Forever Could Be Ours

Chapter 10. | Burrowed Fabric

HAYLEIGH

"Hay, you are full of bad excuses," Matty mumbles, his eyes focused on the group of students prepared by the starting line of the red and white running tracks.

"I don't understand what you mean by excuses," I lift my sunglasses to look at him. "Forgetting your gym clothes is a valid reason to skip the cooper test."

Today's Phys. Ed. class is an interdisciplinary project with math. Perform the test and afterward calculate some equations that did not make sense in my head during the briefing.

I couldn't have predicted a better day to forget my gym clothes.

I might swift like a gazelle when I'm trying to catch the morning bus or the last metro, but I despise all kinds of sports involving running.

Matty, on the other hand, suffers from asthma and is permitted when necessary.

He may quote me as being full of bad excuses, but he never misses a swim practice despite his condition. I suspect he's skipping the test because he can, without consequences.

I get him. In his shoes, I would do the same.

Positioned on the inner circle of the running tracks, we watch Coach Reese preparing for the next test by the starter line. Alexander stands next to her with a stopwatch in his large hand, sunglasses resting neatly in his messy brown hair.

It feels like a reward, finally getting some sunlight after days of heavy clouds and rain. The weather in Sydney is just as unpredictable and irregular as my period.

It's been a week.

One full week, seven exact days since my back was pressed against the rough corkboard, nearly knocking down every pinned paper in the process.

The kiss had been so intense, so needed, I still felt his lips linger on mine when I woke up the morning after, deeply trying to convince myself that what I thought to be a dream, indeed happened.

I felt like an actress putting on her best game face the second I stepped into the classroom after the weekend passed. One silent glancy exchange behind his desk made me realize it was an unstated agreement we wouldn't talk about the kiss to anyone - or each other.

I certainly know right from wrong, and the consequences surface right beneath my conscience. But every time my timid gaze meets Alexander's crystal blue eyes, I'm gone with the wind and wrong suddenly feels wonderfully right.

"Because you did forget your gym clothes," Matty adds pressure to the did, gaze sending a look of disbelief.

"Don't give me that look," I warn. "It was either that or missing the bus. The bag is on my kitchen counter where I left it." I'm telling the truth, yet my broad smile gives the impression of deceit.

He hums, still not convinced. "You know you could just run in the clothes you're wearing?"

"There's no way I'm running without a sports bra."

"Is that a valid argument?"

"As long as you're flat-chested, you don't get to have an opinion," I poke my finger into his chest, shaking it.

Nobody with a C cup, or bigger, enjoys running without support. It feels like my chest hits my chin every step of the run. Nobody wants to see me run around with my boobs in my hands like two cantaloupes on sale at a fruit market.

"I respect that," Matty closes his book when a whistle wheezes in the background, indicating the last group has finished the test.

For the last minutes, Alexander has been sitting with his clipboard writing down results with Brittany by his side.