Here Without You Read Online Free PDF Page B

flashing mischief. ‘Sure. Where to? Paris? Madrid? It’s summer in Melbourne, you know.’
    I’m so not used to these surreal sorts of conversations. I know he’s playing along with my apprehension, giving me an out he knows I won’t take, but if my request was serious, none of these are impossible destinations. A couple of days ago, he asked me about my birthday, which is a month away. In a humorous attempt at subtlety, he brought up cars a half-hour later, quizzing me about transmission types and favourite colours.
    Not quite believing he was seriously considering such an outrageous gift, I mentioned that I won’t need a car at Cal. ‘Hmm, yeah,’ he said, preoccupied with a video game. I thought that was the end of it until later, sitting at his kitchen table, he asked me how I intended to get around in Berkeley without a car.
    ‘Awesome public transportation. And I’m taking my bike.’
    He paused, a forkful of pasta halfway between his plate and his mouth. ‘A bike, as in a bicycle?’
    I laughed. ‘No – the other kind of bike. I’m actually a closet Hell’s Angel. Wanna go for a spin on my Harley?’
    I squeaked when he pulled me from my chair on to his lap.
    Hands gripping my waist, he bowed his mouth to my ear and breathed, ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’ And then his father strode into the kitchen, announcing his presence by clattering dishes on to the butcher-block island while feigning ignorance of our PDA-laden presence at the table.
    Now, I tap a finger against my chin and pretend to consider running away from home to
Melbourne
. If only. ‘I guess I should pack my swimsuit.’
    ‘Mmm. Better and better. Do you own a bikini?’
    ‘Well, no.’
    That single dimple appears at the edge of his lopsided smile. ‘Then I guess we have some shopping to do first.’ He lowers his mouth to mine just as my dad – who refuses to
pretend he doesn’t see us – emerges from the hallway to his study and clears his throat.
    ‘Well,
that
went well.’ Sarcasm is a favourite line of defence for Reid.
    I knew Mom and Dad might be inflexible. I couldn’t very well expect them to feign delight when they’re so opposed to the notion of Reid and me together, but I never thought they’d be openly prejudicial. My altruistic parents urged their daughters to reject racism, bigotry and intolerance, and our entire lives, Deb and I learned by following their examples. Now I’m facing the fact that theirbroad-mindedness only exists so long as the individuals aren’t famous and affluent.
    I’m afraid to look up at him – to see how he’s dealing with the short, denigrating interview my parents just put him through. He seems remarkably unperturbed by what they said and how they said it – more so than I am. I’m livid and embarrassed.
    ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would be that … unpleasant.’
    He chuckles. ‘Unpleasant, huh?’
    ‘Understatement?’
    ‘A bit, yeah.’
    My parents have gone to their room, leaving the brightly lit living room to us. The soft mumble of their voices signals their open door at the top of the staircase – an unspoken edict that Reid is not to set foot on the stairs, let alone into my bedroom.
    They weren’t this watchful four years ago, when I was dating Colin, who pretended to be trustworthy and decent, not that I blame them for failing to see through his façade. I just wish they could understand that one of the things I respect about Reid is – oddly enough – the fact that he’s honest about who he is and what he wants, no matter what it is. I guess that’s why I believe him when he says he wants me. When he says he loves me.
    ‘Hey.’ He bumps my knee with his, and then turns to draw my legs over his and pull me closer. ‘You okay?’
    ‘Are you?’
    He half-smiles. ‘C’mon now. You don’t think I’d let a little parental reproach stand in my way, do you? You know mebetter than that. I
live
for disapproval. It’s expected of me. My fans would think I was dying