Chapter 3 Crossed looks

Her face broke into a mischievous smile. An expression that she had more than once she had given to that surly boy whom she considered her "better half". Something that went beyond the simple meaning that she had given to the phrase. With her nearly seventeen years old and her carefree teenage life, she had nothing to worry about except the priority of living.

It was the middle of summer and it was not three weeks since she had started the holiday season. A quiet period, although her school life could not be considered the most problematic or stressful either. She wasn't the most popular girl in school, but she wasn't a potential "book-eater" either. As a good person, she had learned to live on the sidelines of everything. Without being more, or appearing less.

As of March, almost as soon as she started her third-to-last semester of high school, she was transferred to group "C" - initially by mere clerical error - and it was there that she met Luke. After a couple of months of concise and brief coexistence, a couple of disinterested outings on the part of the boy (disinterested because knowing his character, she did not care), and without any relevant facts, they started dating as a couple.

No, her life did not take a 180-degree turn, nor did she become the envy of the rest of the female student population. Things had changed, yes, but not enough to make a fuss worthy of being published in the school newspaper. She considered Luke as one of the most attractive boys in school, but from that to being an Idol-like those in those television series, there was a huge difference. And then he wasn't exactly a caramel apple; He had a sullen character, a changing mood (sometimes almost bipolar), and a peculiar way of showing his affection through his typical monosyllables, that if he had given himself to the task of making a dictionary all those expressions of "hmpt" would have a Unique meaning translated into "As you like".

But she liked it, as she used to explain to her friends; there was an "I don't know what" that she saw in him. In addition to the reluctant and opinionated phrase of "it doesn't matter, I know it will change. I will make it change." Of course, as the days and months went by, she began to take for granted, like any dreaming girl, that the phrase and the attempt to change a man always descended into what it was: an attempt and nothing more. But he didn't care about her, at least not for now.

It was a Friday night and he had invited her to see a movie at her house. That of course was a mutually accepted excuse. The sexual act had been on her mind from the beginning. She had been dating Luke more or less as her girlfriend since October of this year (now it was June) and they had only been lovers for two weeks.

Seven times, she counted. That night had been the seventh and she still hadn't seen fireworks or heard a marching band, but it had turned out a little better. The first time she felt hellish pain. Her friends, Yanai and Karen had done it, and both assured her that it only hurt for a minute - like a penicillin injection - and that after that it was like being in heaven. However, for her, the first time she had had the sensation of being pierced with the handle of roast beef. Later, Luke confessed to her, with a slightly guilty expression, that he had also misused the condom.

Last night was the second time that he had started to feel something like pleasure and, at that moment, it was all over. Luke had held on as long as he could but suddenly ... it was just all over. It felt like too much friction to feel just a certain heat.

But she loved him, no matter how unexpressive he was. And she loved him not so much because of the renown of his last name or because of her bearing, but because he, that seemingly disinterested boy, had given him her first kiss. And just over a month ago, he had become the first man in his life; the one to whom she had given her virginity.

She got up slowly, feeling the slight creak of the bed. She stood silently just staring into the void and giving her body time to stretch. She walked to the dresser near the door; on it were laid carelessly her clothes, hers and hers; as mute witnesses to the red-hot mood of the night before. He took her blouse - a sleeveless white garment - and put it on, not caring about the fact that she wasn't wearing her bra, her panties, and threadbare sweatpants that once used to be navy blue.

It was the first time that she had spent the entire night at Luke's house, and according to his comment the day before, there would be no one else except them and, if anything, Santino, his older brother. And that morning was spared the dilemma of "What will I wear?" (which, in the circumstances she had considered, boiled down to "What shall I take off?") and he took the first thing he found to her hand. In recent weeks, his limited "private sneaks" always ended at Luke's house, almost always in the afternoon, after (or during school hours, when he used to convince her to elope with him, of course), and no more than three hours, so this morning she was feeling particularly strange to be at his house at this time of day.

She left the room, leaving the door ajar, and went down to the kitchen; an area of neat white, which shone, standing out from the decoration of the room, because of the brightness of the rays of the sun that filtered across the length and width of the left window. The western-style sliding door was slid to the right. The echo of her footsteps on the soft stairs disappeared, under the sound of the low volume of the television.

She stopped dryly on the bottom step, her heart on a thread. What if Luke's parents had returned earlier than estimated?

Great, abruptly great, and more for the fact that she was wearing "house clothes", her hair tangled and the occasional mischief peeking out from the vertex of her sleepy eyes. What was she going to say?

"Good morning, sorry for the inconvenience of staying over, but the weekend sex session was exhausting"

A lie disguised as irony. It hadn't been the best experience of hers but at least she would consider it for the rest of the week.

She held her breath, paying attention to the echo of the electrical apparatus. The voices came from various channels taken at random, apparently "zapping" between the programming of the cable television system. She came down finally and decisively, and she leaned over the corner of the door. His eyes met only Santino's solitary silhouette, with his head resting between both hands and an unveiled gesture on his face, accentuating his dark circles a little more.

Her gaze crossed making a slight start in him.

Alexa noticed a faint glint in the young man's eyes, which became more accentuated when she smiled at him.