A Kiss in the Dark

  I rummaged around in the bathroom cabinet until I found what I was looking for. The first-aid kit was right on the top shelf, almost out of reach. I took the green box back to my room and dumped the contents on to my bed. Sure enough, there was a roll of bandages. It was that adhesive sort of bandage that sticks to itself so you don’t need to use a safety pin.

  I took off my bra and started winding the bandage around my chest as tight as it would go. It took a few tries to get it right, overlapping it enough to make it stick. There was just enough bandage to do the job. It was itchy and constricted my breathing a little, but it was bearable. I jumped up and down a few times and waved my arms over my head to check it was totally secure. I stood in front of the mirror, then turned sideways. It had worked: my boobs were gone, flattened into nothingness.

  I grabbed my T-shirt out of the bin, brushed off some stray pencil shavings and pulled it over my head. Stepped back and looked in the mirror again. Better. Much better. I smoothed down the T-shirt, checking to see if I could feel the bandages beneath. Took off the T-shirt and put a vest on underneath it, just to be on the safe side. Another look in the mirror to check I looked OK, then I concentrated on sorting out my hair.

  I went for the same Converse and hoodie I’d worn to the gig. I didn’t want to look like I was making too much of an effort – it was a balancing act. By the time I was finally looking presentable it was nearly time to meet Kate. I didn’t want to be late and have her think I couldn’t be bothered making any effort at all. One last glance in the mirror and I was good to go.

  I grabbed my keys, wallet and skateboard and headed out. I didn’t realize it then, but I can remember clear as anything now: all that looking in the mirror and not once was I able to look myself in the eyes.

  chapter six

  We’d arranged to meet outside Pizza Express at eleven, which left me five minutes to get there. I jumped on my board and skated along St Stephen Street. I never normally skate on the pavement when it’s busy, but I was desperate not to be late. I nearly knocked down an old lady shuffling along with a tartan trolley and I got shouted at by a woman getting out of a Saab. I had to keep shouting ‘Sorry’ and ‘Excuse me’ and hope that no one came chasing after me.

  I probably should have left the board at home, but I’d have had to run to get there on time. I didn’t want to risk dislodging the bandages, for one thing. But I’d be lying if I said that was the only reason; if the girls up at Bristo Square were anything to go by, there was a good chance Kate would be impressed that I was into skating.

  I saw her before she saw me. Again. She was leaning over the wall of the bridge next to the restaurant. The Water of Leith was flowing fast below. It had been raining a lot recently, but that day was clear and sunny.

  Kate was wearing jeans and a black V-neck jumper. She had a red raincoat slung over her arm. She was wearing the same Converse as last night too. That made me smile. Her hair was tied back and I decided I really liked being able to see more of her face. She turned when she heard me approach and I stopped dead right in front of her, kicked the board up and tucked it under my arm. She smiled. ‘I see you’ve brought wheels … I don’t suppose there’s room on there for two?’

  I grinned. ‘Sadly not, but you can have a go if you want. It’s not as hard as it looks, you know.’

  ‘I know. I had one when I was little.’ She smiled mischievously and it put me right in my place.

  ‘So you think skateboarding is for little kids?’ Trying to sound like I didn’t care one way or the other.

  ‘That’s not exactly what I said now, is it?’ She was still smiling. ‘So are you going to give me a hug or what?’

  I obliged and this time I didn’t need to worry about our bodies touching. It was only half a hug anyway – Kate’s coat and my skateboard saw to that. I was almost tempted to chuck my board in the river; my lame attempt to impress her had well and truly failed and now it was just getting in my way.

  When she stepped away from the hug, Kate coughed awkwardly and looked away and I fiddled with the wheels on my board. There was a weird tension between us and I wasn’t even sure where it came from. Maybe we were both remembering last night’s text messages. Or maybe Kate really was turned off by the skateboard. I mean, what kind of idiot brings a skateboard to a date? Because there was no doubt in my mind now. The awkwardness had just confirmed it: this was definitely a date. My first ever date and it was with a girl. A girl who thought I was a boy.

  *

  We walked down to the water and headed upstream. It was busier than I’d have liked – joggers and couples and families. I wanted them all to disappear and leave Kate and me to wander in peace. It was distracting, passing all those people, scanning their faces to see if I knew them. I tried to do it surreptitiously but I think Kate noticed. She didn’t say anything though.

  The awkwardness between us dissipated after we’d been chatting for a while. It was easier when we were walking side-by-side rather than face-to-face. It was less intense that way. There were other things to focus on, like putting one foot in front of the other and trying not to slip on the soggy leaves underfoot.

  Kate was quizzing me about my family, my friends, anything she could think of. I tried to answer as honestly as I could. It felt like she was filling in the gaps of her knowledge about me, maybe trying to reassure herself that she wasn’t making some huge mistake. I told her a couple of stories about Jamie to make her laugh; she said she’d really like to meet him one day. I tried to imagine that actually happening. Maybe I could tell her the truth and she’d be cool with it and she’d understand why I hadn’t been honest from the start. If things went to plan and I kept liking Kate and she kept liking me (that was the tricky part of the equation), then there was a chance everything would be alright in the end. Because that was how life was supposed to work, wasn’t it? True love will prevail or whatever. Not that I was in love with her or anything. Not then, anyway.

  We stopped on a bridge when we got to Dean Village. It was one of my favourite spots in the city. You could look around and almost imagine you were in a different century – as long as you ignored the blocks of flats on the south side.

  Kate leaned against the railing and raised her face towards the sun. She closed her eyes and sighed. ‘This is perfect.’

  She stayed like that and I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to say something. I didn’t want to ruin the moment, and I didn’t want her to open her eyes. I was enjoying watching her. Not like some creepy stalker or anything. It’s just easier to look at someone when they’re not looking at you. You get to notice things you haven’t noticed before – the little details that make a person’s face pleasing to your eye. I noticed that Kate’s eyelashes were longer than mine, that her eyebrows were a shade or two paler than her blonde hair, that her nose was impossibly straight, that she had a tiny scar on her forehead. I wanted to keep looking, drinking in every last detail until I’d memorized that face. Just in case this all went wrong, whatever ‘this’ was, I’d always have the memory of her standing on that bridge.

  Kate opened her eyes and caught me staring. She smiled and I wondered if she’d done it on purpose – closing her eyes to let me look at her. That seemed too calculated for her though. ‘It’s actually pretty warm when you concentrate, you know. The sun’s making a real effort but you have to stop and pay attention otherwise you’ll just think it’s cold because it’s October and it should be cold …’ She trailed off when she saw my baffled expression, then she rolled her eyes and shook her head. ‘Sorry, that doesn’t make much sense, does it?’

  ‘Um … I think I know what you’re getting at …’ I didn’t though – not really. I didn’t really understand her, back then. I knew I liked her and that was enough for me. I knew that I wanted to understand her.

  Kate laughed and gave me a gentle shove on the shoulder. ‘You don’t have to pretend, you know. You can tell me to shut up when I’m talking rubbish – I can take it!’ She paused and her face trans
formed into something serious. ‘I want you to be honest with me, Alex.’

  My mouth went dry and I was suddenly sure that she knew. That she’d just been humouring me and all along she’d been waiting for me to say something, to come clean and admit that I lied to her. But then the way she was looking at me convinced me otherwise. There was a sparkle in her eyes, a warmth that surely wouldn’t be there if she knew the truth. I had to say something now. Something special and deep and meaningful. ‘OK.’ I fail.

  But Kate smiled as if it was exactly what she wanted to hear. ‘Good.’ A mischievous glint appeared in her eye. ‘Now … race you back to Pizza Express? I’ll even let you use your skateboard.’

  I was just about to ask if she was serious when she turned on her heels and ran. An old couple who were crossing the bridge turned and looked at me – the woman was frowning as if I’d done something to make Kate run off like that. I stood there looking like an idiot, watching Kate run away from me. She was pretty fast. She looked back over her shoulder and narrowly avoided colliding with a kid on a scooter. I sighed; I was going to have to chase her, wasn’t I?

  I started to run. I quickly realized Kate had an advantage: people were way more likely to get out of the way for a pretty teenage girl who looked like she might be late for something important. They weren’t so accommodating for a teenage boy disrupting their Saturday stroll and generally making a nuisance of himself. I could have sworn some people deliberately got in my way.

  That was the first time that other people thought I was a boy. At least I think it was. You don’t exactly go round stopping people on the street, asking them to guess your gender. But as I dodged past people in pursuit of Kate there was no doubt in my mind that people saw a boy. Maybe it was just because they expected to see a boy or maybe it was because I wanted them to see a boy. Whatever the reason, I was glad.

  For the record, I’ve never actually wanted to be a boy. People seem to think I had some kind of evil master plan, like I woke up one day thinking, Hey, you know what would be really fun? Pretending to be a boy. As if.

  Mum always had this idea that I wished I was a boy because I always looked up to Jamie so much when I was little – copying everything he did and following him and his mates around. And I usually liked his Christmas presents more than mine. I never understood why everything I got seemed to be pink or fluffy or both and everything he got was just … better. I would have liked a remote-controlled car or a Transformer or Lego or whatever. Teddy bears and dolls were not my cup of tea, no matter how much Mum wanted them to be. She only stopped buying me dolls when I decapitated Barbie in the name of science. Then she moved on to mostly buying me art stuff, which was fine because I’ve always liked drawing.

  I grew up thinking Jamie was the coolest person on the planet and I think he enjoyed the hero worship. He used to get me to run around after him, fetching chocolate digestives from the kitchen and running down to the shop to buy him sweets. Mum didn’t like that – she’d always tell him off if she caught me doing stuff for him, saying I wasn’t his slave. But Jamie would just laugh it off and say that I liked helping him. He was right. But I didn’t want to be him. It was more that I wanted to be able to do the things he did. Life just seemed a lot more fun for boys sometimes. Less complicated somehow.

  I got stuck behind a bunch of French tourists stopping to take photos of leaves or something, so by the time I caught up to Kate she was nearly back where we’d started the walk. She was standing with her hands planted on her hips and she did this fake yawn as if she’d been there for ages (when she was blatantly still out of breath).

  ‘I let you win. Just so you know.’ I shrugged. ‘I’m pretty charitable like that.’

  She rolled her eyes and shook her head. ‘Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. I thought you were supposed to be good at running? I think you might need to train a little harder. Let me know if you need any tips, OK?’

  ‘Thanks. That’s really kind of you … But we’re not quite at the finish line yet, are we? So technically, the race isn’t over yet …’ I bolted, laughing my head off as Kate chased me down the path and across the road.

  She was laughing too, in between shouting out things like ‘CHEAT!’ and ‘NOT FAIR!’ She didn’t care that people were stopping to look at us. I loved that about her – she wasn’t self-conscious. This time people saw a teenage girl chasing a teenage boy and they smiled indulgently because that was cute, apparently. I slowed down and let her catch up, so she slapped her hand on the wall of Pizza Express a split-second before I did.

  Kate turned to me, panting. ‘You really did let me win that time, didn’t you?’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not … you’ll never know for sure, will you?’ I gave her what I hoped was a charming grin.

  She narrowed her eyes. ‘I don’t need you to let me win. I’m perfectly capable of winning on my own, thank you very much.’

  I couldn’t tell if she was being serious. I put my hand on my heart. ‘I’m sorry. I solemnly swear to never ever let you win, at anything, ever. I will win at ALL the things.’

  ‘Oh shut up, you.’ She elbowed me in the side and for the first time in a while I was aware of the bandages itching against my skin. ‘I’m buying the pizza, OK? I don’t want to hear any arguments from you.’

  I promised that I wouldn’t put up a fight to pay for the pizza, even though I felt awkward about Kate paying for stuff. I know Jamie usually pays for drinks when he goes on dates, but there’s no reason why guys should have to pay for everything. It’s like those girls at school always going on about finding a rich boyfriend (preferably a footballer) to buy them loads of presents and take them to ‘all the best places’. I’d rather buy my own stuff and pay my own way, and I had less than zero interest in ‘all the best places’. Kate clearly had similar feelings so it was weird that I suddenly felt uncomfortable about her buying me lunch. It was almost like I was starting to slip away from myself.

  chapter seven

  We shared a pizza after a long discussion about our favourite pizza toppings. It turned out we mostly liked the same things (pepperoni, jalapenos) so we didn’t have to get one of those half-and-half pizzas. We pretty much devoured the whole pizza – and the side of garlic dough balls she’d insisted on ordering. Clearly she wasn’t planning on doing any kissing today. I was relieved, because the thought of kissing her made me feel a bit sick. I’d thought a lot about kissing her. Of course I had. And I wanted to. Of course I did. But that didn’t make me feel any less nervous about the prospect. Anyway, maybe she didn’t want to kiss me. Maybe she was coming to the conclusion that we’d be better off as friends. And then I’d be able to tell her the truth and everything would be OK.

  Towards the end of the meal Kate looked at me shyly. ‘Can I tell you something? As long as you promise not to laugh …’

  ‘You can tell me anything.’ I meant it. There was nothing she could say that I wouldn’t want to hear.

  ‘I’ve never been on a proper date before.’ She scrunched up her napkin and started tearing off little pieces.

  I laughed and Kate frowned. ‘You said you wouldn’t laugh! Oh God, this is so embarrassing. I knew I shouldn’t have told you. Forget I said anything. I’ve been on lots of dates … LOADS. At least three every week. In fact, it leaves me very little time for anything else. So there.’ She stuck out her bottom lip in the perfect pout and it was unbelievably adorable.

  ‘I’m sorry! I wasn’t laughing at you … honestly. It’s just …’ I hesitated. Could I be as brave as her? About this, at least. I had to. ‘I’ve never been on a date before either.’

  She didn’t believe me. I could tell that before she even opened her mouth. ‘You’re just saying that to make me feeling better.’

  ‘I’m not.’ We looked into each other’s eyes for a second or two and then she sat back in her chair and smiled.

  ‘So we’re both newbies then? For some reason I thought you were really experienced or … I don’t know. You seem so … cool with everyth
ing. Like nothing fazes you.’ She couldn’t have been more wrong. ‘So this is really your very first date?’ I nodded, pretending to be as cool as she thought I was. She narrowed her eyes. ‘So this is definitely a real, proper date?’ I nodded again.

  Kate considered that for a moment or two. ‘That makes me happy.’

  I considered for a moment or two longer. ‘Me too.’

  We sat there grinning at each other. It was the kind of thing that’s a bit sickening if you’re not actually involved in it. But I was involved in it and it was brilliant.

  It was nearly three o’clock by the time we’d finished eating. I went to get my wallet out but one stern look from Kate stopped me in my tracks. I held up my hands in surrender and she looked smug. ‘You can pay next time …’

  Another next time. Another chance. I wondered if she kept saying ‘next time’ deliberately, like she sensed I needed reassurance. Or maybe she was looking for reassurance.

  We left the restaurant and wandered back up the hill towards town. I didn’t say anything when we passed the end of my road. Princes Street was rammed with people who have nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon than shop for crap they don’t need. I waited with Kate at the bus stop. There were loads of people waiting – old ladies and women with buggies mostly. The bus came and we stepped back to let everyone else on first. Kate took my hand and squeezed it. She whispered in my ear and her breath tickled a bit. ‘I really want to kiss you but I have terrible garlic breath and I’d rather not do it in front of all these people. Can we go somewhere more private next time? Assuming you … um … want to kiss me too?’

  ‘I … yes. I really do.’

  I had never wanted anything more.

  *

  It was a good first date. As good as a first date can be when there’s a secret that huge hanging over you, threatening to flatten you the minute you slip up and say or do the wrong thing. There was only one thing missing, but I was happy to wait. It was excruciating, of course – the anticipation of what it would be like when her lips met mine.