Hands on a whiteboard, sleeves rolled up. Tendons.
I close my eyes, and it’s not the blond lad.
Shoulders. The shirt was across his back. His hip against the lectern, weight shifted, that posture.
I come so hard my knees nearly give out. Back against the wall, teeth in my own lip, grip still firm around the lad who finishes a few seconds later with a grunt and a shudder.
‘Fuck,’ the lad says, cleans up with a tissue, efficient. ‘That was intense.’
‘Yeah.’ I’m already pulling up my jeans. ‘See you around.’
My eyes stay forward, never back.
Except.
The orgasm is still in my legs, the adrenaline, and it wasn’t for him.
I’ve wanted bodies before. Lots of them. I’ve never wanted a body with a name attached to it and a voice in my head saying that name in the Lancashire way.
That’s—new.
CHAPTER TWO
Night bus. The 142 to Fallowfield, top deck, the seat at the back where the heating vent blows warm air on your ankles, and everything smells of damp and chip paper. Forehead on the glass. Manchester does its orange-lit crawl.
My phone buzzes.
How’d it go?
Femi, I type back.Fine. You?
Three dots, typing. Stop typing again. This goes on long enough that the bus passes two stops.
I texted Allan. Coffee tomorrow.
I stare at it.
Coffee tomorrow. A napkin, coffee, and a number folded over someone’s heart.
I had an orgasm against a soap dispenser with someone whose name I’ve already forgotten.
The bus stops. Someone gets on smelling of kebab. I shift to the window.
Femi’s going to sit across from Allan tomorrow. Ask him what his favourite food is. Films? Modules? Whether he prefers cats or dogs. Allan will answer, and Femi will listen, and they’ll do this again and again.
I never knew that—the repeating.
A locked bathroom. A stranger’s breathing when he finishes. How to leave. Don’t look back.
And then I think abouthim, out of the blue. Not the bloke from the bathroom.
He, the man from the lecture theatre.
Hands, voice. The look.
Three AM, hard again. Stomach tight, breathing uneven.
Thursday night. The bloke next door’s finished his midnight appointment, and the halls are still enough to hear someone’s phone alarm three rooms down, going off and off and off.
