"Where are you going?"

I thought that handing Ethan the small cooler bag I brought the second we left class for break time would fulfil my girlfriend duties for now.

I have, however, only taken a couple of steps towards the big oak tree - where I often spend break time reading when Delia is not around - when the boyfriend in this equation stops me from leaving. I'm startled when he suddenly grabs my arm, anchoring me mid-step, forcing me to reluctantly lower the foot I was going to take another step with.

"Delia has hockey practice," I explain, turning around and looking up into his blue eyes. "I'm going to relax and read my book." I wave the novel in the air to add some visual aid to my words in case Ethan doesn't understand what reading a book means.

Delia often has hockey practice during break time or gym periods because the teacher coaching their team cannot always stay after school. She does at least end the practice before the break is over to allow them a few minutes to gobble their food. It still doesn't seem fair to deprive them of their relaxation time. Well, at least Dell gets to do what she wants after school then.

"You're not going to come sit with me?" Ethan asks, and he really seems to be sad about that. Why would he be? He hangs out with an entire crowd of people the size of the population of a small country, and most of them are his close friends. He certainly won't be lonely. "Come," he coaxes, smiling at me. "You can read there too."

Reading in company seems like a rude thing to do.

"Burlap is almost always reading," he points out, answering my unvoiced concern. "And Lisa and Joanie act as though they're in a hair salon. Nobody cares. It's about being together, not about what any of us are doing while we're together."

I turn to look at where his friends are already gathering on the shady terraces near the rugby field and swallow nervously. I am not good with large gatherings. I prefer humans in small, digestible portions. I barely know half of those people. Nothing about this is appealing to me, and I suppose my face is telling Ethan exactly that because he sighs and pats me on the head.

"Okay, I get it. You want to be alone," he smiles when I look at him again. "I'll see you later then. Thanks for lunch."

I watch him stroll away from me, and a strange sensation very close to panic seizes my heart in a vice-like grip. I've felt this before when he was walking away from me after that rugby match. Ethan is one of the most self-sufficient people that I know. He never seems to really need anything or anybody. He makes do, he makes plans, he adjusts, and if he can't do any of those, he conquers. There is absolutely nothing lost or vulnerable about him, and yet, looking at him walking away from me, I'm caught in the grip of overwhelming sadness... again!

Spurring myself into action, I jog to catch up with him, slipping my hand into his.

"I've changed my mind," I smile when he looks down at me, surprised and also a little baffled. I wrap my free arm around his and lean my head against his bicep. What am I doing?! Seriously, this body I woke up trapped in is doing whatever it wants to do! "Besides, my lunch is in there too..."

When we reach his friends, Ethan makes himself comfortable, sitting down against the base of a gnarly old tree. He pats the ground between his pulled-up knees when I remain standing, still highly uncertain of my welcome and not sure what I should do with myself. It is this bewilderment, combined with the fact that I no longer have any say about how my body should behave, that causes me to docilely sit down, with my back resting against his stomach.

Oh, my soul! This is so not on!

I'm turning into one of those girls who drape themselves over their boyfriends every chance they get! Carefully crossing my legs, making certain that my skirt covers everything I need to have covered, I sit up with my back ramrod straight and cautiously steal glances at the people around us.

Lisa is indeed doing Joanie's hair, and James is lounging with his back against the same tree as Ethan, reading his book. There are a couple of other students reading or doing homework, but the majority are eating and chatting about movies, rugby and TV shows I know nothing about. Unfortunately, I also catch a couple of venomous looks glaring my way and can still feel those eyes burning into me when I open my book and try to read it.

So far, nobody has asked what the hell I'm doing here; they all seem to take it in their stride, except for the three girls who seem to be plotting my murder... not together, though; I don't think they want to share Ethan with each other either.

I gasp in surprise when Ethan sits up straight, leans forward and pulls me towards him, unceremoniously sliding me over the ground until my back is snug against his stomach again. "What are you doing?" I ask, turning enough to see at least parts of his face. He just shrugs, grins and takes a bite from his sandwich. "I'll get splinters in my bum if you do that."

"That's what she said," Jet chortles, and I frown at him, really not sure what he is trying to say, but some of the other people are grinning and sniggering, clearly getting a joke that's gone right over my head.

"Seriously, Kira!" Wendy Dawson, also known as the creeping vine from the rugby match, snaps. She's not one of the girls openly glaring at me, but she certainly does not seem to be happy about me sprouting from the ground between Ethan's knees. "How can you be such a prude with a yummy boyfriend like Ethan? I can assure you, Ethe, if you were mine, you wouldn't have to beg for affection like that."

I tense, suddenly very uncomfortable under all the eyes turned to look at us. I'm only vaguely aware of Ethan resting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. It's that warm hand that spurs me into speech.

"I'm not a prude," I say, my mind filling with upsetting memories of Cole calling me exactly that and a few worse things. "I just think that some things are just between Ethan and me... it's not public... We've only just started dating; it's all new to me. I'd rather ease into things calmly... with a plan."

What on Earth is this mouth of mine saying?! I don't want to ease into anything! There's nothing non-public between Ethan and me except for the reasons why we're dating. Still, the words pouring from my lips feel like the truth. I think I mean them!

"Yeah," Ethan says, wrapping his arms around me again. "She's right; most of the things I want to do with her can't be done in public because we'll get arrested."

"Get off me, you big oaf!" I growl, turning to push Ethan away, and he is laughing at me, enjoying his silly joke.

"You are so cute when your eyes spark like that," he grins and plants a kiss smack on my lips.

"Gross!" I sulk, rubbing the back of my hand over my mouth, making him laugh even more, while he rubs his knuckles over my head hard enough to hurt a little, messing up my neatly tied hair.

"Stop it! Don't touch me!" I grunt, grabbing his hand to bite him.

"Ow!" he laughs, and yanking his hand free, he starts to do my least favourite activity, tickling me.

"Ethan! I swear I'm going to pee on you!"

I'm startled back to the present and our current situation when Tonia giggles near us, reminding me that we're not alone. When I relax the stranglehold I have on his collar, Ethan stops tickling me and feeling rather embarrassed about my highly undignified actions; I turn to sit primly with my back to him again as if I wasn't just involved in a minor brawl.

"I agree with Kicks," Ethan says, leaning back against the tree, taking another sandwich from the lunchbox I packed for him. "Some things are just between the two of us. I'm all for taking it slow. I want this to last."

He traces my spine with the tip of a finger, making me shiver involuntarily. I'm suddenly feeling a little light-headed now. He is just selling it, trying to protect me from being mocked and bullied... right? There are too many smiles (surprisingly, Wendy's included) and raised eyebrows, and thoughtful looks heading our way now, so I do the most logical thing I can think of: I pick up the book I dropped during our scuffle and bury my face in its pages.

I'm relieved when the conversations and activities return to normal, and I'm soon enjoying a wild journey over a stormy ocean to land at an ancient village in a country I'm pretty sure one will never find on any map.

The pirate who knows stuff is using that useless stuff to distract a guard, but the only person he is distracting and utterly confusing is himself. Meanwhile, his pretty and feisty second-in-command is running the risk of breaking her ribs while shaking her booty in order to distract the other guard if the pirate doesn't hurry up and finish his task soon.

I'm worrying about the world forever being deprived of Olivetta's generous curves when I become the one who is distracted. A hand is gently stroking my head, but that stroking is starting to feel less and less loving and more and more filled with purpose.

"Ethan, what are you doing?"

"I'm being affectionate."

"Are you cleaning your hands on my hair?"

"No, I'm being affectionate..."

"You're cleaning your hands on my hair, aren't you?!"

"Well, you didn't bring any serviettes," the beast chuckles.

"Seriously, I'm not making your lunch again if I'm just going to end up wearing it in my hair."

"Whoa! It's not like I'm sticking pickles and leftover corned beef up there! It's just a few crumbs... and stuff."

"Oh, well, in that case..." Turning around, I reach up and brush my hands all over Ethan's head, really messing it up well. I'm rather liking the feel of his thick blond hair between my fingers. Laughing, he grabs my wrists and pulls me against his chest, pushing my arms behind my back to prevent me from molesting his head.

"Yeah," Barn laughs, a deep roaring laugh from the core of his stomach. "I can see why some things really should just happen when the two of you are alone."

"Again?!" I glare at Ethan, scurrying out of his grasp and desperate to regain my dignity; I would've also moved to a seat far away from him if he wasn't holding me in place between his knees.

"I've been thinking of getting this book," James says, drawing my glare away from Ethan to direct it at him. I quickly change my expression into a friendly one when he hurriedly tries to give me the book he'd picked up.

"It is really good," I tell him. "I'm enjoying it so much; I'm definitely going to get the next one in the series when I get my next allowance."

"I really liked a couple of his other books, though I've only ever read them on WattPad," James says, happy to be able to hold onto the book a couple of minutes longer. "But Cordless reviewed this on the radio yesterday and said it's quite dry and bland."

Cordless is a foul-mouthed, irreverent radio presenter who happens to play the best music, which is the only reason I ever tune into his program. He knows nothing about literature but still thinks he has the right to judge other people's work.

Besides, I know the writer of this book (and so does James), so I did not take kindly to Cordless's unfair criticism. Dex's books are anything but bland and dry. They are quirky, colourful, and highly entertaining.

"He describes any book as dry and bland if there are no swear words in the first line, followed by a pornographic scene and cover-to-cover smut for the rest of the book."

"True," James agrees, nodding his head slowly while paging through my book.

"Awesome! Sounds like my kind of book!" Jet grins, and we know that he means the kind I described and not the one James is holding in his hands. "Does it have pictures?"

"Does a book I just made up have pictures?" I ask, not sure how to answer that question.

"This one does, and they're really good," James answers, and Jet crawls closer to look at the illustrations. There aren't many, and they are done in an artistic design style, beautiful but very different from the gorgeous, stormy, brush-stroke-rich painting on the cover. Ethan's cousin did the painting used on the cover.

"Those are not the kind of pictures I want," Jet says and then his face lights up, and I know James has just paged to the image of semi-nude mermaids sunbathing on rocks, luring ships to their destruction. "Way to go, Kira! You brought porn to school. You've got a keeper there, Ethe!"

"Yeah, I know," Ethan mutters, but I don't think he knows what Jet is going on about. He has finished his lunch - and almost half of mine - and is leaning forward with his forearms on his pulled-up knees and his head on my shoulder. I think he is in the process of falling asleep.

"You can borrow it when I'm done," I tell James when he hands the book back to me.

"Awesome, thanks," he grins, picking up his own book again to search for his place.

When the bell rings, and I want to rise with the others, I realise that Ethan is leaning quite heavily on my back and shoulder. I didn't notice because I'd been completely lost in the story I was reading. I'm noticing it now, and it is a little strange.

"Ethy," I say, and when he doesn't move, I say his name a little louder. It takes James patting his back and calling his name to rouse him from his deep sleep.

"Hey," he yawns and, lifting his weight off of my back, he stretches luxuriously. "Thanks for the nap, Kicks."

"No problem, you're so much easier to deal with when you're asleep," I grin, taking the hand he offers me once he's on his feet and wants to pull me up.

"Do you have some gum?" he asks, and when I take the tiny tin filled with my cut-up pieces of sugar-free gum from the pocket of my school skirt, he opens it and helps himself to a few of them. Honestly, I cut them to last longer. It's pointless when he gets involved.

We gather our lunchboxes into the cooler bag and follow the others to the stone steps leading up to the classrooms. Ethan stops me after we've only climbed a couple of steps.

"What do their messages say?"

For a second, I'm not sure whether he is referring to the characters in the book I'm reading or something he'd dreamed about while he was drooling on my shoulder. "I mean, they can't just say hello, goodnight... and boring sh#t like that, right? They're always messaging each other. They must have stuff to say. What kind of stuff?"

Oh, my soul! He means Delia and Simon!

"I don't know," I frown. "Why does it matter?"

"I need reference material. Will you take a look?"

"You want me to read their messages?!"

"Yeah."

"Do you have any idea how twisted that is?" I ask, blinking at him in horror.

"Why?"

Really?! Why?

"Why don't you read them?"

"Because I cannot unread them," he says in a tone of voice that tells me that he thinks he's being logical. He's not, though. "I just want the gist of it. What it's about. If it's sexy stuff, I really don't want any details."

"Did I give you a concussion when I hit you in the head with my book earlier?"

"Probably," he shrugs. "Will you do it for me?"

"Ethan, you're nuts!"

"How else am I supposed to learn?" he asks, and I think he really means it. "You're my tutor; you need to gather information and then put it in my head."

I've had enough of this weird conversation, so I slip out of his grasp and run up the steps.

"Kicks! Kicks!"

Making a couple of fast turns between the buildings, I duck into the first girls' bathroom I can find. I really need to get away from Mr Weird! I also need to see if I can save my messed-up hair without a brush.

♂♀