Broken Strings

Could I?

Last night was tough. After the pool I managed to reach our room to find Peter laying with his head at the foot of the bed and snuggled in a doona. It killed me to know that I had upset him. But how and why?

“Amelia?” the sound of his voice shook me from my semi-conscious state. “Can I talk to you?” Oh no.

“Look before you start,” I sat up almost too quickly, my head spinning. “Before you start,” I began again, “I want to say sorry. Whatever it is I have said or done I am sorry.”

“No ‘Lee, you haven’t done anything wrong,” he said sitting on the bed across from me. I rubbed my eyes and yawned before taking in his state. He wore nothing but a pair of grey track pants and his auburn hair was messy atop his head.

“I haven’t?”

“No ‘Lee. I just wasn’t myself last night. I’m sorry for walking off.”

“Peter just tell me one thing, you aren’t having second thoughts are you?”

“No, course not.”

“Good, okay so breakfast?” Peter raised from the bed and raced me for the shower.

“You can go first if you’d like?”

“It’s okay, you go. I should keep up to date with some writing anyway.”

“Alright then,” Peter smirked. He pulled a few clothes from his backpack and closed the bathroom door behind him. I strode to the window where my backpack sat. I ransacked through it until I found my diary. Now all I needed was a pencil. Peter. I contemplated looking through his bag to find a pencil and decided it would probably go against the friend law but he said he trusted me, right? What was I going to find? I zipped it open and found a pencil sticking out of his diary. I pulled at it and the diary fell to the floor, the pages flicking open. Being the nosey person I am I found it hard to close it without peeking just a little? “Amelia. She’s so down to earth. She’s funny, smart and I think I’m falling for her. This crush is surely crushing me.” In a bolt of confusion I slam the diary shut and press it down, deep into Peter’s bag. Crap. He’s crushing on me? Why me?

“Everything okay?” I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed my head in my hands. I wasn’t angry nor was I upset. I was confused, flattered and slightly excited. Nothing like this has ever passed through my mind. The thought of someone thinking about me before they fall asleep, the thought of someone actually thinking of me as funny or smart. That sort of stuff just didn’t happen to people like me. “’Lee?”

“Pardon?

“Is everything okay?”

“Fine, why?”

“Just asking,” he chuckles. My heart races slightly as he steps past me, his musky scent engraving a place in my mind. “You can have the shower now.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, jumping form the bed and closing the door behind me.

“’Lee?” Peter mumbles from the other side of the door.

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he chuckles.

“Fine, I won’t be long,” I reply. I tear the hair elastic form my hair and sit it on the basin.

“I’ll believe that when I see it?” he laughs. My parents always had a problem with the time length of my showers and Peter doesn’t have a problem per say, but finds it a characteristic.

“Sure, sure!” I laugh back. I stripped off my clothes and turned the water on. The steam fogged the mirror whilst the fan inbuilt into the roof tries hard to suck it up. I let the water run over my head and down my back until it runs down my legs and settles at my feet. I soap my hair and body before rinsing and shaving my legs, something I haven’t done for too long. I turn off the water and towel dry my body before throwing on a pair of pale blue cotton shorts and a plain white singlet. I brush out my hair and spray my underarms with deodorant.