“Sure thing.”
He steered me away from Amber.
“Bye,” she called. The way she looked at me, I felt like I was in that film, The Green Mile, where this man gets led to the electric chair.
“Bye,” I waved.
The next time I saw her, I was in hospital.
Forty-one
He kissed me the moment we were off college grounds.
“Come here,” he said, all gruff, pulling me into him. His hands stroked my back as his mouth explored my mouth. If all my craziness was a sore throat, then Guy was a Strepsil, melting the crap away in my head. A nicely flavoured Strepsil at that, the sort you pretend you have a sore throat for so you can nick one out of your friend’s packet.
When he pulled away, he cupped my face in his hands and stared right at me. I could only stare back – feeling love – or whatever the hell this was – jumping through my tummy.
“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day.”
“You could’ve told me as much,” I said, without thinking.
“What was that?”
“Me too.”
“Great.” He took my hand and pulled it to start walking. He swung it back and forth too hard, making me giggle.
The low winter sun was bright, but it was still so cold that the morning’s frost hadn’t melted. We crunched our way through alleyways, melting icy leaves with our footprints. It was perfect. I couldn’t stop smiling. The air was clean, I was falling in love with a boy, we were holding hands and I was too happy to worry about whether he’d washed his hands…
I’d done it. This was normal. Preferable even. Other girls may even walk past us and ENVY me – rather than the other way round.
As we got nearer his house, the jumping beans in my stomach started some sort of sponsored jumpathon. Guy sensed my hesitation and stopped, right on his driveway.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, squeezing my hand.
The real answer
I’m terrified.
I’m not sure I’m doing this for the right reasons.
Do you care for me?
Will I regret this?
Will it hurt?
Am I even ready?
What I said
“You sure your parents are out?”
He grinned and squeezed harder. “Yep. My mum and her boyfriend are at the theatre in London.”
“Oh, great.” There was no chance of an interruption…which was good, I supposed.
“Plus they’re pretty okay about me having girls around the house.”
WHAT?!
“Oh…”
What girls? What girls? How many? Had he used a condom? Did he still love them? Did he even like them? Had he washed his sheets?
My breath caught in my throat. Guy had dropped my hand to unlock his front door, which was just as well because it was shaking.
He beckoned me inside, with a bow and a flourish. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
“Cool,” I squeaked, and stepped over the threshold.
He led me straight upstairs to his bedroom. No tour of the living room, no kissing on the couch, not even a polite question about whether I wanted a glass of water. Just up the stairs, my hand gripped in his, and through the doorway.
I didn’t get to take in much of his room before he slammed me against the door and started kissing me. The walls were red, the bed unmade, it smelled a bit of stale…something. Guy’s kisses were different to usual – angrier, more urgent. He kept nipping my lip and his stubble scratched my chin. It was nice, but it wasn’t. I felt aroused, terrified and confused in equal measures – like a Victoria sponge recipe…for losing your virginity.
I made myself focus on the present moment and all the different sensations erupting over my body to keep calm. There were Guy’s kisses, which made my lips tingle and my intestines go limp with how good they felt. There was the weight of his hand on my left boob, gently squeezing it through my top. There were the sounds he made, the moans and groans. There were the sounds I was making – the odd gasp, as he tried something new.
And, gradually, I got lost in the “now” and let life happen to me.
He steered me to his bed, bending me over it backwards until we fell, limbs entwined, into the sag of his mattress. He pinned my arms behind my head and showered me with kisses – on my face, my neck, up my arms.
I let out a sigh.
I found myself pulling his top over his head, letting the weight of his body crush me, trailing my fingernails down his back. He didn’t notice the state of my hands… Next he was tugging my top up and over my head, covering my cold skin with his warm mouth.
“You have such great tits,” he said, before kissing them through my bra. And I winced, because that wasn’t the most romantic thing to say.
Things Guy could’ve said instead
You’re beautiful/gorgeous/stunning/perfect.
I’m falling for you.
Are you ready?
He reached round my back and, like magic, my bra was undone, and fell on the bed between us.
BAD THOUGHT
How did he undo your bra so easily?
BAD THOUGHT
You can’t even undo it that quickly, and you undo your bra every day. You usually have to pull the straps down and swivel the damn thing to the front in order to unclasp it.
BAD THOUGHT
This means he’s done it loads of times before…and…
BAD THOUGHT
YOUR BOOBS ARE OUT IN THE OPEN! GUY FROM COLLEGE CAN SEE YOUR BOOBS!
Sheer instinct made me cross my arms over myself, trying to cover as much of my chest as I could. If Guy noticed, he didn’t react. Though he did leave my WIDE OUT IN THE OPEN boobs alone a bit and concentrated on pulling down my jeans instead. They didn’t slide off like in the movies. I didn’t know not to wear skinnies, so they got stuck halfway down my calves and I had to kick them off, turning the bottom bits inside out in the process. One sock came with off with them, the other didn’t.
At the sight of my purply-from-the-cold legs, Guy groaned and stroked them, making them warm with his mouth. I tried to lose myself again but I was too busy covering my breasts with my arms and crossing my legs though I knew I should be doing the opposite. Guy ran his hands up and down my skin. He kissed me deeply again then, using that as a distraction, he wedged his hand between the gap of my clasped legs, like a key in a stubborn lock. He began touching me through my knickers. Then he took my hands, guided them to his unzipped jeans, and coaxed me into touching him back.
My eyes flew open.
Thoughts became wildly obvious.
Perfectly reasonable thought
You’re not ready, Evelyn.
And another
You’re not doing this for the right reason.
And one more
If he really likes you, he’ll understand.
And, for once, I trusted my thoughts.
In a moment, my hand was off his groin and I’d backed away on the bed, pulling my knees up to cover my chest. Guy’s mouth hung open, looking lost without my mouth covering it.
“What the fuck?” He half-opened his eyes. “Where’d ya go?”
“Guy? Aren’t you going to court me?” I asked, before I really thought what I was going to say.
His eyes narrowed…in confusion…annoyance? “Huh?”
I scrabbled for my jumper and pulled it over my head. He watched me, his mouth slowly melting into a cartoon sad face.
“Like shouldn’t we at least go for a date before we sleep together? In the olden days, men used to ‘court’ women. Or ‘woo’ them. You know? Like in the old movies? They’d sweep them off their feet and work really hard to get their hand in marriage?”
“Marriage?” His face went even whiter than normal.
“I mean, I don’t want us to get married, but don’t you think you should court me a little? Just to be polite. You know, like, work for a bit before you get in my knickers?”