My hands were slippery in some places, and cracking from the dry clay in others, as I tried to mould my clump into a cat. 

I was becoming even more conscious, confined in his garage behind the closed door, of his gaze that continued to glance my way. His eyes flickering momentarily from his clay pile to my face then back to his clay once more. As though I wouldn’t notice. Or maybe hoping I would notice. Or hoping I’d be looking back at him. 

As I tried to shape the clay into ears, I began to ponder the phrase ‘stole a glance’. With Evie, I never had to steal a glance at her, because she was always in front of me, there to look at. 

This awkward period of not knowing how you feel about someone or trying to figure out if they liked you back—not that I liked Rowan—was foreign to me.

When he stole his glances, what was he looking for? Whether I was enjoying myself? Did he forget how I was wearing my hair in that moment? Did he miss looking at me? Or perhaps was he checking to see if the girl from his fantasies was actually sitting next to him in his garage?

Questions I never would dare to ask, I couldn’t help but smile them into existence in my mind. 

But as I realised the corners of my mouth were physically turned upwards, and that my heart was aching, and my cheeks were flushed, I stopped trying to shape the clay and tried to distract my thoughts. “I can’t get this,” I complained.

It was permission this time to look my way, which he seemed to relish in. Hands invading my space, he had set down his piece of clay and wrapped his fingers around the one in mine. Finger gently brushing against mine in the process, he pressed and pushed into the clay until it did what I had been trying to get it to do. “You’ve got to use your pinky for that part and index finger for that one,” he said, face a little too close for my liking.

As my throat tightened and he continued to show me with the other ear, I immediately dropped the clay from my grip, moving my hands out from under his.

Cautious eyes meeting mine, he cocked his head to the side.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, looking back at the clay he had finally moved his hands from. Why was I suddenly feeling shy? It’s just Rowan, I thought to myself, picking up the lump and continuing to fiddle with it. But after some moments, I realised he hadn’t resumed with his.

Braving a glance upwards, his green eyes were studying me, the corners of his lips slightly turned upwards.

“What?” I asked.

Shaking his head, he finally dropped his gaze and turned back to his clay. “Nothing,” he mumbled.

But I knew he was pleased. He had seen my moment of weakness… of awkwardness. And he was assuming it meant… “I just don’t want any scenes from Ghost occuring in here,” I said, filling the uncomfortable silence and trying to stop whatever feelings he was convincing himself I was now having.

“I don’t get it,” he said, continuing to focus on his clay.

“You know… the movie. Ghost? The clay scene?”

Brows furrowed, he glanced at me then shook his head. “Nope. Haven’t seen it.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Is it a horror?”

Lips pressing together, I decided the best response was none.

“May?”

“No. It’s not a horror.”

“What genre?”

I went quiet again.

“Is that a hard question to answer?”

“It’s just not important. Drop it.”

He set his clay down, turning to me with narrowed eyes. “Why?”

“No reason. Just a silly offhand comment that has no reason making a deal out of it.”

He grabbed a wet towel, wiping his hands clean before fishing his phone out of his back pocket.

“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to glimpse whatever was on his screen that he was evidently hiding from me.

“Just looking up something.”

“Looking up what?”

To my horror, Unchained Melody began to play from his phone, causing me to drop my clay to the table. I reached for the wet towel, wiping my hands clean.

As a cheeky grin spread across his face, Rowan got off his chair, backing away from me as his eyes stayed glued to the screen. 

I got out of my chair, swiping for the phone. “Turn that off.”

“It’s definitely a romance movie…”

“Rowan! Turn it off.” I continued to reach for it as he continued to take steps backwards. Until we finally ran out of room. Back pressed against the wall, he brought the phone up above his head as I desperately tried to jump for it, not caring that my body pressed up against him in the process. Feeling a little electrified to have a reason to touch him again. His free hand came down on my shoulder, holding me back from being able to jump too high.

But he let the scene play out, eyes up at his phone above his head, until finally the music stopped. Until finally the sounds of Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore getting frisky finished mortifying me. Then he lowered his arm by his side, gaze on me, as I stood a few breaths away from him.

“That was… a very fascinating scene. I’m surprised it came to your mind, May.” There was no trace of humour on his face. In fact, it was a whole new emotion. And his focus, while on my face, was not on my eyes.

“I said I didn’t want that scene occurring.”

“Yet the scene still came to your mind because I touched your hand…” 

His green eyes finally flicked up to mine, away from my mouth. His hand slowly moved off my shoulder, trailing down my arm until it reached my hand. I let him lace his fingers through mine. His skin was so soft—hands large, yet delicate. Holding his hand was nice, comforting. 

“You said they’d go away… but they get stronger each day, May,” he whispered. I knew he was talking about his feelings. 

I tried to move my hand out of his. Tried to convince myself I didn’t like him. I was just desperate to forget Evie. But he gripped on. And my heart cheered in response.

Unable to brave his face anymore, I watched his Adam’s apple dip in his throat before he said, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“I um… I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Because you don’t like me?”

“Because I don’t know how I feel about you. And I wouldn’t want to ruin this friendship we’ve developed.”

His eyes mulled with morose and his grip began to weaken in mine, hand retreating. The fear that I was losing the one person still by my side intensified, and I reached out for him before he could put distance between us.

Hope returned to his face.

“You’re a really nice person, Rowan,” I started. “Hanging out with you is fun. Having someone to talk to about art is amazing. And you really seem to get me. But I worry it won’t be enough. That if I let us bridge that step and I still don’t feel anything… that I won’t just hurt you. But I’ll make things too awkward between us to be mended.”

His lips pressed together as he avoided my gaze.

“I can’t lose another person I’m close to,” I confessed.

“I’m not going anywhere, May,” he whispered. “Not now that I have you by my side.”

My heart swelled at his promise, even though I knew his words would eventually have an expiry date. But it was just the thing I needed to hear at that moment. And as my heart rate quickened, and as Evie’s absence slipped from my mind, and as the need for a human connection grew, I found myself whispering, “Okay.”

“Okay?” he asked, eyes meeting mine.

“Okay… you can kiss me. But only if you promise things won’t change between us if I don’t like it.”

A boyish grin graced his face for a moment before he caught himself, suppressing it as if not to seem too eager. “Of course. No matter what, I’ll be your friend first, May.”

Then his shaky hand came up and cupped my face, steadying itself against my cheek. The hand in mine slipped out, moving its way to my neck. For a split second, I looked at him while he stared at me like I was the epitome of his dreams. And before I could second-guess my decision or worry if kissing a boy was much different than a girl, his mouth was on mine.

Closed mouths at first, the pressure of his lips was perfect as they brushed over my bottom lip before coming back in again. Instinctively, I found my own mouth moving along with his. Our lips danced against each other like that for a while, until the hand he had on my cheek moved around to behind my head, fingers weaving through my hair.

Unable to help myself, I wound my arms around his neck, pulling him closer against me. As his tongue caressed my bottom lip, I parted my mouth to let him deepen the kiss.

It was nice. Rowan clearly had a lot of experience at this, the amount of tongue he gave and took varying at the right moments. The pressure increasing and decreasing at the perfect timing. The way his fingers knotted and released through my hair with the movements was calming. The pressing of his body against mine was warm. Kissing him was like a steady flow of waves, the excitement ebbing and flowing as he moved his mouth against mine.

But as nice as it was and as fun as it was, and even though my heart rate had sped up and a slight flutter of wings accrued in my stomach, I missed the fireworks. He didn’t kiss like her. He didn’t touch me like her. It didn’t feel quite right.

Was it because I didn’t actually like him? Was it because I was truly just into girls? Or was it because, as he kissed me, I wished it was her? 

Before I could be sure, he pulled his mouth away from mine, slowly releasing his grip from my body as we both gasped for breath.

Eyes locked for a moment, we seemed to be assessing each other for a signal that he enjoyed it. That I enjoyed it. But as he pressed his lips together, rubbing in the glistening saliva still lingering there, I noticed my throat was as dry as the outback.

“That was… okay,” I finally whispered.

A goofy grin spread across his face. “Okay? May, you’re destroying me here.”

“I suppose it was pretty good.” I gave him a small smile and his eyes lit up.

He rested his forehead against mine, which sparked an odd sharp sensation in my stomach that disappeared as quickly as it appeared. “That was the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

“I don’t have much experience.”

He grabbed my hand, resting it against his chest. “It’s because of what I felt in here. I didn’t know it was supposed to feel like that.”

His words caused my heart to sink. 

So it is supposed to feel like something amazing… a voice in the back of my head whispered. Which he clearly felt and I didn’t. “I need to get home,” I said.

Pulling back from me, he nodded. But then he grabbed my hand in his as he led me out of his house, back to his car.