A Girl Called Malice. Aurelia Rowl B.

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body language screamed at me to back off but he was just too polite to voice it. He got around it by locking his jaws so tightly together I expected to hear a grinding sound and I swear he’d stopped breathing. It was like I’d pressed some invisible pause button by accident and left him frozen.

       What have I done?

      Moisture gathered in my eyes as tears threatened to spill over, but I didn’t cry over guys and I certainly didn’t cry over rejection. I’d had a lifetime to get used to that feeling. Zac’s body language reached deafening level and snapped me out of my stupor. I pulled away to give him some space but foolishly risked a glance at his face as I sank back onto my heels.

      A slight red tinge crept across the top of his cheekbone to the tip of his ear and he eyed me warily. Within a millisecond I could tell that I’d blown it. A barrier had gone up between us and it wasn’t one of mine. Being on the other side was as effective as a bucket of cold water being dumped on me and it doused the more stubborn flames.

      ‘I’m sorry, I… That was…’ My voice quivered and then died altogether. If I could have wound back the clock, I would have but the damage was done. Goosebumps erupted over my arms but my hands were still held within Zac’s grip so I couldn’t use them to chase away the icy chill that coursed through my veins.

      First my snark had failed and now one of my best come-on’s to date had been nothing short of a disaster. Everything had been fine earlier so it had to be something to do with either Charlie or Zac. Ridiculous as it seemed, I found it easier to consider the possibility that Zac was impervious to me. Or maybe the tree somehow zapped my powers?

      No, my ‘powers’ lay on the wash stand of my en-suite bathroom. Mum made a point of telling me how much I looked like my father, then in the same breath telling me how ugly he’d been. She’d been right all along…without the lenses and the make-up I was nothing.

      ‘Alice?’ Zac’s voice sounded tentative. Concerned. ‘You’ve gone really pale. Are you OK?’

      ‘No,’ I blurted. How many ordeals in one day was a person supposed to be able to cope with? ‘I’ve had a really shitty day, that’s all.’

      ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

      ‘Talk about it?’ I stared down at our joined hands, the only connection we had left, and bit back a sob. What was it about him had that allowed him to get under my skin? ‘I can’t even look at you any more.’

      ‘Is this because of—’

      ‘Just forget it.’ I snatched my hands back and stumbled to my feet. The wide open space of the park now suffocated me and I yearned for the sanctuary of my room. ‘I’m sorry you got caught up in my latest crisis, Zac.’

      ‘What crisis?’

      I ignored him and made a beeline for Charlie. ‘We need to go now, Charlie Bear.’

      He looked up from my phone which he’d obviously found. ‘But we haven’t had our picnic yet,’ he said, his eyes beseeching mine.

      A tear spilled onto my cheek but I dashed it away with the back of my fingers. ‘I know, and I’m sorry.’ Yet again. I’d done nothing but apologise all day.

      ‘Is that why you’re crying again?’ He hadn’t bought the shampoo theory then?

      ‘A little bit,’ I said, forcing a smile onto my face for his sake. ‘I really need to go home but how about a movie afternoon instead? And we could have our picnic on the floor?’

      ‘Yay!’

      ‘Come on then, let’s get out of here.’ I turned to leave but found Zac stood right behind me with his arms crossed in front of him.

      ‘What about your hands?’ he asked.

      ‘I’m sure I’ll survive,’ I said, throwing his own words back at him again. Uncanny how I could remember nearly everything he’d said, word for word.

      ‘Did you walk here then?’

      ‘No, I dro—’ My shoulders slumped and jogged another tear free. I couldn’t possibly drive a car. We were trapped.

      ‘Where are your keys?’ Zac asked, interpreting the rest of my sentence.

      ‘In the front pocket of my rucksack. Why?’

      ‘Great. I’ll drive.’

      ‘But—’

      ‘Do you have any better ideas?’ He strode towards my bag then hitched it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing, scooping up the blanket in the same movement. ‘Charlie, can you grab the ball for me please, mate?’

      Charlie of course obliged—the traitor—and happily trotted back towards the car with Zac. Just like that, he had assumed leadership. I ought to have kicked up a stink rather than set the women’s lib movement back to the Fifties but after the day I’d had, Zac was welcome to take control. They both stopped and looked back once they realised I wasn’t with them.

      ‘Alice?’ Zac called.

      ‘Coming,’ I said, breaking into a trot to catch up.

      The damage might have been done but there was still a chance I could fix it. No matter what, I didn’t want Zac to leave with a bad opinion of me, regardless of how true it might be with everybody else.

       Chapter five

      Patient

      Charlie ran on ahead; this time on a mission to collect every single red leaf that had fallen so I fell in step beside Zac, maintaining an appropriate distance from him. We walked together in amiable silence but it wasn’t long before my legs reminded me of their close encounter with the branch. The backs of my calves and the insides of my knees and thighs stung as if I’d been attacked by a porcupines.

      Every time they brushed together, I had to swallow a yelp and ended up walking like some macho cowboy. Either that or a heavily pregnant woman. Zac’s guard remained up for the whole walk but at least he’d stuck around. When we arrived at the car park, his feet dragged to a stop and he whipped his head around to face me.

      ‘I’ve got to drive that?’ he asked, thumbing towards the only vehicle parked there.

      ‘What’s wrong with my car?’

      ‘It’s…’ He swallowed. ‘Pink.’

      ‘Yes, it is.’ Thank goodness I’d mastered deadpan. A bit of banter might just help get things back to how they’d been before I’d fucked up. It certainly couldn’t do any more harm.

      ‘You drive a bright-pink car.’

      ‘Full marks for observation but I prefer to think of it as hot pink. It sounds less garish, don’t you think?’

      ‘Hot pink?’

      ‘That’s right.’

      ‘And I’ve got to drive it?’

      I

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