“Huh,” he says.
I don’t give him any time to consider this further, as another thought pops into my head. “What do your mum and Stu think about . . . our relationship? Do they think we’re dating?”
He shrugs, barks out a laugh, then slaps a hand over his mouth because we are trying to be quiet for Logan. “I never asked them.” He’s lying. I can see in his eyes there’s something he’s not telling me, and I know they already assume we’re a couple.
My mind instantly plays back brain-videos of our interactions. Eggo, Kelly, Stu, and me in the tiny dining room eating ourbreakfast. Ordering takeaway every Saturday. Watching their TV. Chatting about everything from getting tattooed to festivals in the nineties to Mr Bean. Since the schools had broken up for summer at the end of last month, Kelly had been accompanying us on day trips with and without Logan.
We’d been to country estates, castles, museums, beaches, fun parks, places that couples and families go to, but she’d never asked us, “So, what’s the deal with you two?” Now I’m wondering if she should have asked.
Because I want to know.
But I’m also a coward. And if I say,“Eggs, what are we? What am I to you? Do you think there’s ever the possibility that I could be everything to you the way you’re everything to me?”I might scare him away.
This moment, this little pocket of happiness we’re living in right now, might cease to exist. Like a desert mirage.
So I don’t ask him. I can’t. He could tell me all the things I want to hear, but he could also tear my heart out.“We’re just having fun. We’re just having a lark. I’m joy-maxxing, that’s just what I do.”
But I still need to be closer to him, so I close the two-foot gap between us and kiss him.
“Do you want to do anything tonight? Are you in the mood?” I ask, still whispering because of Logan.
“Princess, I’m always in the fucking mood.” He angles my head away from him and trails hot, breathy kisses down my throat.
“We’ll have to be really,reallyquiet, though.”
“I’ve been getting very good at that,” he says.
“Yes, you have.” I thumb over his nipple, and he emits the tiniest whimper. “What do you want to do, then?”
Eggo cradles my face in his hands and stares into my eyes as he whispers, “Fuck me, Captain. I want you to fuck me. No,wait . . .” His chest rises and falls far too quickly for someone who’s otherwise stationary. “Make love to me.”
“Oh my god.” I’m not sure if I said those words in my head as I intended, or if Eggo heard them too.
“Is . . . that okay?” he asks.
I almost laugh. “Of course.” I want that too. I’ve wanted that for over a year.
“Let me freshen up for you,” he says.
He kisses me and shuts himself inside the bathroom, and I collapse on the bed. It’s creakier than I expected it to be, and every movement I make seems to shake the entire caravan. We’re going to need to be quieter, slower, and more gentle than we’ve ever been.
Oh no, however will I cope?
Eggo steps out of the bathroom exactly twelve minutes later. He’s naked and hard, and his smile is so wide I can see the gap in his gums where his premolar was knocked out during a match against Portsmouth last year.
“Behold my massive erection,” he stage whispers. He drags the dressing table stool in front of the door and climbs onto the bed with me. “Why the fuck do you still have clothes on?”
It takes me less than ten seconds to strip bare, and Eggo does that thing he always does. The thing that makes me feel like the most desirable creature on the planet. Like all his birthdays, and all his Christmases, and all his national pasty and cream tea days—St Piran’s—have come at once. Like I’m a flashing neon sign that saysFREE HOT DOGS.
He pauses and looks me up and down. His brow furrows, he shakes his head, he huffs a near silent “Fuck,” and then he’s kissing me.
Hands and fingers brush naked skin. Goosebumps erupt. The quietest, most restrained moans are elicited. We go slow. Painfully slow. Like we have an eternity to enjoy each other.
I turn him over so that his back presses against my front. We both suck in anxious breaths as the movement seems to jostle the caravan. When it’s clear we won’t be interrupted, I lay a kiss behind his ear, feather them down his spine, then up again.
He’d pre-lubed in the bathroom, so I roll on a condom, add a little extra juice, and gently replace his plug with myself.
He whines as I push into him, but stops himself by jamming a fist in his mouth, though in typical Eggo style he cannot seem to help making noise. His next words are whispers. “Oh my god, Pi. I have wanted to do it like this for so long.”
