks and tipped me off balance. I tried to get my hands free of my pocket but I was too slow, too habitually afraid of hurting them, and I could feel myself going. I know that feeling, where your weight has passed that tipping point where it's still possible to save yourself and a fall is inescapable. I've fallen off horses often enough to recognise when it's worth hanging on and when it's better to let go and prepare for the fall. I stopped trying to get my arms free for balance and just tucked my hands in closer to make sure they were protected.

Only, I didn't fall. It took me longer to realise that than it had to resign myself to falling and I just stood there for an impossibly long moment with William holding my upper arms while I was still waiting for the crash onto the bricks. My disorientation was momentarily deepened when we were abruptly plunged into darkness.

“What the—are you OK?”

“Yes,” I muttered, head spinning as though I really had fallen. “You caught me.” Again. I was heading into Bella Swan territory—always needing to be saved.

“What's happened to the light? Can you see? Are you OK?”

“Fine,” I said truthfully, as my eyes began to adjust and that false-dizziness stopped. “The light's on a sensor,” I added.

“Oh, OK.”

I couldn't see his face clearly, just a pale shape in the darkness, but I could feel his eyes on me.

“You need to pick your feet up,” William said, “or I might think you're falling for me.”

My throat swelled in alarm at how close he'd come to the truth, although the real truth was this was a fall I'd taken months ago. Every minute I spent with him only made me want him more.

“Melissa? That was a joke.”

“I know,” I choked out, wishing it wasn't so, wishing there was some truth in those teasing words.

“Are you crying? Did I hurt you?” Anxiety changed the sound of his voice, made it deeper, and a strange little flutter passed through my belly.

“No, no, I'm fine.”

“Your hands?”

“Fine, really. I'm fine.” Although I was starting to be not fine. My hands, my stupid bloody hands. Always in the way. Always what people fixated on.

The weight of his hands on my arms became unbearable, like a promise of something I couldn't have. “I better go in,” I muttered as I moved to pull away.

His fingers tightened on my arms, pulling me back. “Wait.”

“What for?” I turned towards him again, wondering what he wanted, heart thumping hard against my ribs, hard enough to make my stomach a little queasy.

“Just this,” he said as he bent down and kissed me.

Heat exploded in the anxious vault of my stomach and swarmed out through my veins, storming my skin. My twisted hands grew clammy where they hid in the safety of my pouch-pocket, even as my fingers curled in an instinctive desire to touch William like he was touching me as his hands dropped from my arms to slide across my back. His mouth on mine was startlingly hot; his lips a paradox of hard and soft. And he tasted of the pad-Thai noodles we'd shared for dinner. He arched over me and I tilted towards him, muscles quivering, as his mouth moved on mine. I was spellbound. I'd never known it was like this. Like speaking without words.

My heart thundered in my throat, my skin crawled, hot and prickly. When I felt his hand cradle the back of my neck, his fingers threading through my hair, I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to touch him. I slid my hands out of my pocket and cautiously reached for him, pressing my forearms to his hips, wrists angled away.

William made a noise and I drew back, worried I'd done something wrong, but he pressed me closer and his mouth became somehow hotter and hungrier. My lips parted under the sudden fierceness of his. Any moment I was going to wake from this to find it a dream. Any moment he'd break off this kiss as he realised what he was doing and who he was doing it to. Any moment.

But that moment didn't come. As William's hands moved restlessly over my hair, my shoulders, my back, as we kissed in an instinctive, delicious dance I'd never imagined even in my wildest dreams, a twinned throbbing ache started low in my belly and deep in the joints of my fingers. I tensed my thighs, disturbed by an answering quiver in my stomach and tried to ignore the increasing clamour in my knuckles. But that was a call too well known to refuse.

As my attention was drawn away from the amazement of kissing William, I realised I had forgotten my habitual precautions about my hands. It was no wonder they were screaming for my attention; at some point I'd relaxed my wrists and my hands were pressed against William's back. Against solid, warm muscle.

Reluctantly I curled my hands back into loose fists and as if he sensed my distraction, William's mouth lifted from mine. I opened my eyes and blinked, a wave of cold blanketing me. Panic charged in where only a split second ago astonished delight had ruled. I was afraid of what would happen next. I didn't know what to expect. I didn't know what to say or do, or even where to look. I was shaking so hard I was afraid he'd hear my teeth chattering together like the rapid-fire clatter of horseshoes on concrete.

“I've wanted to do that for so long.”