“I could do with a bath, or even a shower,” I said, wriggling where I lay, trying to scratch my back against the hay underneath.
“Doesn’t bother me,” said Spider.
“Obviously,” I said.
“What do you mean?” he said.
“You stink, Spider. No offense, mate, but you do. And I stink, too, now, and I don’t wanna.”
While we’d been talking, a noise had been building up in the background. Now, in a pause, I could hear drumming on the tin roof. It was raining. The noise was incredible, water battering down on metal. I wriggled out of the tunnel and sat on a hay bale, pulling my top over my head and unbuttoning my jeans.
“What you doing?!” Spider had emerged behind me.
My jeans got stuck on my sneakers. I yanked at the laces.
“I’m going to get clean. Come on, come outside.” Down to my bra and undies. Bare feet.
I ran outside. It was lashing down. I could feel mud and crap splashing up my legs as great drops hit the ground. I didn’t care. It felt fantastic. Fresh, icy pinpricks hitting my defenseless skin. I tipped my face up toward the sky, rubbed my hands over it and over my scalp, through the bristles of hair. The itchiness was going away. I smoothed the rain into my skin, all over, then stood, faceup again, mouth open, catching raindrops on my tongue.
I looked across to the shed. In the gloom I could see Spider leaning against one of the metal legs, smiling and shaking his head.
“You’ve lost it, man!” he shouted. “You’ve really lost it.”
“No,” I bellowed back. “It’s great! Come on out here!”
“Na-ah. Not me, man. I got wet enough yesterday.”
I ran over to him, laughing as my feet slipped in some mud and I almost went over. He backed away, but I grabbed his arm, then held both his hands and pulled him outside. Once he started to get wet, he gave in, started stripping off and throwing his clothes back into the barn. “I can’t believe we’re doing this. It’s mad!”
I ran back out, twirling around with my arms outstretched, losing myself in the dark and the rain. Down to his briefs, Spider picked his way out to me gingerly, curved over, stomach sucked in, his body trying to defend itself against the cold. He was so skinny. You could see his muscles, not because he was buff, just because there was no fat hiding them. He stood there with his arms across his body. He wouldn’t look me in the eye. I was past shyness, carried away with the exhilaration, but he stood there, paralyzed with self-consciousness.
“It’s freakin’ freezing!” he squealed. I laughed.
“It’s refreshing!”
“It feels like needles!”
“Rub it in. Rub the water in, it’s fine.”
He rubbed one arm, stiffly, then moved up to his shoulder. “Oh, yeah, you’re right.” He started to get into it, running his hands over his hair, turning his face up like me, closing his eyes. He let out a whoop of joy, and I watched him as he smoothed the water from his face and shoulders and chest, and it struck me suddenly. He was beautiful.
I felt my whole body flush with the shock of it. It was like I was seeing him for the first time, seeing beyond what everyone else saw – the twitching and swearing, the aggression and awkwardness.
I realized he was looking at me.
“What?” he said.
“Nothing.”
“Getting cold?”
“Nah, I’m alright.”
“You have to keep moving or you’ll freeze!” He suddenly took off, leaping around like a lunatic, whooping. I joined in, dancing and skipping, laughing my head off. He grabbed my hand and spun me around, then pulled me in toward him and put his arm ’round my waist, and we waltzed around like a couple of maniacs. And all the time, the rain was thundering down around us. It was the maddest, maddest thing.
“Someone up there likes you!” he shouted into my ear.
“What do you mean?”
“They sent you a shower just when you wanted it, didn’t they?”
“It’s just rain. There’s no one up there.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, no one’s been looking out for me for the past fifteen years, why would they start now?”
We’d stopped dancing, but he still had his arm around me.
“I’ll always look out for you,” he said. His words went straight into the middle of me. My stomach kind of flipped over. At the same time, my eyes starting stinging. There was no “always” for this boy. I turned my head away so he wouldn’t see my tears.
“I mean it, Jem.”
“I know,” I said unsteadily.
He brought his hand up to hold the end of my chin and gently turned my head back toward him. Our heights were so mismatched, my eyes were at the level of his chest. He tilted my head and bent down toward me.
I just had time to think, This isn’t happening, before I felt his lips press gently on mine. I closed my eyes. His mouth moved slightly, and his nose nuzzled mine. I felt him start to move away again and opened my eyes. His face was so close, it was sort of distorted, but the number was there, the same as ever. As he moved away, he became more familiar, his features morphing back into the Spider I knew. He frowned, let go of me, and held up both his hands.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” I said quickly. “Don’t be.” I reached up and cupped the back of his neck and drew him down to me, and we kissed again. And we lost ourselves in each other, gently exploring the faces and features we’d thought we knew so well. Standing in the rain, in the dark, in a totally different dimension.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I lay back on the blanket, instinctively crossing my arms over my tits. He was trying to touch me there, to kiss me. I knew my arms were fending him off, I didn’t want to, it was just so difficult. If we were going to do this, I told myself, I’d have to trust him, to let him in. I made myself lift up my arms, right over my head, so my hands were resting on the hay behind me. It was a willful act – I was laying myself open to him. He responded eagerly, kissing, nibbling, and sucking. It was wonderful. And shocking. It was too new and too weird, and I found myself stepping away in my mind. I became an observer, and the absurdity of us naked in a smelly barn, the bizarre sensations all over my skin, inside me, the tension of it all, forced stuttering laughter out of my mouth.
Spider stopped what he was doing and looked up at me. His face was deadly serious – I’d never seen him so serious.
“You’re laughing.”
“No.” But I couldn’t hold down my nervous giggles.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No, ’course not. It’s just…I’m just…not used to it. I’m sorry.” The laughter drained away as I saw how hurt he was.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ve never done this before. I’m nervous. It’s fine. Come here.” I wasn’t far from crying now, all my emotions way too near the surface. I drew him down to me, kissing him tenderly, urging him with my mouth to kiss me back. It was better when we were kissing. We relaxed in the softness of each other’s mouths, the wetness. It brought me back into my body. I was there with him again.
He caressed me and stroked me, nervous energy trembling out of the ends of his fingers. He fumbled in the dark, and we did it. We really did it – there, on an itchy blanket, with the dust from the hay and the smell of cow shit in our nostrils. The hay bales beneath us may have rocked a bit, but the earth didn’t move. It was awkward, mechanical – all over in a minute or so – not worth worrying about. But afterward, we were different. Not because of the sex, because of the closeness, the intimacy. We covered ourselves up as much as we could with the two blankets and the old green coat, and huddled together. The rain had washed away his sour smell, there was only a slight comforting muskiness as I nestled into him, with my head on his chest.
“Have you done that before?” I asked.
“Yeah, ’course. Loads of times.” His lie hung in the air. “Well, once, anyway.” I waited. “OK, I’ve done it once now. With you.”