How I See You

Chapter 8 - Alyssa now.

Alyssa now.

Will has become one of those people I see every day now. He calls at my door every day, either talking to me or asking me to go on a bike ride or walk with him.

Also at school he now smiles and says hi. I just wave, and I see Avril narrowing her eyes, her girlfriends frowning, but I just ignore them and pretend they don’t exist.

My parents question me though.

“Who is he?”
“What’s his name?”

“Where are you going now?”

“What is he like?”
We hang out with Katy and Niall at the weekends, playing cards or truth or dare or watching films. My social life has definitely picked up, I’m now not bothered if Zara doesn’t text me or Myra doesn’t call me or whatever.

It’s a week after I had the weird conversation with him at the lake. I’m still trying to work out where I got the courage from to say that to him. I’m also still in shock that I didn’t get a mouthful of abuse or something.

We’re walking around the block, and the sun is bright in the sky. Summer is on its way, which is making me happier by the minute.

Will speaks first. “So how are my greeting tactics at school? Satisfying?”

How does that make me blush so easily? It’s just a question, Alyssa! “Yeah,” I say. “You’re not Mr. Antisocial anymore.”
I look up at him and see my own face reflected in his aviators.

A broad grin spreads across his face. “I’m glad I’m improving. I’m glad I found you again too. It’s almost like the old days.”
I nod silently. Almost. We still don’t go hyper without worrying what my parents will say or jump on each other or have water fights or laugh like we used to. And back then I didn’t have a crush on my best friend.

“I found some pictures of when we were younger last night,” Will says suddenly. “It was so weird. We looked so different.”
I smile. “When were they taken?”
“We were about ten or eleven,” he tells me, looking at me. “And . . . It’s at the park – me, you, Tai and Myra are there, and our parents.”

Whoa.

“I’ve got some from sports day,” I laugh. “And me and Tai are soaking wet because we had some sort of water fight.”

He grins. “Huh. Weird. Part of me wants to go back to then. It was great; I mean . . . there was nothing to worry about. We were so different back then.”
I nod, thinking exactly the same thing.

“So what do you do these days?” Will asks me.

I shrug. “I dunno. My social life hasn’t been great recently. I basically read, play music, write songs. I go shopping too . . . I dunno what else.”
“You write songs? Cool.” Will pauses. “What do you play?”
I sigh. “Piano and guitar.”

I know he plays the guitar.

Knowing he won’t admit to it without invitation, I add, “What about you?”

He looks at me. “What about me?”
“What do you play?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Uh . . . guitar and drums.”

“Why is that so hard for you to admit?” I ask him.

He looks shocked. “It isn’t.”
“It is.”

He laughs. “It isn’t. I’m not ashamed or anything.”

I purse my lips.

Should I tell him that I saw him? In his garden. Playing the guitar.

We walk in silence for a few minutes.