Take My Hand (9 page)

Emily

Seeing
the state of Dexter’s flat made me glad I came. I
debated with myself for over an hour about whether to come. We’re not exactly
best friends – we still hardly know each other – but I figured we
should change that if we’re going to be working together on our Uni assignment.
Now I just needed to get over the fact that I’d lied to our tutor and told him
both Dexter and I had food poisoning from a dodgy burger van. I’ve never told
such a blatant lie before and I still don’t really know why I did it. There
were plenty of other times and places Dexter and I could’ve gotten to know one
another. Still it might well have earned me a new tick for Number 17:

·
Do something badass!

I certainly considered lying to someone in a
position of authority as ‘being badass’. But to Rachel it’s probably no more
exciting than ordering extra cream in my coffee. Anyway, I decided to worry
about that later. We had a stinking carpet to get rid of.

“Ah this shit’s never gonna come off,” Dexter
groaned after we’d peeled away almost half the carpet, revealing a tonne of
sticky crap that I assumed was laid to help the carpet stay in place. The veins
in his neck were popping out of both frustration and effort as he tried to
scrub it off with a wallpaper scraper.

“You know you can buy this special stuff in
B&Q that dissolves all things sticky. I think it might even be called
Sticky Stuff Remover. Maybe we should go get some?”

“B&Q… that’s a hardware store right?”
Instinctively my face contorted into an expression which read ‘are you being
serious, what planet are you from?’ And then I remembered that he had never
even visited this country until just over a month ago.

“Right. There’s one about five minutes away
on that big retail park just past Tesco. I can drive us if you don’t know where
it is,” I offered.

“Nah, I think I know where you mean. I can go
on my own though if you want to get going.” Huh. I felt like I’d just been
slapped across the face though I have no idea why. Did he want me to go? I knew
I shouldn’t have come. “I mean I’d really appreciate it if you
did
come.
I just don’t want to keep you from anything.” And just like that, I was in a
great mood again. God this move was taking its toll on me – I can’t keep
up with my moods lately.

“Well I’ve got nothing better planned.
Besides, I’m determined to get this place cleared up before bedtime.”

“You have a bedtime? That’s cute, doll,” he
teased. I wanted to slap his shoulder but I didn’t feel like we were at that
stage in our friendship yet.

“You know what I mean. Stop being a jerk,” I
retorted playfully. “So are we going or what?”

“Impatient little thing aren’t we?” Dexter
got up from the floor and I followed. “Come on,” he said, laughing to himself.

I followed Dexter out of his cramped flat and
down the single flight of stairs to the main entrance. The stairs smelt like
public toilets and I had to try really hard not to gag. When we stepped outside
he led me around the corner of the old, crumbling-brick building to a small car
park with a heavy yellow barrier that looked so rusty I doubt it had dropped
down in years.

“Good. You’re wearing sneakers,” he noted,
glancing down at my feet. Confused, I opened my mouth to ask him why my choice
of footwear was important to him but then closed it again when he stopped by a
big black motorbike.

Oh crap.

“Please tell me this isn’t what you drive?” I
asked nervously, petrified-induced bile scratching at my throat.

“Sure is,” he winked, “Em, meet Jenny,” he
announced proudly, reaching into a bucket-style compartment fixed onto the back
and pulling out two shiny black helmets.

“Jenny?”

“Jenny. She’s my baby in training. Needs a
lotta work doing on her but I love her all the same.” I couldn’t decide if I
found his love for this metal death trap adorable or just plain freaky.

“Well I’m not getting on that,” I protested
determinedly.

“Oh come on. You’re not
afraid
are
you?” he taunted with a wicked grin stretched across his too-playful-to-resist
face.

“No,” I lied, straightening my back as if
that made me look more confident with what I was saying.

“Aww whassa madda pwincess? You scared of da
big bad bike?” he mocked again in his best kiddie accent. I huffed like a
stroppy thirteen year old and rolled my eyes. There’s no way I’m going to
escape eye-wrinkles when I’m older. Dexter and Rachel would make sure of that
– it seems they both have faces which are just crying out to have eyes
rolled at. “Come on, doll. Take my hand - I’ll keep you safe I promise,” he
added, sounding too sincere to not believe him.

I took the hand he was offering out to me,
and the hamster-sized butterflies that were shredding my stomach to pieces just
seconds ago, instantaneously disappeared. I couldn’t help notice how strange it
felt. Or rather how
not
strange it felt. Whenever I held Jared’s hand I
was always so acutely aware of it. Not that I minded it, or didn’t enjoy
touching Jared – I just knew I was doing it. Everyone has their preferred
way of holding hands. Some like their fingers on top, some on the bottom. Some
like them intertwined – like me. And of course if it’s someone new, you
can’t exactly say ‘actually I prefer to do it this way’ because you’d sound
stupid. So usually, only people you’ve known for years can offer a truly
comfortable hand hold.

But holding Dexter’s… the gaps between his fingers
were the perfect fit for mine as I entwined them with his. Almost like they
were designed to slot together. It felt so… easy. As if we’d been holding hands
for years and we knew just how each other liked it.

Never letting go of my hand Dexter hopped up
onto the bike effortlessly. Then he stiffened his arm so I could use it for
support while I clambered on behind him.

“Your hands are sticky,” I noted when I had
to peel away from his firm yet gentle grip to put my helmet on.

“So are yours,” he threw back, his helmet
already in place. I slipped mine over my head and fiddled with the straps
falling down either side of my face.

“This is too big,” I pouted, hopeful this
meant we could take my car after all.

“Stop whining,” he mocked with a playful
glint in his denim-blue eyes. He shifted his body so he was half-facing me and
teased the loose straps from my fingers. “They just need a little tightening.”
After some slight tugging he fastened the clasp under my chin and then pressed
on my nose like a button. “Suits you.” He winked at me and my belly felt weird
– like the beginnings of a stomach bug.

You watch, I’ll be coming down with the exact
condition I lied about this morning. Bloody karma.

“Ready, doll?”

“No.”

He shook his head but I couldn’t see his
expression because he’d flipped his helmet visor down and turned back around. I
noticed handles on either side of me which I assumed I was supposed to hold on
to, so I did. It didn’t feel very secure – I was wobbling from side to
side already and we hadn’t even set off yet. Oh crap I was so going to die
today.

“Gimme your hands,” Dexter ordered gently.
“You’ll feel safer like this.” He reached behind him and took hold of my hands.
Then he pulled them around his waist and linked my fingers together around his
tight stomach. I was definitely coming down with something. I could literally
feel something bubbling in my belly as I pressed my whole body against his,
tightened my arms around his waist and closed my petrified eyes. “Here we go!”

Bringing the bike to life with a kick of his
foot, we started to move – getting progressively faster until we hit the
main road. I could hear the harsh wind pounding against my helmet and feel it
ballooning my clothes. Even taking into account being struck down with a severe
case of the Norovirus a couple of years ago, I had never felt so close to
crapping my pants my whole life.

**********

“Feeling better?” Dexter asked as I reached inside the KFC bucket to
grab the last piece of chicken. My head had been spinning since the second he
helped me off the bike.

“Much. Food solves everything in my world,” I admitted and hoped I
didn’t sound like a greedy fat pig. “It’s nothing like in the books though.”

“Books?” he asked, confused.

“Yeah, you know in romance books? The hottest guys
always
have a
bike, and then he takes the girl on her first ride and she laps up the feeling
of the wind in her hair. She feels free and excited and all that crap. Whereas
I spent the whole time trying not to throw up all over your shoulder.”

“Is that you saying I’m hot?”

“What? No!” I snapped defensively.

“But I thought all the hottest guys had motorcycles?” he teased.

“I said ‘in books’. I mean seriously, in real life half the motorbike
owners of the world are fat and balding middle-aged men trying to get back
their lost youth.” Dexter was most definitely
not
one of those men. If I
was completely honest with myself he could easily fit into the hot book guy
category. I’d die before I’d tell him that though.

I took on the task of chief carpet ripper-up-erer while Dexter set about
tackling the sticky stuff. The special formula we got from B&Q (which
really
was
called Sticky Stuff
Remover) worked like a charm and with the help of the wallpaper scraper it came
off pretty effortlessly. Once the squares of mouldy carpet were all outside in
the communal skip, I mopped the floor while Dexter washed down the walls and
cupboards.

He grunted and sighed as we worked. The whole place needed redecorating
and his couch would probably never be sit-on-able ever again. It was going to
cost a few hundred quid at least to sort the mess out and I assumed it was
money he didn’t have going off the amount of groans and swear words pouring out
of his mouth.

By the time evening drew in I was tired and dirty but I couldn’t
remember the last day I’d had so much fun. Funnily enough ‘find a new friend’
isn’t on the New Life List, which is a shame because I would give that an
almighty bold tick in a bright standout colour.

“I should get back before Rachel reports me as missing,” I said, feeling
disheartened for some unfathomable reason.

“Yeah. She’s not someone I want on my bad side for keeping you out too
late,” he joked. Or at least I think he was joking. But then again it was
Rachel we were talking about. “Thank you for everything today. I really
appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” I declared and meant it wholeheartedly. “You know if you ever
get lonely hanging around this place on your own you should come to our place.
We’ve got a dry couch after all.” His eyes swept the ground and I knew it was
because he’d never take me up on the offer. Like me, he’s not naturally
sociable. “Bring Jared too. We could make a night of it.” I don’t really know
why I was even asking him. I’ve never made a night of anything. At least not
one I’d like to repeat.

“Maybe,” he eventually replied with what looked like regret dulling his
eyes. Had I said something wrong? My spirit suddenly felt a little dampened and
I started to wish I’d never opened my mouth.

Dexter walked me downstairs to his door and waved me off once I’d got in
the car. I smiled all the way home and it made absolutely no sense to me why I
was in such a good mood. Maybe because this New Life thing is really happening.
I’ve already acquired two great friends in Dexter and Jared, my studies were
going better than expected and for the first time I could actually imagine
myself being confident enough to start ticking off the boxes on the list.

Yeah, this New Life rules.

After pulling up and getting out of the car I heard smashing sounds
coming from inside our flat as I neared the front door. My pulse quickening, I
hesitantly opened the door, convinced we were being burgled.

“Bloody hell, Rach what the hell are you doing?” I blared, relief
swimming through my veins and slowing my racing heart when I saw Rachel
smacking beer bottles against the wooden table in the living room.

“This is art my friend. Or at least it will be when I’ve finished with
it,” she answered, never looking up from the carpet of shattered glass. Being
an ‘arty type’ this was Rachel’s thing – taking broken, useless or
sometimes downright ugly objects and making something she classed as artistic
out of them. Maybe it’s just because I wouldn’t know a Picasso if it slapped me
in the face, but the time she made a life-sized horse out of wire coat-hangers
I couldn’t help flash her my ‘what the actual frig’ face.

“You over last night yet?” I asked, still concerned that she was hiding
how she really felt behind her iron mask. The date she was so looking forward
to was a disaster. She’d gone out with the intention of sleeping with him
because she genuinely fancied him and thought he felt the same, only for him to
tell her over dinner that he’d always wanted to Eff You See Kay a disabled person.
What a bloody weirdo! Honestly who in their right mind says that?