“I don’t know what his name is. Flynn just said there had been an American interested in you.” When I finally got the courage to look up from the blanket and into his eyes, I saw all of his insecurity pooled there. It was knowing he had asked, even though he probably didn’t want to hear the answer he was expecting, which gave me the guts to tell him. Everything. Well, everything except the night Garrett pushed things too far when kissing me, less than a hundred yards from where we were sitting.
“I hate myself for admitting this. You’ll probably hate me for admitting it. But I’m glad he didn’t turn out to be the person you thought he was. Because if he had, you’d probably be with him now, not me, and I don’t think I could cope with that. I don’t want to think about him kissing you, touching you. But I’m so glad, so fucking relieved, that there wasn’t anything more than that.” He leant over and kissed me, oh-so-gently. “Because I don’t think I could live with knowing I had caused that. That I was responsible for taking what we had, what he have, and dirtying it.” His watery eyes showed me how much he meant what he was saying, how much guilt he carried with him. But I was also glad Jake was still the only person I had been with, that what we had still had some element of purity to it.
“I don’t hate you for saying that, Jake. I could never hate you. I feel the same. What about you? Has there been—” Before I had even finished, he took my head in his hands and looked at me.
“No. You are my life. I can’t imagine being able to live without you. I tried it and know how miserable it was. You are my sun, rain and soil. I need you to grow.” He laughed self-consciously. “I can’t believe I’m talking about gardening. But you know what I mean. Without you, I can’t survive. I’d wither and die. I need you. I need you, Myrtle.” His hands held me firm as he gave me the deepest, most serious kiss of the day so far.
“I need you more,” I said when we broke for air. “Let’s go.” This time, it was me who took him by the hand and led him to the van.
When we got back to campus, he pulled his rucksack from the back of the van and locked it. Hand-in-hand, we walked to my room.
“Ready?” The glint in his eye told me how ready he was as I unlocked my door.
“Oh, yes!” And then I thought about it. “Shit, no! No, I’m not ready.” Him, his balloons and his picnic had made me forget my plans for the afternoon – and there was no way he was getting any closer until I had had some serious bathroom time. I stood in the doorway, not wanting to go one step further.
“What do you mean?” His about-face would have been funny, if it wasn’t for the serious expression on his face.
“I’m not ready. You know, I need some… umm… maintenance.”
“Maintenance? What do you mean?” Bless the innocence of boys about things like that.
“I need to have a shower, shave my legs and stuff,” I admitted.
“You don’t need to do that, Neve. Trust me, there is nothing that could turn me off right now.”
“I beg to differ. One stroke of my furry legs and you’ll be looking for your keys! Please. I want it to be special.” He pulled me to him, hard, and eased his tongue into my mouth before picking me up. Walking us into my room, he slammed the door and leaned me against it.
“It’s you. It’s me. It’s us. How much more special can it be?”
His kiss changed to something more gentle, more coercive. “But, because I love you and want you to be happy, you have half an hour to do whatever needs to be done. I will sit here, patiently, until the thirty minutes is up. At that point, furry legs or no furry legs, we carry on this… conversation. Deal?” He held me to him so I could feel how ready he was. But half an hour? I had intended to spend half a bloody day! I mentally ran through what was essential as he pushed me in the direction of the bathroom. “Ready, steady, GO!” He shut the door behind him.
I started by sending a mental thanks to Mum and Dad for paying the extra rent for me to have an en suite room. And lost a minute. Intent on producing the best possible me before the deadline, I brushed my teeth, plucked a few stray eyebrow hairs and dealt with a couple of spots. Music could be heard through my door and I imagined him scrolling through his playlists, trying to work out what best suited the afternoon.
“I can’t hear the shower running. Twenty-four minutes to go!” Or maybe he was just watching the clock.
“Oh, my God, don’t listen!” The door opened and Jake leant against the frame.
“Well, I could watch, I suppose.”
“No!”
“Please? I promise I’ll be good.” His grin suggested he didn’t even know the definition of good.
“No! Now get out. You’re wasting my minutes!” I pushed him out and loudly locked the door, loving the sound of his laugh on the other side.
I showered, shaved everything that needed it and rubbed in some fancy body lotion Mum had given me for my birthday. And then I realised. When Jake pushed me into the bathroom, I didn’t think to pick up any clean clothes, underwear, anything.
“Umm, babe?” I asked through the door.