Read Online Dare Truth Or Promise by Paula Boock - Free Book Online Page A

first time Louie saw that planes had white headlights shining from their undercarriage. She felt like a possum caught in their light. “Do you think he can see us?” she whispered. “The pilot, I mean?”
    Willa didn’t answer. The engines whirred ferociously, and the plane began to move forward. At her side, Willa’s hand found Louie’s, and they stood, frozen to the spot.
    At first it seemed incredibly slow, as if it were just rolling towards them, and Louie could make out people in the flight deck, dimly lit. Then suddenly the lights at the end of each wing flashed violently, wider and wider, and Louie could see for the first time the body of the plane, its bulk bearing down on them, rushing at them, huge wings outstretched. The sound was overwhelming, shrieking at them, blaring. Louie wanted to cover her ears, but she didn’t want to let go of Willa’s hand. She dug in her nails as the plane ate up the runway, murderous. Just as her legs began to dissolve, the white lights at the front lifted, and a blast of hot air and thunderous noise burst from under the aircraft. It screeched above them, its white body burning through the air and the surrounding blackness wobbling in its heat. The smell of burning rubber and exhaust filled Louies nostrils and mouth, which was open and screaming now, screaming for all she was worth.

    She was jumping too, jumping up, down and around, and then her arms were around Willa, squeezing her, still yelling and whooping, and Willa was yelling back. They leapt about in a circle for a bit before Louie realised that she actually had her arms round Willa,
embracing
her, and she decided not to let go.
    To let go would mean to wait until she had this good an excuse again, and she didn’t know when that might be. Louie couldn’t bear it anymore.
To hell with it,
she thought,
to hell with it.
They stopped jumping and turning, they stopped yelling, and Louie gripped on to Willa, hugged tighter even, and buried her head in her shoulder. Her heart was still thumping, and she could feel Willa’s too, like a bird’s belting against her ribcage.
    Then Willa’s arms moved, and Louie caught her breath in fear, terrified she would pull away. She didn’t. Her hand cupped Louie’s head, ran down the back of her hair, her neck, and lay cool and gentle under her collar. Her other arm moved lightly up her back and rested there. What a difference, the quality of the touch, the subtle shift in placement, that turned a hug into a hold. Louie wanted to cry, to weep with relief. She relaxed her wrestling grip and leaned into Willa, nuzzled her heavy hair, felt the soft skin under her ear, breathed in her smell.
    When Willa turned and kissed her, Louie thought in her head,
this is my first kiss.
It wasn’t, of course, she’d kissed a number of boys, and done more too, but she’d never, ever felt as if she were falling off a cliff. She’d never before felt as if her body were being turned to water from the inside out, or as if they were both whirling through space into an airless black vortex. Louie felt all these things, and above all, a disbelief, a wild, terrifying disbelief that this should be happening—no, not that she was in love with a girl, for it seemed suddenly absolutely natural that she should be in love with this girl—but that, god only knew how, this girl should love her back!

    It was Willa who finally pulled away, who said, looking at the ground, “Do I shock you?”
    Louie reached and touched her cheek, frowning and smiling together. “No, Willa. You don’t shock me.”
    Willa turned slightly away and sat on the ground. An icicle slid down Louie’s back.
Don’t turn away, not now, please.
    She crouched down beside Willa and looked beyond her into the invisible distance. “I didn’t think this could happen. This,” she said, gesturing like her father, palms upward, “—it just blows me away. I didn’t dare believe you might be feeling the same.”
    “Ohhh,” Willa groaned,