41
" Mom.’
‘Hmm?’ She replies from miles away in her planter’s paradise.
Deepest of breaths. ‘When Luke comes over later, would it be okay if we watched a movie in my bedroom?’
The paper goes down and she eyeballs me from over the top of her wire reading glasses.
‘Should I be worried?’
‘No.’ I shake my head, whip my hair into a frenzy.
‘Have you gotten comfortable with him touching you yet?’
‘Sort of . . .’ In retrospect, I could have probably said no.
‘What does that mean? Exactly?’ She folds You and Your Garden Monthly in half, sets it down beside her empty bowl.
‘It means we take all our clothes off, and he turns into a koala, clings to me like a tree while we watch TV.’
Mom chokes on the sip of tea she’s just taken. ‘Norah Jane Dean.’
‘It was a joke.’
‘Obviously,’ she says. ‘I’m just a little shocked you made it.’
Her shock would be less, I’m sure, if she knew how hard I was working to keep a mental image of the aforementioned out of my mind. I take half a second to wonder if Luke would find my quip amusing. It’s a joke at his expense, after all, having an abnormal girlfriend, one he can’t touch.
‘So what is “sort of” comfortable?’ Mom prods.
‘I touched his hand last week, you know, before the fear kicked in. "
― Louise Gornall , Under Rose-Tainted Skies
42
" Where do you want me to sit?’ he says, eyeballing the couch. It’s a three-seater, so we can share it without me getting weird.
I sit on the left, he flops down on the right, and an immeasurable black hole opens up in the space between us. I’d never really noticed how far away the other side of the sofa was until now. We may need cups and string to communicate.
‘So, what do you wanna watch?’ Luke asks, his voice raised a little because he’s noted the overcautious distance and is having a little fun with it.
‘I don’t want to catch boy cooties,’ I tell him. ‘You could have been anywhere, rolling around in anything, before you showed up here.’
‘This is true. Can I just note, I really admire your level of resistance to my raw animal magnetism,’ he says, all snark.
‘I’m not going to lie.’ I let out an exhausted breath. ‘It’s been tough. "
― Louise Gornall , Under Rose-Tainted Skies
44
" It’s five o’clock, and I’m reaching into the fridge for a block of cheese when there’s a knock at the door.
Stealth mode engaged, I abandon making what would have been the world’s most perfect sandwich and creep up the hall, eyeing the door like whoever is on the other side is going to burst right through it.
We have a staredown then, the door and I. It’s pretty intense, just short of an evil sheriff hiding in the shadows, chewing on a matchstick.
Another knock.
Without moving my eyes, I pump a blob of antibacterial gel into my hands and rub it away. Because I’m sure the only thing on any home invader’s mind, after being polite enough to knock first, is a sanitary victim. I roll my eyes so hard they almost fall out of my skull. "
― Louise Gornall , Under Rose-Tainted Skies
47
" I mean, I’m pasty, sallow, reasonably tall at five foot six, and my mom would say as thin as a rake. Social Convention dictates that I must deny being pretty, but I am . . . pretty. It’s one of the only things I have that makes me feel normal. Of course, I pervert that normality by embracing my looks. I’m supposed to pretend that I’ve never noticed my face. I see it happen on The Hub all the time: a person tells someone else that they’re pretty, and they deny all knowledge, refute the compliment into oblivion, but hell-to-the-no am I ever doing that. This is mine, one of the only things about me that I actually like. I own it. And Social Convention will have to pry it from my cold, dead hands before I ever give it up. "
― Louise Gornall , Under Rose-Tainted Skies