Shy

Clara

I listen to Kit's story and if I weren't so confused, I'd be delighted at the fact that he's opening up to me. I'm learning more about Kit right now than in the months that I've been obsessively thinking about him.

In Kit's mind, he's never been good enough for me. He shied away from me, at first, because he didn't know how to react, but last year he was actively trying to push himself to get to know me, even though it constantly seemed to cause him discomfort and anxiety.

I feel very confused and when he stands up, I want to stop him, to follow him, to reassure him that he's more than enough for me but right now I need to think. I let him go, watching his retreating figure as I mull over everything he's just said.

I twiddle with my fingers, not quite believing that the guy I find interesting, handsome, intriguing and kind is just as into me as I am into him.

I smile, not finding an inch of anger anywhere in me. He wasn't obliged to tell me that we were soulmates, and although he never sought me out, he never ran away. He's thought of me for years and perhaps unfairly, has put me on a pedestal as someone he will never be worthy of.

I'm by no means perfect and in time he'll get to know that.

I think of the night of his birthday, the winter formal, the times where he had spoken to me, even though he must have been nervous as hell. Nothing has been a game, he's tried to get to know me without the looming pressure of being soulmates.

I stand up smiling, feeling a strange weight ease from my shoulders. I wander back to the main school building with a pep in my step and go to try and find Kit.

He's nowhere to be seen and as school ends I feel a bit deflated. I spot Kia by her locker and skip over to her, knowing that she'll know where her brother is.

"Hey Kia!" I chirp and she smiles weakly at me.

"Hey, Clara" She says, closing her locker gently.

"What's up?" I ask frowning.

"Oh, it's nothing, what can I do for you?" She says and I fidget for a moment.

"Do you know where Kit is?" I ask, my eyes still scanning the halls.

"He went home." Kia says and I glance at her.

"Oh, can I walk back with you then? I need to see him." I plead. Kia hesitates.

"I think...that he needs some time. It's absolutely fine if you don't want to be with him, that's your choice but give him some time to get to grips with it." She says firmly and I can tell that she's upset with me.

"I never...I never said I didn't want him." I insist and Kia sighs.

"Did you say that you did?" She asks and I pause.

I didn't think that I had to but looking back, I guess my silence could have been taken in two ways.

"I definitely need to speak to him." I say firmly and Kia nods dubiously.

"Come on then." She says and I tag along with her.

I was afraid the walk would be filled with an awkward, tense silence but Kia drops the subject of her brother's heartache and we talk about school, dance and I quiz her about Michael.

The latter subject causes her to blush and stutter and I giggle at her reactions.

She opens the door to her house and we step inside. The soft and sultry voice of Frank Sinatra hits us almost immediately from the stereo in the living room. I had no idea that Kit liked jazz music. I glance over at Kia and my smile falters when I see her frown. She looks deeply concerned and moves into the kitchen where the radio is blasting classic rock.

I look at the radio in bewilderment and follow Kia up the stairs. She hesitates outside the door to Kit's room, the sound of achingly sad classical music floating towards us. Kia steps back and bites her lip.

"He hasn't done this in years. It's like he goes into total meltdown and his head is so busy that he can't be in silence." Kia mumbles and I nod slowly.

I step forwards and knock lightly. I knock again harder but it doesn't seem to be heard. I glance at Kia and she nods, jogging downstairs to turn off the racket.

I take a breath and turn the door handle, quietly making my way into the room for the first time. My eyes slide to Kit, his back hunched over his piano as he plays almost subconsciously.

"Kit?"

He stops playing abruptly but doesn't move from his stance at the piano.

"Kit?" I say again, watching him straighten up. He stands up and turns to face me.

His expression is tortured and I can tell that right now, I'm the last person he wants to see. I kick myself internally for ever making him feel this way, for making him feel like I don't want him. It seems to me that there isn't a soul that doesn't want to know him.

I open my mouth to speak, to say something, anything. Nothing comes out but silence and I fidget on the spot, wishing I had the words to express what an idiot I am. My mind takes me back to every moment with him, every moment I've felt so treasured and special. The tingles I felt when he'd take my hand, the completeness I felt every time I went on stage, the flowers...

"It's you," I whisper hopelessly, "It's always been you."

His eyes are quiet and searching, such a rich chocolate brown that leave me breathless and I decide to be bold. I take a few steps forwards, eliminating the space between us. I look up, place my hand behind his neck, get up on my tiptoes and kiss him.