Free Fake by Beck Nicholas

asks.
    â€˜No.’
    He hasn’t answered my invitation-question and I’m not up to asking it again – no matter how much red lipstick I’m wearing.
    We walk on in silence toward the school gates. It’s easy, it’s comfortable and despite the fact that the breeze has picked up and I’ve lost all the feeling in my legs again, I’m happy to be here with Sebastian.
    Leaves swirl around our feet and a plastic rubbish bag overflowing from the bin is picked up and flies away into the heavy sky. I turn my head to follow its path until it’s a white speck in the distance. At my side, Sebastian does the same.
    My phone buzzes again at the gates.
    â€˜Are you sure you don’t want to get that?’ There’s that look again. The 404 puzzled look, like I’m not computing as he’d expect.
    â€˜It will be Chay.’
    He nods. ‘Checking to make sure the plan worked and you followed orders.’
    I bristle under the implication. ‘She does a lot for me too you know.’
    He holds his hands up in surrender. ‘I didn’t say otherwise.’ He starts walking again. Toward my house. ‘Aren’t you coming?’
    I’m not sure how to answer. Yes, that is the way I would go but the leap of my heart hopes there’s more to the question. Which is stupid because after my spectacular fail with Joel I should be steering clear of all boys. Especially mysterious boys completely out of my league, who happen to be the brother of the girl I’m setting up to be dumped by a fake guy on the net.
    But he’s so Sebastian and I can’t resist. ‘With you?’
    There’s a shyness to his smile now. ‘I have to work this afternoon but I thought maybe I could walk you home first.’
    I clench my jaw to keep it from dropping open.
    â€˜If you want,’ he adds when I stand there stunned and silent. ‘It’s on my way to work.’
    â€˜Great. That would be great.’
    Great is so nowhere near the explosion of joy doing a breakdance inside me but even I know it’s not cool to launch into a twirl in front of a boy who’s walking you home.
    In my excitement two of my books slip from my hands. Sebastian leans over and picks them up. I’m relieved – I’d probably end up face first on the ground if I tried to bend over in these shoes.
    â€˜You want to write movies, huh?’
    I take back the book on screenwriting I grabbed on my way out the library and shove it away. ‘No. Maybe. I probably won’t even get a chance to read it.’ That’s not true. Although I picked it up on a whim, I’m looking forward to reading it, but acting on my interest in making stories is so new and private. I’m not ready to own it, and not to this boy. ‘Anyway, how did you know that’s what it was about?’
    The book is pretty nondescript, with a picture of a cat on the front.
    â€˜Lana has it.’
    Of course she does. The flare of interest I had in the subject dies down beneath the realisation that we might have something in common.
    I don’t want to be anything like that girl.
    As I fall into step beside him again I’m thinking. Overthinking, Chay would say.
    Is him being here something more than that he happens to be walking near my place? Is it a response to my almost-invite from earlier? Is it a coincidence? How does he even know where I live?
    The questions bounce inside my brain wanting to get out.
    It only takes one block of me searching for something – anything – to say before one of them escapes.
    â€˜How do you know where I live?’ It’s a fair enough question. I think.
    His electric blue shoes kick at a stone and it rolls away down the street. ‘Your mum is the hairdresser, right?’
    â€˜The only one in town.’
    He adjusts his duffel on his shoulder. ‘My sister has been there a few times since we moved here. She might have mentioned it was a