Diary of a Resurrection (A Novella) by Amanda Day Page A

wished it had
been different. I wished it could have been somewhere else. I wished I looked
prettier. I wanted you to like me.
    “I thought we could take a walk,” you said.
    I wanted to go more than anything.
    “I can’t. I still have some of my shift left,” I replied.
You knew it too.
    “So pretend you’re ill.” That grin of yours came again and I
almost agreed.
    I shook my head. “I can’t, I need the money.” It was true,
but I would have blown it off for you. I just didn’t want you to know that. Not
so soon.
    I watched you look at me, really look at me. You scrutinised
my face and then slowly my body. Up and down, unashamed and open. Then you
shrugged.
    “I’ll wait.”
    It was the longest shift of my life.

My Hand in Yours….
     
    Finally work ended. I brushed my
hair, put on some lip gloss, and hoped it would be enough.
    At five minutes past three am, I walked into the Pizza
Planet car-park and found you sitting there, propped against a sleek black
motorbike, tapping at your phone. Typical, I thought. Hot and cool. Which you
definitely turned out to be, just not in the way I thought.
    “Nice bike,” I said. “You never mentioned that you rode.”
    You smiled. “You never said how good you looked in yellow
and blue, so we’re probably even.”
    I blushed, glad it was dark. You stood up and held a hand
out to me.
    “Shall we?”
    I looked at it a moment, then reached out and took it. Your
fingers wrapped around mine tight, holding on like we had been together for
years. I was surprised because my hand fitted there perfectly and it felt right
to be against your warm skin.
    We walked to the park, the path lit gently by the moon. It
was still sticky warm with barely a breeze, but I had goose-bumps and, despite
one being wrapped so tight in yours, my hands were cold and clammy. My heart
thundered in my chest and I was afraid you would notice.
    “Am I what you imagined?” you asked as we walked.
    I kept stealing glances at you and maybe you had noticed.
    I pretended to think on it a minute, then shook my head.
“No. Not at all.” You were so much better.
    You grinned; the moonlight glinted on your teeth and eyes
making you look a little manic.
    “What did you expect?” you asked, maybe fishing for
compliments.
    I shrugged and played for time. I didn’t want to appease
your ego, which I knew you had the second I saw you. On the phone you had been
sweet and interested. Asking me about my family and the things I did or liked.
Always remembering little things I said and bringing them up again another
time. In person you were something else. When I saw you, leaning against your
bike, you looked like someone starring in a movie about their life. Like you
believed it was a movie everyone would want to see. You smirked often; I mean
who smirks apart from smug people? And your grin had an edge that seemed well
practiced and like it always won you your own way. You walked with a cocky
swagger; broad, long strides, controlling of the air around you. And your
clothes. No one wears all black with a leather jacket, and rides a bike like
that, unless they think they’re hot. And you were. I just didn’t want to say
it.
    “You’re paler than I thought,” was all I let you have.
    You threw your head back and laughed as if I were ridiculous.
“Paler?”
    I shrugged. “What about me?”
    You tugged on my hand. “You’re shorter than I expected.”
Then you did that grin, the one that said, two can play at this game.
    I let it slide, not asking any more. Not probing. I didn’t
want to seem desperate for your assessment of me, but I wanted to know so badly.
    Then you stopped by the gate and pulled me to lean against
the wooden barrier. You snaked an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close.
I could have stopped you; we barely knew each other unless you counted about
thirty one-hour telephone calls. But I never. I let you pull me to your side,
tucked against your jacket. I let you because the moment you