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"Hey, Gail..."
"Uh-huh?" I asked as I quickly and efficiently smashed the buttons of my game controller, advancing my player through the game and kicking some serious butt. The sound effects and background music emanated softly from the television, volume on low so that Holly could read in relative peace.
Except she wasn't reading now. Putting her textbook down, she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and turned to face me.
Her long legs were stretched out in front of her, tongue poking out to lick her bottom lip as she gazed at me thoughtfully. Feeling her scrutiny without even looking at her, I decided to pause the game, feeling a little self-conscious.
"What?" I asked. I faced her, pulling my feet up and sitting cross-legged on the couch. Now we were two lonely islands on either sides of the couch. I saw her grin a little and so I grinned a little back, before narrowing my eyes. "No, seriously, Hols. What's up?"
I could tell by Holly's voice before that something was up. Otherwise she would've just kicked me to get my attention instead of saying my name. And she certainly wouldn't have been worrying her bottom lip in between her teeth or had her brows creased had everything been fine and dandy.
Even though I was only seventeen, I'd been trained to be a cop since before I could even remember. I was a Peck, and Pecks were cops. Therefore I was a cop. There was no other choice.
So that, plus the fact that we've known each other since before we had even gained the ability to walk or eat solid foods, meant I easily picked up on the hint of nerves in her voice.
I took her in curiously. After another moment of patient silence between us — I could see Holly had to get something off her chest, so I sat and waited — I saw her features smooth over and a tiny, minuscule smile lift the corner of her mouth.
Then she said:
"I think I'm gay."
I didn't respond. At least, not straight away. I sat still for a moment, comprehending how that was not what I expected to come out of her mouth, but obviously Holly mistook it for something else because her smile dropped and her hands started moving in front of her as she tried to explain.
"I mean, I'm pretty sure," she said quickly, "that I like girls. I figured it out maybe a month ago?" She shook her head, pushed her glasses up again and licked her lips. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I just wanted to make sure, you know, before I just started telling people. And anyway, you're the first person I've told, because you're my best friend, and we tell each other things, right? That's what's so great, is our friendship, and I guess I just wanted to let you know, and hope you're okay with it. Because if you weren't, things might get a little awkward…"
Holly laughed at herself self-consciously, while I just looked at her, wanting her to stop talking. During the pause, I finally got my chance to interrupt. "Why are you saying all of these words?"
Gaping at me, Holly looked at me with wide eyes.
I shook my head at her, then reached over and pushed her legs off the couch with my hands. She let me, still confused. With couch space reclaimed, I crawled towards her and sat next to her, making sure she was looking at me.
"You're still the same Lunchbox I know and love, right?"
Holly nodded dumbly. Satisfied, I grabbed my game controller and hit play, leaning my head on on her shoulder even though it was mildly uncomfortable and continued playing.
"Then I don't care if you like girls. I mean, I hate people."
It didn't really make sense, but then again, when did my words ever? Thankfully though, Holly was used to me, and so finally let out a laugh. I could feel her taut body relax and felt the press of her lips on the top of my head.
Knowing she couldn't see me as I faced the television, I smiled.
*
Holly's dad got her a motorbike for her eighteenth birthday.
I was never much of a car or bike person, so I couldn't tell you much about it. (I was, however, quite knowledgeable about weapons.) All I knew was that Holly, my best friend that carried her own lunch box to school everyday, looked really hot on it.
Which shouldn't even be a thing, right? Wasn't it just yesterday that Holly was an awkward, lanky and nerdy teen like I was? (Except I wasn't a nerd, even though I think Star Wars is so cool.) Glasses-wearing Holly Stewart with her love for science, nerdiness and penchant for rambling shouldn't have some secret motorbike passion, leather jacket and be wearing those aviators with that smirk on her face.
It made me feel things.
Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I walked out of my front door and down the steps to meet Holly, who was leaning against her bike on my parent's driveway. She had texted me just a minute ago saying she could give me a ride to school, and curious, I came down.
Immediately, I shook my head at her.
"No," I said, through my mouthful of breakfast. Which, today, was a donut I had grabbed off the counter.
"Good morning to you too," Holly said, grinning as she straightened up. I came to stand next to her and we both looked at the bike. Holly, I imagine, somewhat proudly, while I looked at the death trap I'm sure it was.
"Do you even know how to use that thing?" I asked sceptically. "Are you even allowed to use that thing?" I took another bite of my donut, then I made a face. It was kind of stale, but that didn't stop me from eating it.
Holly laughed. "Fully licensed motorbike driver right here. So, do you want to ride?" She climbed on and patted the seat behind her, dangling an extra helmet in her hands.
"Not particularly." I finished my donut then wiped the crumbs off on my jeans. "But I already let my dad go to work and I do not want to use a bus, so fine. I just hope you know how predictable this is."
I climbed on, adjusted the helmet on my head then put my arms around Holly. I could feel her rib cage expand as she breathed in. The wind was cold and chilly as it whipped by us, but Holly was warm.
When we got to school and she removed her helmet, shaking her hair out, I got mad at her for being so effortlessly attractive all the time.
"Ugh, it's so unfair," I grumbled, taking off my own helmet.
"What?" she asked, pausing.
"You. Looking so hot all the time." I saw her eyes widen imperceptibly. "You should stop." I turned to walk off without her, not knowing why I had said that. After a moment, I felt her jog to catch up with me.
"And make you feel better about yourself? No way."
"You used to look like a nerd," I bemoaned. "I miss those days."
Holly grinned. She reached into her pocket and withdrew her normal glasses, replacing the aviators of her face. While I watched, she removed her leather jacket too.
"There. Better?" she asked.
I stole the leather jacket from her hands and shrugged it on myself. Then I nodded at her, my suitably nerdy-looking Holly Stewart. "Better."
I didn't give her jacket back, and she never asked me to return it. But she did smile at me whenever I came out of the house wearing it. Which, whatever. I only wore it because it was cold.
