Adelaide

"So I met your brother yesterday," I tell Justin as we head to English class. It's the first time I've seen him since Halloween and I've gotta say, he's changed. First of all, his hair is longer, the ashen blond tips nearly touching his shoulders, and the bangs are in a messy side sweep. He's gotten skinner, too. The T-shirt he's wearing hangs as loose as a tarp over his frame.

I watch Justin visibly cringe. "Yeah," he remarks, rubbing his arm. "Sorry about that – Chris is a little standoffish with strangers."

Though it was weird as weird can be, I don't delve deeper into it. What happened, happened, and I'm not going to obsess over it. "It's okay," I shrug, picking at a loose purple thread in my knitted sweater. "At least you got the papers and were able to do the majority of the homework. I would have felt bad if Chris had gone upstairs to wake you up – sleep is the best medicine when you're sick."

Justin stops, sighing deeply. I stop and look into his blue eyes that are full of defeat.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"I was awake," he concedes. "I'd just gotten out of the shower and came downstairs seconds after the door shut."

A crease forms between my eyebrows. "Why – why would Chris do that? Lie?" The questions spill out of my mouth before I have the chance to withhold them. Crap. It isn't my place to ask Justin such personal questions about him or family members. I know his parents went through a nasty divorce and that Chris has to go back and forth, but Justin voluntarily told me these things. I feel like an intrusive jerk. "You don't have to answer that. It's not fair of me to question your brother's motives."

Justin shrugs my words off. "Nah," he replies. "It's fine. Chris resents me a little for having the option of staying home with Mom." As the words spill from his mouth, I notice this glazed, haunted look that saturates his eyes, and I suddenly have this strong impression that there's more to the story. "We don't get along like we used to. We fight and argue and things sometimes get out of hand. Chris likes to dig deep when getting his revenge..."

Justin trails off and blatantly stares at the waxed floor.

I stare at him.

There's something off about Justin today; he's not his usual happy self that makes me smile and laugh. It's like a dark cloud has settled over him, letting the ran pour and soak him to the bone. The sparkle in his eyes is gone.

It makes my heart hurt. I want him to be happy.

Shaking his head so that strands of hair fall in his face, Justin looks up and smiles at me. "That's enough about Chris," he says. "How was your weekend?"

Though I want to know more, have him confide in me and tell me about what's bothering him, I'm scared. What if he takes offense to my actions? And, let's be perfectly honest here, though I have this inner desire to be there for him, I'm terrible at talking to people. I get nervous and say the wrong thing. I become a mess.

"It was the same old thing," I reply. "Work, homework, hockey games, Sunday family dinner. The usual routine."

Justin adjusts his backpack as we continue our journey to class. "That sounds like fun."

I snort. "Anything is better than being sick. How are you feeling now, by the way?"

"Better," he confirms. Then, with a grin on his face, he adds, "I'm not camping beside the toilet anymore."

"That's true," I giggle, bumping my shoulder against his.

He grins, bashfully.

I like this; I like that we're able to joke about and laugh at ourselves about embarrassing stuff like this. Sophia and the girls would never make a joke about themselves if they were sick.

"So," he continues. "What's it like working in a restaurant?"

I ponder his question. Personally, I love working at the restaurant because it's family-owned and most of the shifts I cover either involve interaction with my parents, my brothers, or Sophia. Sometimes Aunty Elle even picks up a couple shifts – but that's only when she's not travelling province to province with her job like grandpa used to.

But there are downsides to it. For example, some people can be indescribably rude. Also, the kitchen is like a well-oiled machine; if one part glitches, then so does the rest of the machine.

"I like it, but there are some parts I dislike," I eventually conclude. "I love being around my family; doing something that we can all contribute to. But I hate how people have the nerve to be rude. Like, just this past weekend, someone asked us why we don't heat up our plates before serving the food. I hate having to be nice to them. I wanted to make a sarcastic remark – something I believe had to do with what would happen to our ice-cream-based desserts if we did that. But I had to bite my tongue."

Justin laughs – a full-on belly laugh. "Are you serious? Someone asked about plates being warmed up? What, did they want to eat the plate, too?"

"Who knows?" I joke. "Maybe they had a craving for ceramics."

"Yeah," he snorts. "I wonder what kind. Porcelain, glazed earthenware, stoneware, or bone china."

"Probably porcelain. What kind of person asks for plates to be warmed?"

"A snob?" he jokes.

We both burst out laughing. People in the hallway are staring at us, but we don't care. We're having fun, we're happy, and that's all that counts. Besides, I feel like Justin needs to laugh after the crappy weekend he had.

Which is probably why the next words come out before I have the common sense to think before speaking. "Do you want to go out on a date with me?"

I don't necessarily regret the words, but I wish I wouldn't have been so abrupt with them.

I drop my face into my free hand. "I'm sorry," I groan. "I'm being too forward. Should've broken the ice a little more. It's just that kiss on Halloween..." I stop walking and roll my eyes, wanting to melt into rusted grey metal and blend in with the lockers that line the freaking hallway. "I'm messing this up."

Justin stops beside me and intently stares at me, a look I can't read in his eyes. Have I scared him? Does he think I'm crazy and that I've looked too much into the kiss we shared?

I hate how questions continue to nag at me.

The longer we stand here, staring at each other, the stronger the burn in my cheeks becomes. I wish Sophia or Nadira or Jacey would come walking down the hallway and call out my name. I wish I could sink into a puddle of nothingness.

"Addie," Justin says softly.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Boys only use that tone of voice when they want to let a girl down slowly. "I'm sorry," I say, shaking my head. "I'm so sorry."

"Addie."

I sigh. "Seriously. I don't know why I said that. I'm kind of like my dad that way – I just blurt out whatever comes to mind first. I –"

"Addie."

I shut up, looking at Justin.

He's desperately trying to fight off a grin.

Hesitantly, he reaches out and laces his fingers with mine. As soon as our skin touches, my veins feel as though they've been ignited with a single spark. Screw people who compare touch to electricity. It's nothing like electricity. It's hot and fiery and smouldering.

I blush.

Justin's smile broadens. "I'd like to see what your family's restaurant is like. Do you think we could go there? I know it might be boring for you, but..." He trails off with a shrug.

"Are you kidding?" I smile, gripping his hand. "I'm not some girl that wants to go somewhere fancy – my family's restaurant is perfect. Good food, good vibe, and awesome people."

"This Saturday?" Justin asks.

The smile almost falls from my face because I have to work on Saturday, but then I remember I'm only working until five. "Want to meet at 5:30?" I ask. "I work, so I'll already be there. I can give you the address and stuff if you don't know where it is."

He nods, squeezing my hand. "That sounds great."

"Great," I smile, looking at our intertwined fingers. His hand is warm and smooth against mine. Comforting.

My chest bubbles up with happiness.

Me and Justin.

Justin and I.

With one more shared smile, we continue to walk to class, both of us new to this whole "dating" concept. It's a little overwhelming for me – I've never felt like this about someone before. Ever. I'm scared I'm going to mess it up somehow, say something that takes an offensive point, or simply annoy him. All this second-guessing of myself is torture, and though I hope Justin doesn't feel any of this, I also want him to. At least I wouldn't be alone; the only one engulfed by anxiety and fear of what the future holds.

Out of curiosity, I glance at him. He's focused on the classroom ahead of us and is chewing on his thumbnail. With the sideview of his defined face, I can see what I believe to be a look of deep thinking. His eyebrows are furrowed, his posture is tense, and his jaw is grinding.

But there's one tiny detail that prevents me from asking.

The sparkle in his eyes is back. It's not as bright as it was on Halloween, but it's still there. Dim. Like the sun trying to break through a thick layer of clouds.

So, wanting to not ruin that sparkle, I stay quiet and step a little closer to him as we walk, hand-in-hand. I'm close enough that our arms are pressed together and our shoulders are brushing.

Once we're settled in our seats in English class, my mind wanders to Saturday. I'm excited. I really am, but I also don't know the first thing about "dating". I've never had a boyfriend. I've never been on a date.

Last time I checked, I'm a total introvert that has the tendency to repel people due to my lack of social skill. My circle of friends is small. I've never been keen on having a boyfriend (until now). I mainly hang out with my family, which holds the concept of familiarity.

A pinch of anxiety infects me.

I'm going to need some serious help – tips, advice, and all that type of crap – if I'm going to get through this date without screwing it up.

And, thankfully, I have two people I know I can count on.

Mom and Aunty Elle.