➸featured on the What's Hot list
➸winner of The Most Addictive Story in The Writers Awards 2017
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❝ i'm going to woo you;
piece by piece,
word by word,
letter by letter. ❞
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In which Nova Hart, a star badminton player and hopeless roma...
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STAY, STAY, STAY
There was a moment of silence — the tiniest of an eternity — before Graham's voice filled the air between them.
"Why all the questions, Nova?" He asked and something in the way he spoke tugged at her heartstrings. As if it was a plea for her to tell him exactly what he wanted to hear. Nothing more, nothing less.
"Just curious, Graham," she murmured.
"I'm not complaining," he backtracked, "its nice to be seen, even if its taken quite a few years to get to this point."
Nova frowned. "What are you talking about? When have you ever been unseen? You've always had the eyes of every student on you."
"Not your eyes, though," he said, his words like darts that shot right through her chest and into her beating heart.
Butterflies. She felt butterflies in her stomach. Not butterflies that the anonymous notes or the emails would create. No, these butterflies seemed to wear hobnailed boots.
Maybe they weren't even butterflies. It rather felt like dragons.
"So tell me about your John Doe," he suddenly said, smiling, but Nova noticed it didn't reach his eyes.
It was like he'd dumped a bucketful of iced water over her, bringing her harshly back to reality.
Nova swallowed, her throat feeling too tight all of a sudden. "I'll be meeting him at the spring dance," she said, trying for a smile of her own but decided it wasn't worth the effort it was taking.
Didn't she want to meet the boy who thought Nova was his world?
"That's... Wow, that's just five days away..." He chuckled hesitantly, as if the realisation was only then dawning over him. His eyes stayed glued to his feet when he spoke again. "You must be pretty excited, huh?"
Nova nodded, still unable to speak. Why? She didn't know.
"Yeah," she finally found her voice. "It'd be great to finally put a face to the guy behind the notes and the emails. A name, too."
Graham nodded, his head still bent low as he traced invisible patterns on the tiled floor with his feet.
"I... I should go, Graham," Nova said, her head telling her to go home and sleep and forget this night and this moment but her heart screaming stay, stay, stay.
He pushed himself off the cupboard wordlessly and walked towards the door of the house, Nova following suit.
"Bye, Nova," he tried for a smile, reached out a hand towards her face, hesitated, and then dropped it.
"Bye, Graham," she offered him a small smile and stepped out into the night, her eyes automatically taking in her car parked in the driveway.
She was halfway down the steps of his front porch when she remembered something she'd wanted to ask him.
"Hey, Graham?"
Graham stuck his foot out, catching the door before it shut close and he came back into view, peering at Nova with curiosity.
"You'll be there too, right?" She asked, her heart beating wildly in the midst of a calm and tranquil night. "On Friday? Maybe I can save a dance for you."
He didn't smile — the way his lips lifted up into a sad, lopsided curve wasn't what Nova would call a smile.
But his eyes were soft. And warm. And the struggle so apparent in them pierced through Nova's mind and heart and soul with such ferocity she thought she was going to go up in flames.
And then, he gave her the slightest shake of his head. "No," he told her softly, his voice mixing with the gentle breeze. "I won't be at that dance, Nova."
And with another one of those rare, soft smiles in her direction, he shut the door.
