I stare into the almost empty refrigerator with little surprise. A browning lettuce; a drop of milk left in the bottle; some tomato sauce; and a few slices of processed cheese. If there’d been any bread, I could have scrounged together a cheese and tomato sauce sandwich. But no, my wonderful mother couldn’t possibly bother bringing home such an expensive item from the very supermarket she works for. That would involve thinking about her only child. Something she never wastes time on.

Slamming the fridge door, I lean against it and swallow the hurt. I should be used to my mother’s lack of interest, but it never fails to stab me right in the gut. Every. Single. Time.

Jeez.

Why I care about the woman is beyond me. But I do, and I hate myself for it.

Although this year hasn’t been anywhere near as bad. For the first time in my life I’ve had someone else to focus on. Someone who makes me smile. Someone who makes me feel like I exist. Someone who makes me feel like I matter.

Carl Lockhart.

Yum.

That is, without a doubt, the best word for him.

Bringing Carl into my life is about the only thing I can give my mostly absent mother credit for.

Totally out of the blue, Jessica brought him home one afternoon.

The moment I locked eyes with him, I felt a deep connection. Back then, I’d never been interested in boys. My number one priority had been studying and trying my hardest to stay in the top five percent at school. So I could get the hell away from my mother as soon as I finished my education. Not that boys were interested in me, either. The only exposure to love and attraction I’d experienced were through movies and the constant stream of books I read.

The instant Carl’s eyes met mine, everything changed. It was like a moment right out of those movies I liked to watch. I could almost hear the music rise as we realised, without saying a word, that we’d just laid eyes on our soul mate.

Of course, just like in the movies, we couldn’t run to each other and profess our feelings. No. First, I had to know why my mother had brought this hunk of a man home. Which was something she’d certainly never, ever done before.

Jessica explained Carl was an old high school friend who’d just moved back to Richmond to work on the high-rise apartments being built a few blocks from our home.

Friends, my mother kept saying. Just friends.

And the best part was, Carl had agreed with her.

I’d been thrilled. After questioning him about his personal life, and learning he was single, I knew we’d be together. But, like the movies, we couldn’t just fling ourselves at each other. There had to be a courting phase.

We’re now coming up to the one-year mark. He’s always around here on the weekends and a few nights a week after work. It’s almost as if he doesn’t have a home of his own. He simply can’t stay away.

The only disappointing thing about Carl is that, after all this time, he still hasn’t made a move. I think I have an idea why, though. If I’m right, my upcoming sixteenth birthday should solve that problem.

Something seemed to happen to my mother, too, once Carl entered our lives. Jessica began dating. Random, irregular dates, but they were still actual dates. I’d never seen my mother date anyone. I didn’t complain, because Carl keeps me company whenever Jessica goes out.

The first night he took me to Luna Park. A night I’ll never forget. Waiting in the lines, we stood close, brushing against each other as if it was completely innocent, but I knew better. Then the rides themselves gave us both the opportunity to sit close, to lean against each other when the roller coaster took a tight bend, or the Whipper Snapper’s centrifugal force pressed me tight against his muscular body. Even though he didn’t hold my hand or kiss me, it was a perfect first date. He acted like a perfect gentleman. My perfect gentleman. If he wanted to take things slow, then I’d decided I’d wait.

My entire life, I’ve never had anyone interested in me the way Carl Lockhart is. From the start, he’d wanted to know every detail about me, starting with my first memories. Telling him everything, I never once saw his eyes cloud over like my mother’s do when I try to tell her what’s happening in my life. No, Carl always listens with rapt attention to every boring, insignificant detail. He wants to know me completely, like no one else on this planet knows me, not even my mother.

Outside, the familiar rumble of the school bus catches my attention. Racing to the living room window, I draw the curtains aside. Across the harsh glare of the run-down unit’s car park, the bus pulls to the curb on the street and a few kids climb on. As the doors hiss shut and the bus moves away, I grin.

Oops. What a shame. Oh well.

Walking over to the cordless phone on the kitchen bench, I dial Carl’s number by heart, wishing once again that I was allowed to have a mobile phone like every other teenager.

“Hey, it’s me,” I say, knowing there’s no need to elaborate. “Any chance of a ride to school?”

“What do you think?” he asks, his voice full of warmth and humour that seems reserved for me alone.

“See you in five?”

“Sure.”

I wait for him to hang up first.

Excited, I race into the bathroom to re-check my appearance.

The mirror tells me there’s no hope. My hair’s a year overdue for a cut, the ends thin and split. Makeup isn’t even an option since my mother won’t buy it for me and I have no access to any money. Though, I’m grateful for my clear skin, which some of the girls at school would kill for. Most likely I’m blessed with this complexion because Jessica rarely brings home junk food. At least that’s one good thing about having a tightwad for a mother.

Straightening the thick-rimmed glasses with their oversized frames, I sigh. There really is nothing I can do. Besides, Carl doesn’t seem to care. He likes me just the way I am. Grinning stupidly at myself, I remember the first time I watched Bridget Jones’s Diary and how I swooned when Mark Darcy said that line. But now, Mark Darcy is no match for the very real Carl Lockhart.

As I brush my teeth for the second time this morning—because you just never know—I hear the familiar toot of Carl’s car horn. My heart gives a little jolt. I spit out the toothpaste, rinse and check I haven’t left behind any white film. Satisfied, I dash through the living room, pick up my backpack, and step into the already sweltering morning heat.

Squinting against the sunlight bouncing off Carl’s windscreen, I hurry to the passenger side, toss my backpack in the tray, and climb in.

He grins at me and waits until I put on my seatbelt.

“This is becoming quite a habit,” he says with amusement.

I give him my best innocent expression. “Do you mind?”

“Would I be here if I did?” His grin widens as he stretches an arm behind my seat and meets my eyes.

I smile back, giving him a casual shrug.

Then he looks over his shoulder and reverses. I always love this moment, pretending he’s putting his arm around me and not the back of my seat. It also gives me a chance to study his profile without being too obvious.

I glance at the logo on his company shirt: Barnett Constructions. Whoever Barnett is, I wish I could thank him for bringing Carl into my life.

Before my time runs out, I let my eyes drift to the muscles straining in his tanned throat, then up to his jaw. Today is his off day for shaving. From a constant study of his face, I know he only shaves every second day. I think I like the off days best. He looks extra handsome with the rugged stubble. Manly, not like the stupid boys at school who can only manage to grow bum-fluff.

My gaze sweeps over his straight nose, his forehead, and dark, thick hair. Hair I’ve wanted to run my fingers through for so long. Then his eyes, a stunning blue like Daniel Craig’s, lock onto mine. I hadn’t even realised we’d stopped reversing. Jeez, and now he’s caught me staring.

“What?” he asks.

It would be so easy, I think. So why not?

Reaching toward his face, I gently brush my fingertips over his stubbly cheek. “Just some fluff,” I lie, as if the intimate touch means nothing, as if it hasn’t felt like electricity. I quickly withdraw my hand, place it in my lap and watch him from the corner of my eye.

Blinking rapidly, he faces front, and as he puts the car in gear and accelerates, I don’t miss the bob of his Adam’s apple.

I bite down hard on my molars to stop the grin that wants to emerge. Oh, I definitely have an effect on him. His reaction leaves me with no doubt. Well, we’ve known each other for a year, so I think it’s about time one of us makes a move.

And tonight’s our regular movie night, so why shouldn’t it be me?