Page 64 of Boy Friends
He takes his time to answer, leaving me to admire his lashes. They look as soft as the tip of an artist’s paintbrush. I want to trace the curve of them.
‘Happiest I’ve ever been. So is it fair to ask for more?’
‘More happiness?’ I ask, and earn a nod. ‘Always.’
For once, my want is stronger than my fear, and I lift my hands to his face. With my thumbs, I trace the arcs of his eyebrows. They’re the brows of a poet, flawless and sorrowful. His eyes flutter shut, so I graze the lids like they’re butterfly wings, barely at all.
I get a sense of déjà vu. Something has been lifted, and I see clearly. It’s almost like I’ve been here before, in a dream, but now we’re both awake. Simo’s hands have found their way beneath my vest, his palms burn into my skin. Blood rushes from my head to a different part of my body. I want him to pull me closer, but I’m suddenly so freaked out by the strength of my own desire that I dive out of his embrace and find the edge of the pool. Once I’ve calmed down enough that there are no giveaway signs, I lift myself out and grab the bottle of champagne. Before this goes anyfurther, I need to set a few things straight. I deserve honesty, and so does he.
I let my legs dangle and loosen the cork. With a pop, it explodes, showering me in champagne. Simo is in fits and struggles to keep his head above water. He pulls himself to the edge, half giggling, half hiccupping. He grins up at me, and that alone is enough to make my pulse spike. A person should not be able to wield such power with nothing but a smile. I offer him the bottle so he’ll stop beaming.
‘How about a game?’ he suggests. Without taking his eyes off me, he sets his lips to the mouth and takes a deep chug. I watch as he swallows, and it’s like I’ve never seen an Adam’s apple move before.
‘I’m not doing dares, Simo.’ My throat is dry, so I take a sip too.
He places his palms by my knees and raises himself out of the water. It runs down his torso in a hundred little streams and disappears into his trousers. They hang low on his hips; the fabric clings to him.
‘Dares are boring. Truth requires more guts,’ he whispers, inches from my face. Truth is what I’m most scared of because I want it so much. So I say yes.
‘I’ll start us off.’ Simo pushes himself off and floats into the middle of the pool. His voice is clear and echoes around me. ‘Those two weeks in Granada? I missed you every single day.’
My heart beats in my throat, but I can’t let the moment pass, or I won’t get the words out.
‘I missed you too.’
There is so much bubbling to the surface, all comingfrom the place where I shove the thoughts I can’t face. But I’m reaching a boiling point, my secrets spilling out.
‘The night of my grandparents’ party, it felt like there was something between us that wasn’t there before. Like if Dad hadn’t made us leave . . . I don’t know.’
‘There was something between us,’ he confirms.
‘Do you think it’s there still? Because . . .’ I start, mustering all the confidence I have, ‘because I know it’s there for me.’
But I can only guess what’s going on in him, and I’m sick of not knowing. If this is the moment that breaks us, I can’t stop it. My gaze locks on to his. Even if I wanted to look away, I couldn’t.
‘For me too.’
These words are all I need to hear. I glide back into the water, and Simo doesn’t move, only watches as I close the distance between us.
Fear runs through my veins. Not the kind of fear before a fall, or during, but the half-moment between, when the body reaches the tipping point and it’s too late to change your mind. It’s too late when I see the black of Simo’s pupils swallow up the brown and only gold specks remain. It’s too late when the heat of his breath hits my skin. My fear roars one last time and our bodies meet. His lips find mine. I’ve never felt so scared and so good at the same time.
Kissing, in my mind, is two people melting into each other, becoming one. But with no holds left, we collide. I’m hyperaware of where I end and he begins, every point of contact firing up my nerves. My teeth scrape against his skin, his fingers sink into my flesh. I want him so much, haven’t learned how to curb my desire, and so it takes meunder. As I pull him deeper into my embrace, Simo makes the smallest sound, caught between a sigh and a moan. It slips from the back of his throat, travels from his lips to mine and lands on my tongue: a drop of pleasure.
Locked in this kiss, we start to sink. I might be drowning, but with nothing but Simo on my mind and his breath in my mouth, I’ve never felt more alive.
We’re close. Closer than ever.
We kiss for hours, kiss all night. It’s like meeting Simo for the first time. I don’t know him like this, have never known the feel of his lips. Every kiss is a surprise. He can be soft and demanding, his grip firm and light. When his nails dig into my ribs and the edge of a tooth scratches my lip, I want more. When I break the kiss, seal his mouth with my thumb, he bites it, his gaze burning with mischief and longing. It’s a glorious feeling, knowing that he wants me as much as I want him, so I let it overwhelm me, let him overwhelm me. I remove my thumb, let him kiss me softly and roughly, and discover him all over again. I lose all sense of place, don’t care about time. All we do is float and kiss.
I run so hot, it’s only when Simo lifts his lips from mine that I realise my skin’s like ice. We stumble out of the pool, unable to find our balance. Wet and disoriented, we slip and stumble against the half-empty champagne bottle. I barely hear it crash, because I’m busy kissing Simo. He lifts me up and carries me away, giggling and dripping, and I get a glimpse of a foaming puddle, glass shards glimmering in the half-light. It’s immediately forgotten when he presses me against a wall and strips me of the soaking vest, his handsburning as they glide over my torso. We keep stumbling towards our room, into a hot shower, on to a king-size mattress. We’ve shared a bed so many times that our bodies fold into each other like it’s the most natural thing. I fall asleep as soon as my head hits Simo’s chest, his heartbeat lulling me into a dream.
When I wake up, the house is on fire. Bright light burns into my retinas, shouting pierces my eardrums.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Anna stands at the end of the bed. Her nostrils flare, and I have never seen her so dishevelled. ‘Where were you?’ Her voice is reaching ear-splitting levels. No fire then, but maybe something worse. Simo sits up beside me, but I don’t dare look at him.
‘We wanted to try the pool,’ I say, relieved to find that I’m at least wearing briefs.
‘And try it you did, judging by the broken glass in it,’ Graham grunts. He stands behind Anna looking just as furious. His head is so red, it looks fit to burst any second. They’re still in the clothes from last night, mostly because it still is last night. The clock on the bedside table shows 1.33 a.m. My body begins to sweat from shame.
