lightly touch his left cheek feeling the stubble sharp against my fingertips. ‘Not tonight.’
He takes another deep breath and again I wonder what he’s thinking inside. Is he getting sick of waiting? Is he getting bored with me? Does he still fancy me?
I lean in and wrap my arms around him, pulling him in again. When our lips part, his face has relaxed a little and the lines around his eyes are now almost completely faded from his skin. He looks less tense. He brushes another strand off my cheek and tucks it behind my ear. His fingers linger over the silver and pearl studs in my earlobe, before dropping heavily to the bed. ‘OK.’ He swings his legs off the bed and puts his face in his hands, leaning over. Away from me.
I’ve disappointed him.
I hate doing that, but I keep doing it. Why?
I swing a leg around him and lay my head gently on his back. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper in his ear.
‘It’s fine, Soph, really. We’ve got plenty of time. And it’ll happen, right?’
Lifting my head, I wrap my arms around him and interlace my fingers at his stomach. I pull him in closer. ‘Of course it’ll happen.’ I playfully press against his belly until he squirms.
He laughs and wriggles away. He runs a hand through his hair and then turns to face me. He places a hand on my cheek. ‘Soon, yeah?’
I push my cheek further into his palm and press a smile onto my face even though I don’t feel it inside. ‘Yes, soon. I promise.’
He kisses me again, quickly and briefly this time. Then leans back over the bed.
‘You’re leaving?’ I ask, watching him shove his feet into his trainers.
‘Yeah, your mum and dad will be home soon anyway. And I promised Lee I’d catch up with him tonight.’
‘Oh.’ I turn and look at the chrome-rimmed clock on my wall, where the hands extend out from the Eiffel Tower and slowly circle around an outline of Paris by day. ‘Now? It’s kinda late?’
He fixes his laces then turns to me. ‘I’ll text you.’
He tries to move but I grab his torso and pull him into me. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him again. When I pull away, his eyes are already open. ‘Don’t forget to text me.’
He smiles, playfully nuzzles against my nose then walks out of the bedroom, leaving the door open. A cold draught seeps in from the hallway and snakes up to my bed, to my bare shoulders and exposed arms. I fling my body back onto the quilt and listen to his footsteps. His feet get quieter as he moves through to the back of the house and out the rear door.
And then he’s gone.
The cold air lingers in the room, encasing me, squeezing me. My fingers scroll through my iPhone until our last conversation.
Can’t wait to see you tonight x
He’d sent that to me only an hour before he’d arrived. It was enough to send warmth to my cheeks and whole body. I’d waited for him.
Steve and I have been together for a year now, although I can’t believe it’s been a whole year. I guess time really does fly by when you’re this happy. I still remember when I first noticed him. It feels like it was last night. I didn’t even like him at first. He was overconfident, brash, even a little rude at times. We didn’t fall into the same social circle, not that I run in a particular ‘social circle’. I’ve always struggled in social situations. I get nervous when people talk to me, wondering what they’re expecting me to say back and what happens if my response doesn’t meet their expectations. What if I’m not funny enough? Or not interesting enough? What if they’re not even talking to me and instead they’re actually talking to the person behind me?
All these scenarios play out in my head to the point where going out is no longer an option. All I want to do is go to school, finish my homework, and spend all my free time with Steve. I have friends of course. Well, maybe just one. I hang out with Ulana a lot. Her boyfriend plays football with Steve on Thursday nights and Saturday mornings. She can’t ever watch him play though. She’s not supposed to have a boyfriend. Her parents are crazy strict.
But I don’t freeze up so much when I’m around her, and never with Steve. I can be myself completely with him. I never have to worry if I’m funny enough or interesting enough. I never have to look over my shoulder when he talks because he’s always talking to me. Steve doesn’t care about my social skills or my ability – or inability – to work a room full of people. He does all that for me. He speaks for me when we go out so I never have to think too much about what to say. Honestly, it’s not the social expectations of dating that terrify me. It’s not even the anxiety-producing process of getting prepared to sleep with your boyfriend for the first time. It’s the simple truth – that was revealed to me only recently – that for him, this isn’t his first time. He’s done this before. Probably many times before based on what Ulana told me last week. Steve is experienced in this sort of stuff.
And me?
Well, I am clearly not.
I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m so lost when it comes to relationships. I’m not like the other girls at school, and definitely nothing like the girls he’s dated. I’m not social and fun like Trina Davis. She’s the life of the party. Yes, she’s usually throwing up in someone’s garden by the end of the night, but she still tops me. And Lucy McNeil?
No one is like Lucy McNeil.
I’ll never be as confident, or as pretty, and certainly never as popular, as Lucy McNeil.
‘I had an amazing summer,’ I start. Immediately all three girls lean in to give me their complete attention. I would be a little mad if they didn’t. It’s a good story. Mine usually are. ‘I went to Italy with my mum and dad in July for three weeks then Mallorca in August.’
(The Mallorca part is true).
‘You look so tanned. I’m so jealous!’ cried Mollie, raising her sandwich to her pink-stained lips.
‘I know. I’m so scared it’s already fading though,’ I say, puckering my mouth into a sulk. I hold out my arm, still golden brown as if I only came back yesterday. No one needs to know I spent most of last week on the sunbed. It has to look like I spent most of July in Italy. It has to look like I’m telling the truth. Otherwise, they’ll know.
‘You should use Boots’ Extender Tan. I slathered that on after I went to Florida last summer and it really worked,’ Cara said, stretching out her arm to meet mine.
‘Have you seen Rhys since you got back?’ Lily suddenly asks.
Cara nudges her in the side of her stomach.
‘I didn’t mean to bring him up. I was just wondering if you were getting back together?’
I take a deep breath and look back over my shoulder to make sure he’s not nearby. ‘Well, we did see each other a bit over the summer—’
‘Really? Because I
