Crush by Carrie Mac Read Free Book Online

on her.

Chapter Seven
    Larissa and Maira come home as it gets dark. When I hear the key in the front door, I race upstairs and hide in the stairwell and listen to their quiet murmurs as they bring in the sleeping twins and all the beach gear and baby bags and coolers. I should go down to help, but I don’t know what to say to them, and I know that if I start talking, I won’t stop. I know that I’d end up telling them about Orion, which makes me feel crappy just thinkingabout it, and then, worse, about Nat, which I just plain don’t understand. I think it’d be best if I just didn’t say anything. I don’t trust myself right now. Hell, I don’t even know myself right now. Thankfully, I’d planned ahead and left them a note on the counter in the kitchen saying I was going to bed early.
    I try watching TV, but entire shows run by and I don’t even notice. I turn the TV off and crawl into bed, but all I can think about is Nat, standing there in the sunlight, her head cocked, and that grin. I stuff my head under my pillow. What am I thinking? What am I doing? Do I want to kiss Nat just to say I’d kissed a girl? Is it because I’m staying with lesbians? Not that I think it is catching—that’s ridiculous—but it’s not like the thought had ever occurred to me before now. Something is happening, and I don’t know what. Yeah, it could be that I’m into girls, but it could also just be me doing what I often do, which is doing something for the sake of experience. My dad has warned me more than once that while he supports my insatiable curiosity, he worries that it might get me into a bit oftrouble here and there. I think this is a fine example of “here and there.”
    I chuck the pillow across the room and get out of bed. There’s no way I can sleep! How can anyone actually sleep when life is going on?
    I look at myself in the mirror. Am I queer? Do I want to be a lesbian? Do I care either way? I wish I could call my parents. Dad would know what to do. I shut my eyes and put my fingers to my temples. When I was little, my dad and I would try to guess what the other was thinking. Okay, not only when I was little—we still do it, as hokey as it sounds. It’s pretty amazing how often we’re right. One of us will tell Mom a number we’re thinking of, or a picture we have in mind, and lots of times we get it right. Mind you, way more times we’re completely wrong.
    “Dad?” I whisper. “Can you hear me?”
    Nothing. Maybe Thailand is just too far away.
    “There’s this girl...” I open my eyes. This is stupid. I know what he’d say. That part iseasy. Follow your heart, baby girl. I’m one of those super blessed kids who have parents who would actually celebrate if their kid wanted to join the circus or become a tattoo artist or sing in a rock band or make pottery for a living, so kissing a girl is nothing they’d have a problem with. In fact, The Talk in our house included stuff like: “It’s okay to love women if you’re a woman, or men if you’re a man...the Universe creates love of all kinds, and all of it is pure and beautiful and precious.”
    I should’ve kissed her. How else am I going to know?
    “Damn,” I mutter at my reflection. “Now you might not get another chance. Way to go, Hopeless.”
    Sleep is like an impatient slip of nothing, but for some reason I wake up and the world feels like one big blue ball of brilliance. I bounce downstairs, scoop a baby up in each arm and dance them around the kitchen to the music from the radio.
    “Why the good mood?” Larissa staresbleary-eyed at the coffeemaker as it slowly does its thing.
    “Not sure.” I set Felix down, grab a mug from the cupboard and pour Larissa a cup of coffee mid-brew. “Ta da!”
    “Wow.” Larissa grips the mug. “How did you do that?”
    “It has a sensor.” I laugh. “You didn’t know that?”
    “No.” Larissa takes a sip. “Oh, yes. That’s it. Bless you, Hope.”
    Felix flaps his hands at me, so I pick