He's After Me

Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN



Things don’t work out exactly as planned. We go back to the flat and fall straight into bed. Afterwards, I lie in Jem’s arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and it strikes me how rapidly our relationship has developed and changed. Not very long ago it was easy, fun, uncomplicated. Now it’s intense, fiery, fuelled by rows and misunderstandings.

And fear.

Fear? Where did that come from? Lying there with my head on his chest, I feel my forehead crease into a frown. Am I afraid of Jem? I rise up on my elbow to look at him sleeping peacefully beside me. His face is softer in sleep somehow, like a child’s. Of course I’m not afraid of him.

I study him, drinking him in. I love the way his hair grows, thick over his brow; I love his long, dark lashes; I love his jaw, relaxed now in sleep but still firm and almost blue with its barely controlled stubble; I love his straight nose and his olive skin and the smell of him and the glimpse of white, slightly crooked teeth between his lips …

It’s his mouth I love most of all, his beautiful mouth. I love the clearly defined but asymmetric lips with the barely discernable lift at one side that hints of darker depths. I could die for that mouth …

He opens his eyes and smiles up at me, sleepily. I dip my head and press my lips to his and he pulls me back down into the haven of his arms.

I love him.