"I can't believe you have a date tomorrow!" Carys gushed on the bus back to mine. She had brought all her belongings to school, ready for a fun night of sleepovers tonight. Though, because I had to wait for her, we were unfortunately up the back of the bus.
"I know, right? It's like the universe is looking out for me. Maybe I'll get my first kiss?" A smile was working its way onto my face, but I was trying to be as quiet as possible. I was happy for Carys knowing how over the moon I was, but... I didn't want word to spread whereby Caleb might find out how eager I was.
"Maybe!" she gushed. "So he is picking you up?"
"He and his mum, of course."
"Ah. Do you think he will hold your hand?" she asked a little too loudly.
I was quick to hold a finger to my mouth.
But she merely nodded her head towards the seat behind us. One glance in the direction she indicated, and I realised who had taken up residence there... and I hadn't even noticed.
"I hope he does," I said to her. "Or does one of those super cheesy fake yawns to put his arm around me."
"You will have to tell me all the details when you get home. Who knows, maybe you will even have a boyfriend come Monday. Someone who will sit with you at school and be proud to say you're his." She was throwing deep digs here. And, as fun as it was to rub in that I moved on, a part of me was sighing in despair.
Because what was the point of doing all this?
It's not like he cared.
It was hard to miss, when I had glanced back, the beauty who was beside him. His girlfriend. The girl who he had chosen after getting my hopes up by telling me she wouldn't get in the way...
He made his choice... And I was not worth it in the end.
So what was the point in trying to make him jealous? I just had to focus on me and my heart now.
•❃°•°❀°•°❃•
"Are you sure you can't come with me?" I begged Carys as she dusted my face with makeup. She was crouching down over me as I sat on my bed, trying to keep as still as possible to not mess up her handiwork.
The sun had already made its way to the other side of the sky, and the deadline of her mum picking her up was looming. Which meant the knot in my stomach was intensifying as the minutes ticked closer.
We had been through this conversation before—many times last night in fact. But the nerves weren't as overbearing as she had helped me select an outfit and coached me in the basics of conversation. Nor did I feel the dread that I'd catch foot-in-mouth disease again as we watched a couple of RomComs in the late hours of the evening yesterday.
"That, my dear, would make it no longer a date, but an outing with friends. Or I'd be a third-wheel, which I'm definitely not doing. Even though I love you and all," she said as she swept some sticky substance—I assumed mascara—over my lashes, causing my eyes to sting and water.
"But I don't even know this guy! Like, what do we talk about?"
"Amazing how dates help you get to know a person."
"What if he's a murderer?"
"You're teens, Indi. And his mum is picking you up and dropping you off. Plus, based on our social media stalking this morning, you know he's a Star Wars geek who really doesn't get out much."
"And isn't that a sign of a murderer? Antisocial behaviour?"
Her movements paused as she had brought the makeup brush to my face to dust some other powder on me. Deadpan expression, she flatly said, "Do I need to bring the mirror?"
Brows knotting together, I responded with, "What? Why?"
"So that you can judge yourself before you judge him."
Pouting, I bit back the retort that pleaded to be spoken, knowing she was right. I was just trying to find excuses to escape this. Partly because I was nervous about spending the evening with someone I didn't know. Partly because I was scared where the night might lead romantically considering I'd never been on a date before. But largely because... what if tonight worked and I did move on? Or, worse... what if I couldn't? What if no one would shine as bright as—
"Stop thinking about Harley," Carys cut off my thought.
"I wasn't—"
"Don't even deny it. It was clear as day on your face, girl."
"How was—"
"Your eyes went all glossy and you had this look of forlorn."
"Forlorn?"
"Yes. Forlorn."
"What are you a 19th century writer now?"
"I know you're trying to change the topic, Indi. It won't work."
With a groan, I fell back on the bed, out of her grips, eyes now searching the ceiling. "I'm equal parts excited and terrified, Rys."
"I know," she breathed, the bed wobbling as she sat next to me. Though it wasn't long before the brush dusted over my face again.
"Surely it's wrong going on a date with him when my heart lies elsewhere?"
She sighed, and the brush stopped moving. Though when silence ensued and the scolding I expected didn't begin, I opened my eyes.
Carys's grey orbs were studying me.
"It's just a date," she then said, an odd tone caressing her words.
"What does that—"
"You haven't committed to a relationship. You haven't said you like him. You're just agreeing to give him a chance, and you are. So I don't see a problem with it." It seemed even Carys had let my worry stew about in her as she spoke her words like she was also assuring herself. "Just don't lead him on tonight if you're not feeling it. If you really can't get over Harley and feel like Caleb isn't the right fit... build that friend wall instead, okay?"
"How?"
"If he reaches to grab your hand, move it away. If he offers a jumper, reject. If he leans in to kiss you—"
"I get it," I mumbled.
"Harley isn't with you tonight so whatever you do with Caleb isn't about making Harley jealous. While it might help you move on, it might also not, and then you've just hurt the poor guy. You shouldn't give him hope if there is none. That could... backfire."
But as a car honked outside and we both glanced through the window to see Carys's mum had arrived, the knot that returned in my stomach wiped away my best friend's warnings, forcing me to care more about the fact I was going on my first date and not what this was all about.
•❃°•°❀°•°❃•
While the aircon up front was blazing, the back-seat felt overly warm with the disconcerting atmosphere expanding the size of the vehicle in waves of loud silence.
When they picked me up, Caleb had somehow deduced that sitting in the back with me would make the 20 minute car ride from my house to the cinema less awkward. Though, with his mum now acting as an evident chauffeur, eyes flickering into the rearview mirror as she made stunted small-talk with her son, I concluded that this experience would have been much more tolerable had he sat in the passenger seat. That way, I could shrink into the bench in the back without anyone noticing. That way they could make conversation while I pretended I was barely there.
But with the empty seat beside her and evident tension she was feeling, her mouth broke the silence with misplaced conversation.
"When does the movie end?" she asked at first, a fair-enough conversation topic.
"I told you, mum. At 8pm. But we might hang out a bit after, so pick us up at about ten-ish."
Then she moved on to, "What do you plan to do once you finish school, Indigo?"
"Er... not quite sure yet," I gave her.
Then Caleb and I shared a glance, his head cocking to the side in curiousity. Because not even we had gotten to the point of asking each other that yet. I mean, I barely knew the first thing about him except that he liked Star Wars and was in English Lit.
The question bubbled in my mouth, daring to be asked, but as his mum cleared her throat, I decided to keep my mouth shut. What would she think about me if she knew we didn't really know each other? Would she take me back home? Would Caleb regret his decision to ask me out?
Distracting me from that thought spiral was the inevitable statement that always pops up. "Your sunnies have a really interesting tint to them, Indigo. They look red."
"Um, yeah," I mumbled, turning my gaze out the window in the hopes she'd stop this conversation path here.
Though, unfortunately, she went on. "Is it a special coating? A tint, perhaps? I just had to order my own prescription ones and I was overwhelmed by all the choices. You can get some sepia ones, but I haven't seen red ones."
"It's a type of prescription," I gave her back, really hoping now she'd let it go.
But then Caleb said, "Wait... is that why you wear red contacts too?"
For crying out loud... are we really doing this?
My head whipped around to Caleb, giving him a pleading look of, Please not now, which he saw.
Yet, before he could change the topic, his mum interjected with, "You wear red contacts? Prescription?"
"Mhmm."
"Why? What do red contacts do?"
"They... um... colour-correct. Reduce glare..."
"Colour-correct? Are you colour-blind?"
"Mhmm."
Caleb had gone still beside me. And, reluctantly, I shot him a glance before his mum's next awkward question came my way.
"What colours can't you see?" she asked from the front seat.
The smile had dropped from his face as realisation dawned on him as to why I was sensitive about the contact topic in class that day.
Realising there was no way to dodge this conversation anymore, I caved. "All of them. I have a condition called Achromatopsia..." For what felt like the millionth time, though was actually the third, I explained the rods and cones, the photophobia, the slight case of nystagmus I get when not wearing them. I unloaded all the information I knew she'd be seeking and unwillingly answered her questions. "No, it's not degenerative... No, it's not contagious. Yes it's hereditary, but the gene has to be in both parents..."
Until she hit me with the ignorant, "That's so interesting! You don't even look like you'd have a disability. You know, they have glasses these days for colour-blindness. Maybe you could try them to see colour?"
"They only work for people who can see some colour," I muttered. "I have complete colour-blindness, so... I will never see colour." Though the words left a bitter taste in my mouth as I knew it wasn't the full truth.
Adding to it, my stomach knotted once more as I remembered tonight was centred around getting rid of the one thing that had brought colour to my life.
Do I really want to let that chance go? I couldn't help but wonder as Caleb's mum continued to prattle about medical procedures and miracles she'd read online or heard through the rumour mill.
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