The Boy With the Cigarettes in his Pocket

5: The Cashier's Eyes

The early morning sun streams through the un-covered window and straight into my eyes. I stretch, letting out a slight moan sound.

"Good morning," Jamie mumbles in that super sexy morning voice boys have.

He reaches down and presses his lips gently against mine only for a moment.

"Morning!?" I cry in a sudden realisation.

"Yeah, it's sunny sure,"

"Shitshitshitshitshit!" I say, jumping out of bed and putting on my clothes.

"What's wrong?"

"My family!" I shriek, "They'll be up!"

Jamie, in his sleepy state, doesn't seem to get it. "What?"

"They won't know where I am! Oh my God, I didn't come back last night either! I'm so screwed!"

"Oh, I see. You'll have to climb out my window, I hear my brother in the kitchen."

"Okay," I reply as I begin to climb out the window. I can tell Jamie is putting on a carefree attitude to keep me calm.

"Wait," he says quickly and leans over to kiss me again. "Good luck!"

I jump down and grab my bike from where Jamie left it yesterday. I cycle back to my caravan as fast as I possibly can.

I can't describe how relieved I am when I see the curtains closed in my parent's bedroom window. I sneak round the back and climb in through the window as I've done before. I change quickly into new clothes and head into the kitchen to act as if I'm just up. I make myself scrambled eggs and wait for my family to wake up.

"And the dead arose and appeared to many," I say as my parents come out from their room.

"Why are you up so early?" Dad asks, "You were out late last night."

They weren't mad? This is a miracle! That or maybe they're planning something.

"Yeah I was with a friend," I answer.

"You made a friend?!" Mum says, suddenly interested.

"Yeah, Jamie,"

"Oh is she nice?" Mum questions.

"Yeah, she's really nice."

Mum obviously assumed Jamie was a girl. I wasn't going to correct her as I knew that if she discovered Jamie was a boy she'd be very strict on me, and certainly wouldn't let me stay out until all hours of the night.

Mum smiles at me, "That's good, dear. I'm glad you're happy."

I sigh gently when I realise I've gotten away with it. Maybe next time I mightn't be so lucky.

Next time.

Would there even be a next time? What happens now? To be honest, I've never had a boyfriend, so I'm not quite sure how these things work. I only know what I've been told in movies and books, which hasn't been helpful.

A smile forms on my face when I think about what happened last night. I'm even tempted to touch my lips to check if it was real. Goosebumps form on my arms as I think about how he held me tight around him in the pool and those subtle kisses on my forehead as I fell asleep. It was all just so... perfect. 

I try to think of the lead up to the kiss, but everything is just so hazy. I rub my head when I feel the sharp pang of a headache. Ah, that's right, the alcohol.

I had completely forgotten about it, my mind too focused on trying to not be killed by my parents. I must've distracted myself from actually feeling hungover. Admitedly, I don't feel that bad, maybe I'm just good at coping with hangovers - not that I've ever experienced one before