Chapter 13
A/N: i really hope you guys dont hate this chapter. Eeeep!
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It is freezing cold, but I refuse to wear Holly's jumper again because it was getting mildly obsessive, and because I don't want to send her any signals. Not when I'm not sure what signals I want to send yet. After our conversation the other afternoon I have managed to avoid spending any longer than five minutes in a room with her at a time. It hasn't been too hard, with work and school and her uni and study. Each time I see her though, even momentarily, her expression is super serious. Not just book nerd serious like that concentrating face she makes when reading her textbooks. It's a different kind of concentration, like she is deep in thought all the time, frowning to herself as she brushes her teeth and pondering while she cooks her eggs in the morning. And each time I see her, dark hair tumbling round her shoulders, t-shirts hanging in soft folds around her body, glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, dark eyes glancing over the thick frames of her glasses to watch me, seeking me out and giving me a small smile, my stomach flips. All at once I want to make her laugh, and I want to kiss her, and I want to run in the opposite direction before I do something stupid and screw everything up.
Today is the first day we both have nothing on all day. No way to avoid her when I know she will be around the house all day, with no classes and no library sessions needed. That's how I find myself trekking through the freezing cold, in a tshirt and my hole ridden hoodie, to an audio shop down on Carlaw Avenue, in an inch of snow, carrying a record player. Because this is obviously how you try not to show your feelings for a girl, by taking a tram and then a bus across town to get her dad's old record player fixed for her in the first snow of the year as a surprise. It'll take a couple of days, but they say it's easily fixable, and I am ecstatic about this the whole way home, but by the time I get there I am cold and sodden, snow having worked its way into my sneakers. I step through the door, and before I have even finished pulling my soggy shoes off I let out a loud sneeze that almost makes the house shake. Holly's head appears around the edge of the kitchen door, looking concerned as I kick the second damp shoe towards the shoe rack and miss by half a metre.
"Where have you been? And why are you still wearing that rag of a jumper?" she asks briskly, arms crossed, "Are you trying to get sick?" I roll my eyes, but before I can fire something back, I feel the sensation in my nose, another sneeze building, and I squeeze my eyes closed just in time. Achoo. I groan, my body jerking forward with the movement, and look up at her pathetically, standing in the hall in damp socks with my jumper slipping off one shoulder, and my hair tied back messily, strands pulling free of the plait to stick to the back of my neck. I feel horrible. I look horrible too, I am sure.
"Uh oh," I squeak meekly, unzipping my jumper and throwing it onto the back of the lounge. Cold air runs over my bare arms, and my skin bristles with goosebumps.
"Bed, now," Holly instructs, though her expression has softened. I give a small nod and begin to toddle up the staircase. Bed is definitely where I want to be, no convincing needed. When I get to my room I can barely be bothered getting changed, I undo my jeans and let them fall down around my ankles, kicking them off along with my damp socks as I crawl under the covers.
I am lying here, shivering under my doona, when Holly walks in, frowning, carrying a hot water bottle and a mug. The crease that forms between her eyebrows is completely adorable. She sets the cup down on my bedside table, and lifts the covers despite my protest to slip the hot water bottle in beside me. I press it firmly against my chest, and shiver at the heat radiating through my shirt as it hits my cold skin.
"You should know better Gail," she reprimands, but comes across sounding more worried than mad, as she passes me a hot cup of tea and watches me take a cautious first sip. It is warm enough to spread heat through my chest and stomach as it makes its way down, but not hot enough to burn my tongue. I humm contently as I swallow down a second, larger mouthful and then hand it back.
"Yes, but luckily my best friend slash housemate slash..." I trail off, crush was on the tip of my tongue, and clear my throat, "is a doctor in training." I finish, and grin up at her. She gives me a disapproving shake of the head, but can't help but smile back, her cheeks dimpling.
"Well I am sure you know what my course of treatment is going to be then, and no arguments. Now, are we continuing our Doctor Who marathon for your bedrest, or were you open to starting Buffy?" she asks, leaning down and sweeping a wave of blonde hair away from my face. I raise one eyebrow at her, trying to ignore the soft tingle left by her touch.
"Hol, you have a mountain of study to do," I begin to protest, but she only rolls her eyes at me and takes a seat on the edge of my bed. She places her hand on the other side of me to support her weight as she leans over, and I can feel the heat of her body against my stomach.
"What could be a better prac than tending to a real life sick patient?"
"Is your next exam on the common cold?" I quip, but she blows me off, handing me back the mug as she gets to her feet again.
"Shut up and drink your tea. I'll get the laptop."
…
Day two of bed rest. I am curled under the covers, sniffling miserably, when my mobile goes off. Groaning, I watch it vibrating loudly on my bedside table, moving closer towards the edge as my mother's contact flashes up on the screen. Literally the last thing I need is her 'motherly' advice. Pecks don't get sick, we sneeze once and then our superior immune systems eradicate all disease. I think she has taken two sick days off, once when she had Steve and once when she had me. I am staring at the phone, now precariously balanced at the edge of the table, when Holly peeks in to check on me. I offer her a meek smile, sweeping back a lock of blonde hair from my damp forehead.
"I brought you some-"
"Coffee?" I interject hopefully. She narrows her eyes at me and shakes her head, walking in carrying a mug. Today she is wearing a thin singlet, white cotton sitting tight across her skin, before bunching at the hem of her trackpants. How does anyone look sexy in trackpants? Somehow they highlight the sloping contour of her hip bones. I bite my lip and refocus my attention on her face, scrunched up in an adorably unapproving look.
"What did I tell you about coffee when you're sick? It's lemon tea with a dash of honey." She sets it down on my bedside table, china clinking against the wood, and peers at my phone, the screen still lit up.
"One missed call, one new voicemail message, mum," she reads out loud, picking it up as she takes a seat softly on the edge of the bed, "Should you check what it is?" I groan, pressing my palms to my eyes.
"I'm sure nothing important," I begin, before I see Holly's expression and relent with a sigh, "But, sure, just in case." She beams at me, and it's almost worth it, until I hear my mother's clipped tone over loudspeaker.
"Gail, it's your mother. I haven't heard from you in a week and I need to know if you're coming to thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. Wear something nice, dear."
I groan somewhat louder than before and let my body sink further into the mattress and the covers, the fabric and downing rising around me. Holly gives me a small smile as she places the phone back down, pushing the duvet back down past my chin.
"Well you obviously can't go, you're sick."
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"Are you really going?" Holly asks as she lies on the end of my bed, feet resting against the wall and her hair cascading down over the side, almost touching the floor. I am standing in front of my wardrobe, grimacing at the options.
"Have you met my mother?" I turn to see her give a small nod, smirking at me from upside down as I place my hands on my hips dramatically.
"Well there you go. Imagine her face if I didn't come to dinner on Thanksgiving," I cringe just imagining it myself, and turn back to the possible clothing choices for tonight. There is a very small section of my wardrobe which is mum certified, stuff she bought for me that probably still have tags and make me groan at the thought of wearing them. The rest is my clothes, things I would no doubt feel comfortable in, and that my mother would nitpick and complain over all night long. Tempting, but painful in the long run. I really want to get through this thing as painlessly as possible. I stifle a sniffle, and reach for the box of tissues on my desk.
"Oh come on Gail, you're still sick, you can't go!" Holly exclaims from behind me. I look back to find she has turned over onto her stomach, looking up at me sternly over the black plastic of her glasses frames. I can see directly down the front of her shirt from this position, but that is totally beside the point Gail, concentrate. I ignore her comment, and pull out a hideous top my mother bought me last year.
"I don't think I can put your Med jumper over this," I mutter sullenly, holding it up in front of my t-shirt. Holly grins up at me from the bed, sitting back up and flipping hair over her shoulder as she moves to the edge of the bed.
"Hold that thought." She jumps up and exits the room. I can hear her footsteps dashing up the stairs, and moments later clunking back down again. When she burst back in she is holding up a large, thick brown coat beaming at me triumphantly. I eye it unenthusiastically.
"Is that tweed?" She rolls her eyes at me, and thrusts the jacket onto my bed.
"Stop complaining about my fashion sense and get dressed. I'll meet you in the hall in five, you're already late, if you insist on still going."
When I come downstairs minutes later, feeling odd dressed in a hideous shirt my mother bought and Holly's sensible jacket, she is waiting by the couch with a beanie and scarf, and a pair of sturdy brown, lesbian looking boots at her feet.
"I am going to look like a nerdy, sensibly dressed lesbian," I exclaim, mildly amused at the thought of my mother's face at my entrance. Holly raises her eyebrows at me and wiggles them over her glasses in a suggestive way. Suggestive of what, I'm not sure, but I feel my cheeks flush at whatever the insinuation is.
"You mean, you'll look like me?" She asks, teasing, and indicates towards the shoes, "Stop complaining and start dressing, your brother will be here soon." As I step into the hefty, oversized boots, she pulls the beanie down over my head, smirking to herself in amusement as she tugs it over my ears. She wraps the scarf carefully around, draping it over my shoulders and loosely around my neck so I am snug and warm, the woolen knit insulating my body and tickling against my skin. When she finishes she brushes back a strand of hair from my face, and her cool fingers brush against my cheek. They trail back over my cheekbone and she gently taps the tip of my nose, smiling softly.
"You look like rudolf," she whispers, dropping her hand down, and grazing the skin of my bottom lip as she does so. I feel myself swallow before I can think about it, and I hope it isn't written all over my face, that the touch sends a shiver down my spine. I can feel it even though it's long gone, her touch, lingering cool against my mouth, ghosting in my memory like the cerebral shadow of the long passed action. I can't not think about it. I try to steady my breathing, letting out a long breath. When I look up Holly is looking back at me, unmoving, still close within my sphere, and she holds my gaze, the rich brown of her eyes flecked with warm, golden tones.
"I do strongly identify with rudolf, you know, as a character," I finally whisper back, and Holly's semi-serious expression cracks into a smile, cheeks pulling up and dimpling as she grins, and her teeth pull over her bottom lip.
"You're such an idiot." No-one has ever said this to me in such a tone of adoration, and suddenly her hand, still hovering at the bottom of my scarf, is gripping the loose knit material and using it to pull me forward. Her smile presses against my mouth, and I kiss back impulsively, unthinkingly, pushing my lips against hers gently, capturing her bottom lip in my mouth. Her smile falls away as I pull back, a heavy breath escaping her lips, and she leans in again. She is still holding me close, not that she needs to as I find my body drawn in towards her, my hands finding the waistband of her jeans and using it to pull her hips against mine where we are standing in the front hall, till her weight against me causes me to stumble back against the wall, pulling her with me, heavy boots clunking under my feet in the quiet of the house as we do so. Her lips are soft against mine, her tongue gliding over my bottom lip, causing my mouth to part open. This time when she pulls away her eyes are darker, and unreadable, as she leans into me, pinning me in place, one hand still grasping the scarf around my neck and the other tangled in my hair. I wish this ridiculously thick coat wasn't in between us. She bites her lip, pausing and watching me quietly, cautiously. I am torn between running my fingers through her hair, and pulling her back into another, deeper kiss, when I feel my nose tickle.
"Oh shit," I squeak suddenly, raising my hand quickly to cover my mouth, and Holly stumbles back, blinking, cheeks bright red and mouth curled nervously. Her dark eyes looked worried behind her glasses as she rakes a hand through her dark hair. A small sneeze escapes me, into the palm of my hand. Which, ew, gross. And mortifyingly embarrassing part way through making out with a girl you have a huge crush on.
"Oh crap, I hope I didn't give it to you," I mumble, sagging into the wall, as though the further away from her I get somehow the less likely she is to catch my cold. Even though I literally just pressed my infected mouth against hers. Twice. I cringe and glance across to find Holly giving me a small smile.
"What?" I ask self consciously, reaching up to readjust my beanie where it was sliding off my head with my clean hand.
"I thought you were um, going to say something else," she replies softly, cheeks tinted pink still. I know what she must have thought I meant, like, oh shit I didn't mean that. Oh shit I just kissed a girl. Oh shit that was a terrible accident. It was definitely none of those things. My lips are still tingling where she kissed them, the back of my neck burning where her fingers tangled in my hair, my heartbeat still rushing on the adrenalin of her body pushing against mine. I let out a heavy breath, and give her a small, somewhat shy smile back.
"So, that just happened." She giggles, using the back of her hand to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. I want to say so much more than that, but I don't even know where to start, and any minute now- A loud honk makes us both jump. I glance out the window, and sure enough bloody Steve's old junk of a car is parked on the curb, headlights on and engine running, waiting for me. I glance back towards her, biting my lip as she walks over again. Holly is giving me that small, unreadable smile that she does every so often as she reaches up and readjusts my scarf for me.
"There, all set," she breathes out softly, just as the car honks again outside, and she lets me move out of the comfortable warmth of her closeness towards the door. My stomach is churning, heart fluttering, as I grip the handle and pull it open. Cold night air floods in over my face.
"Wait, did you bring tissues?" she suddenly calls out in concern from behind me, and I look back to find her rifling through her purse to pull out a small, plastic packet. Could this girl be any dorkier. She grins and blushes as she presses them into my hand, and then pushes me out the door, her hands lingering on my back for a second before pulling back as she hovers in the doorway and watches me go down the steps in the dim evening.
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