Finally

Boy-girl short story.

"Mum, Inky. Inky... I mean Sam... Mum." I spoke quickly as I walked through the hallway, desperate for the privacy of my own bedroom. When he stopped to start talking to my mother - forever the most polite gentleman of all sorts - I reached back without looking and made a grab for his wrist.�
�� As he started walking, he changed my own hold so our fingers were interlaced. I didn't like it. I knew he was here for a purpose and this only made it more obvious. I quickly pulled away and kept walking, remembering the way he had held me at the station. I didn't like that either. I mean, I should have. I was so confused. I was just waiting for the change of mind and the hurt to follow.�
�� I was glad he was following me and couldn't see the problem-solving expression on my face. When I got to my room I opened the door, motioned him through, went through myself and shut the door. I kicked off my volleys and threw my Mickey Mouse jumper on the floor among the other mess.�
�� For a moment, I couldn't look at him. I wasn't usually embarrassed at the state of my room but this wasn't just anyone, was it?
�� I walked straight past his back where he stood looking at photos on my always messy desk. I rested one hand on the end of the bed and vaulted up onto the top bunk as easy as if it were my horse - knowing he wasn't looking, should I miss and fall.�
�� "Wow. I was going to ask if you made this," I turned around to realise he'd just watched me 'scramble' onto the bunk. Inky, as only I called him, was holding one of the show browbamds I had in fact made.
�� He had his crooked smile plastered on his face as if he couldn't get rid of it. Complete with the dimple in the corner of his mouth. "but now I'm going to ask how you hid that agility in all those years of P.E at school. I mean... you refused to do hurdles and you told me it was beause of an accident in primary school..."
�� I sighed and shifted the pillow so I could lean against the wall. I wanted to smile and laugh but I was just too apprehensive, too cautious. �
�� "Make yourself comfortable, wherever you want. There was a terrible experience in primary school. A pisser now of course. I just don't like sports. Or P.E. Or bragging about what I can do. I thought you'd know that after 'all those years'." I looked down from the top bunk and used my fingers to emphasize the quote.�
�� "I do. I just don't know how you hid it. How did you do that anyway? That bunk is like the height of you, I swear."
�� "Thanks." I said sarcastically. I hated the size remarks of my tiny five foot one and a half inches. Especially when he was easily six foot. "Horses." And that was my only explanation.
�� We hadn't made a blink of eye contact since we hugged at the station. I hugged him as a haven't-seen-you-in-over-a-year-Mate kind of way. He, however, had something else on his mind and wrapped one of his long arms around my waist using the other on the back of my neck to pull me closer to him.�
�� I stuttered and he let go and apologised. He didn't care to explain when I asked so I cracked it and dragged him home without conversation. It was a lengthy and silent walk back to my Mum's house. I didn't like not knowing things and after not seeing him at all, it was twice as confusing than if it had been in the six months of the awkwardness that had happened before goodbyes.�
�� Trying to look uninterested by cleaning the dirt from under my fingernails, I didn't see him climb onto the other end of the bed until the movement alerted me. I felt very uncivilized as I partially ignored me.�
�� "Whats wrong?" He asked. S**t! I can't hide anything from him. I used to like that. I still did, I think, anyway.
�� "You first. Why did you come here? After all this time. After all that happened. Why go to so much effort." I was going to be in charge this time. I was asking the questions and going to get the answers. I certainly wasn't putting myself in the firing line again. I'd taken too many risks with him.�
�� "Lu, smile, please? You're making me nervous."�
�� Now I smiled and said, "Good." before motioning him to continue.�
�� "You know..." God, I was so over these games. He used to do that all the time when he didn't feel comfortable answering a question and he knew it pissed me off.�
�� I scowled at him and now he hurried to explain. I don't know if it was fear of upsetting me or the fear of upsetting me to the point where his safety was jeapoardised. Either was possible.�
�� "Well, Ashleigh told Nick that you weren't feeling well. Like, coping. And then Nick told me. So I came."
�� "Thats not what I meant. WHY did YOU come. You could have just called. Or sent Nick. Or asked my sister or Ashleigh or something." I knew which question I wanted properly answered, and wasted no time when trying to find out.�
�� He squirmed uncomfortably. He was sitting right on the edge of the bed. Just as his center of gravity fell too far to the left, I caught his arm and pulled him up.�
�� For a moment after, my fingers lingered around his wrist. Following what seemed an eternity, my gaze moved from the lightly tanned skin to this young man's face. His eyes were still on my fingers, but his eyes and expression were soft.�
�� I quickly let go as if I'd been electric shocked. Which is what it felt like after realisation hit. That hug was different in the feeling of touch, in the way I had hugged him, it was different to this. It was just a hug. But now, the way my fingers had grasped him, was like I was afraid to let go.�
�� The feeling in my chest flushed a small measure of salt water to the back of my eyes. I blinked once and the feeling was gone. Before I could recoil completely, Inky shifted further into the matress and took hold of my hand.�
�� He just sat patiently, watching my palm as if he should need to catch it again. I sighed and let it fall further into his hold. I sat crossed legged about thirty centimetres from him, directly diagonal. Same distance in front as to his side, one of each of our hands sat in the No-Man's-Land inbetween.�
�� I faced the inevitable shortly and lifted my eyelids to meet his face. He was watching me.�
�� "Are you as afraid as I am that you'll just vanish? Poof!" He asked, fighting the urge to look elsewhere.�
�� "Yes." I whispered, wondering if any noise had been choked out at all. He turned my hand over with his other and drew pictures on the skin with his finger tips.�
�� For minutes we sat in silence. Sam Knight, thinking about me, I presume, and lining the squiggles on the back of my hand. Each time he drew a line extended further up my wrist, a shiver ran up my spine.�
�� This was the most intimate moment we had ever had. �Thinking this caused me to recall the last three years. � �
�� Starting as a simple crush, it grew to such intense emotion that he broke my heart several times. It was so on and off. So up and down. That was part of the drug. The six months before I left Essendon were the worst. They got so good. He started to feel more for me.�
�� But it was shortlived. We were only immature, inexperienced kids. We both made the mistakes. We both screwed it up, big time. The awkwardness got better, and it got worse. When I finally was able to change schools with the aid of the family court, I thought it best to try amd steer clear as much as possible.�
�� Eventually, as anyone would expect, the aching and longing drifted away somewhat but I continued to rely on him. Something just kept a string tied between the two of us. And there we sat, both thinking about that time.
�� "You were so in love with me. That whole time." He was focusing madly on whatever he was creating on my pale brown-pink skin.�
�� "You say that like it's a good thing. It was pathetic, I know. I'm sorry." I was still whispering. It felt like a dream, that if I spoke too loudly it would wake me up. But it wasn't.�
�� Suddenly, his head shot up and the look I recieved was enough to make me jump. It took all my strength not to yank my extended arm straight back to my body.�
�� "Please don't apologize! I feel so terrible without you trying to blame yourself. I liked you too. I just didn't realise it too well. And I didn't know how strongly. And I screwed it up. I lied to you. I pushed you away because I THOUGHT I might like someone else. I hurt you. I! I am sorry."
�� "That entire time?" This was news to me. The only time I was certain he felt something for me was the lead up to our one-off date-kind-of-thing and the four days after it. Before he, yes, lied to me.�
�� "It sounds terrible. It was on and off." He looked so ashamed. I laughed. Kind of loudly. It only made him shrink further into himself. That's when I panicked and came clean.�
�� "Mine was on and off too." And I giggled again, that STUPID, annoying, mortifying, shrilly laugh I had when I wasn't trying to shape it. I hate it. And after I quietened, I frowned at it. He smiled.�
�� "I love that laugh." That was the end of it. I needed answers and I needed them now.
�� "Mmm. And I suppose you just love going on the train, getting off somewhere and hoping the person you wanted made enough effort to meet you too?" I looked straight into his eyes. It wasn't awkward anymore. Almost comfortable. And we were both more confident now.
�� "Oh, that again." I let him think it over. He knew he had to answer this time. "Well, you know. Woops, sorry." He flashed that bright smile and I almost fell off the bed.�
�� "Come on." I said. I was trying to sound a bit peeved, just to get the words from him.�
�� "Okay. I missed you, okay? All the time. And then that day you came in to give Ashleigh and all their books, that miserable, broken look you shot me was burned into my brain. It really was. Serious." When he paused to think of the next sentence, I was shaking my head. I am a manipulative b***h. "And then after Nick told me that, I just couldn't stop thinking about you. Like old wounds reopened. I had this massive lump of guilt sitting in my throat." He swallowed so appropriately at that time. I just had to remark.�
�� "Sure it wasn't a chicken bone? Or one of�Gracie and your's saliva balls?" I was joking but then I remembered one of my friends.�
�� We had been surface friends, really. Never really too close. But we were both those people that everyone opens up to, so it was easy for us to talk.�
�� About four months before - or something, I was so hurt and irrationally jealous (I didn't like him, remember?), I didn't want to pay any attention - she and Sam had gotten together. Good for them, I'd thought at the time. But now there was a new issue. "What about Gracie? Or are you just going to go back tonight and pretend none of this happened, ey? Clear your own concience?"�
�� He feigned a hurt expression as if he would ever do something so horrible.�
�� "That's the thing. On top of thinking about you, your pretty little face would appear in place of Gracie's. When she and I were kissing - sorry for hurtful details - I was involuntarily imagining they were your lips. It got to the point this morning that I couldn't do it any more. That last romantic feeling for her faded. It was all going, the longer I spent away from you. I broke up with her, so I could be with you." He put his hand up and ran an index finger down my chin. I shrank like a little coward. "Sorry." was what he whispered.�
�� Again, my suspicions surfaced.�
�� "What if all this isn't real, Sam? What if you just thought it was the last year because of guilt? You really like Gracie. Nick just happened to say something to unbalance your thoughts? What if this feeling just washes away tomorrow morning no matter what happened tonight?"
�� "Why would you think that? Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to face you? You did a good job of getting all those words out of me too, by the way." He eyed me, waiting for an answer and then grinned. "What's happening tonight?"�
�� Using the hand that he was holding to pull him closer to me, I punched him one in the shoulder with the other. Then we both just laughed.�
�� "Well I don't feel like it's going to go away." He stated it matter-of-factly after a moment.�
�� "Have you read the Tarzan series? Any of them?" I could have been asking what the colour of the sky was with the indifference with which he answered, "No". He was used to my strange taste in everything.
�� "Well," I started, knowing he was still paying attention. "there's a scene in the Return of Tarzan where they fall into one of Rokoff's traps and he and the married countess are enveloped into the moment and share a kiss. Later on, D'arnot asked Tarzan if he loved her to which Tarzan replied, 'For an instant we were the victims of a sudden madness--it was not love--and it would have left us, unharmed, as suddenly as it had come upon us.' I can't help feeling that is what shall happen by tomorrow morning. If not to me, at least to you."
�� "Do you still love me, Lucinda?" He looked deeply into me as if seeing the answer before I spoke.�
�� "I think so. It's been a long time."
�� "I can only answer in the same way. But I am positive it is more than what Tarzan and whatserface had, anyhow."
�� "Olga." I corrected. I loved the epic novels of the nineteenth century and wanted them remembered in their full form by anyone made aware of them. I sighed after a moment. I didn't know whether to take a risk with him or not.�
�� In this scenario, having him thinking he felt something for me, it was safer than when I was unsure, wasn't it?
�� When the idea struck me, I acted slowly but at once. I pulled my hand from his and used it to move myself closer to him. I knelt but sat on my left foot. To keep balance I let my right leg rest on his straight legs and hang over the edge of the mattress. He watched. He didn't squirm. I felt like I should have.�
�� When I was sitting comfortably, I put my hands behind his neck and pulled myself up the last inches to be at a closer level to him. His hands were instantly on the small of my back. He was patient, however and looked into my eyes. Occasionally, in what felt like years, though was more like seconds, his gaze fluttered down to my mouth.�
�� I had to stop here for a second, my elbows hardly a bent.�
�� "What are you thinking?" I asked him quietly, with my head turned to the side. I had never felt so embarrassed. I wanted to know how much of whatever this was was the feeling or just the testosterone.�
�� "Well, I was thinking how well my hands fit around your back. And then I was thinking how lucky I was. And then I was really hoping you'd keep going with whatever you were planning to do. What about you?" He spoke just as softly and the words caressed my ear as they flowed past like lillies in a stream - uninterrupted and tranquil.�
�� I laughed a little. I immediately thought of how sexy a laugh had come from me. "My heart is beating in an excess of about a zillion beats per minute. I'm just trying to help you figure out if you were going to change your mind."
�� "Never." He still whispered. He spoke slowly. I looked back to see that smile that I really, truly loved. And right now I knew it without the help of any primitive chemicals through my body.�
�� I leaned in closer and raised my chin a little more, stopping barely three centimetres from the meeting place of our faces. Without moving or turning away this time, I stared at his perfectly shaped mouth. My definition of perfect, anyhow.�
�� "What about now? What do you expect will happen? Wait, before you answer in any form, I have another question when you are finished." I was back in control, I realised, and was getting a little bit giddy.�
�� "Right now, I'm half expecting you to vanish. I can't help it. Or the other half is expecting YOU to change YOUR mind, never mind me."
�� My heart was still jumping. I was terrified I would have convulsions and the organ would rise through my throat and splat between us. Not that there was much room, the way we were squeezed together.
�� "Now..." I took a deep breath through my mouth. His breath tasted so warm, it almost re-broke my slithers of heart. "what do you want to happen?"
�� I looked up into his eyes. He had his lids resting peacefully together. I glanced at his lips and one hand slid further up my back.�
�� "Just kiss me already." And then all hope of restraint was gone. I wouldn't have been able to escape if I'd wanted to. We'd lost control, mutually.�
�� My eyes were smashed hard closed, trying to hold the three years of tears that desperately wanted to be heard. I didn't dare open them in fear of ruining the feel of his lips pressing desperately against mine. The extra detail of sight would have sent me into cardiac arrest.�
�� What started as a tight, constant, simple kiss �ran into movement. At some stage, my physical feeling forced me taller until I was pressing down against him as he stretched upwards, never allowing this contact to dare break.�
�� I sat back down and my arms tightened around his neck until the crook of my elbows were holding us together. His hands had reached opposite sides of my ribcage.�
�� At last I couldn't hold it in anymore and the water streamed from the corners of my eyes. Running down both of our cheeks. We didn't move for a few moments but as our skin became saturated in my tears, we pulled away slightly and looked at each other. It was impossible for us to be out of breath at this point in time.�
�� A smile broke across my face as I continued to cry. He smiled tinily, a look of concern dominating his mature features.�
�� Slowly, gently, he wiped his lips across my cheek bone until they were right on the ball of my smile where he finished with a kiss. He did this again on the other side of my face.�
�� When he returned to his previous position he said, "If those tears had been of sadness, my heart would have broke there and then and you would have had to give me CPR."
�� With a sheepish smile I replied, "How about mouth to mouth?" And we kissed quickly again, not damaging our smiles. �God, my mother would have a fit were she to walk in to this scene.�
�� At last, the hands dropped from my back and I relieved his spine of my strangle hold.
�� I lay with my head in his lap, my knees bent so we both fitted on the single bed. He stroked my head, occasionally playing with a bit of hair or running a thumb across my mouth.�
�� We spoke about things that we both knew of: my old school, his school. Or some of our friends. About family. I told him how Mum had been diagnosed with bipolar and I with my anxieties. It was good. I didn't have to explain my parents' divorce or the miserable life living with my father for several years. He knew it all.�
�� "I knew about that actually," and he coughed, "it must have been hard for you to stand in the station waiting for me. And walking out in public and all. Thank you."
�� "What? How did y-... Dom." We spoke at a normal volume now but we laughed quietly. "Well, I'm glad my sisters aren't here this weekend. We would not have had any privacy. Actually... how long have we left my mother without an explanation?"
�� He pulled out his phone which he had had turned off. "Well, I got here at about four? It's now six-fourteen. Wow."�
�� "How did we manage to waste that much time just by sitting around?" And with the remembrance, we both flushed bright red. "Oh, tea. Hungry?"
�� "Kinda." He lightly bit my nose. And I laughed.
�� I sat up and said, "Alright, down with you." And gave him a light shove. After having slid off, he turned and stood close to the frame of the beds.�
�� He stood so close and already had his hands on my waist ready to help me down. We kissed again, this time my fingers were under his jaw. I felt a slight stubble.�
�� I giggled mid-way through and thought about how he'd have to use my razor if he stayed tonight so I wouldn't end up with a give-all-away pash rash. That was bound to happen.
�� Having pulled me off while we shared that little kiss, he planted me on my feet. Once again he was taller than me. I frowned. I couldn't reach him from down here.�
�� "Hmm, we will have to fix this." He noted. He bent down quickly, just low enough to wrap his arms around my waist and pull me up so we were almost at eye-level again.�
�� As a test, he pecked my lips just once. Having set me back down with a sigh, I said,
�� "Alright, let's go find Mum."

Author's Note

Any spellig mistakes, feel free to tell me. I wrote this on my iPhone with limited spell check.

Reviews

[Matt]

Bravo. this was a great piece. It draws you in too read more.