“Remarkable.”
“Outstanding.”
“You sound like Mr Rudd describing your swimming talents,” she giggles. “I swear I saw him whip out a thesaurus in assembly at one point.”
“Maybe he was onto something, because you are worthy of synonyms,” I tell her.
“You’re an idiot.”
“You’ve broken me.” I bury my head into her shoulder, feeling her body shake with laughter.
“I’m setting the alarm for 5 a.m. tomorrow.” She rolls over to set the bedside clock. “Early training session.”
“Sounds good,” I yawn.
“Let’s go to sleep,” she says. “Need our eight hours.”
“We live a wild life,” I say as she turns off the bedside light. “Two eighteen-year-olds in bed at nine on a Thursday night.”
“Well, what we did earlier was a bit wild,” she says.
“Yeah, it was.”
The smell of Kath’s coconut shampoo is the last thing I’m aware of before I fall asleep.
Chapter 17
Eighteen years old
Kath
Iknew that this was a good decision, but I don’t think I’d realised how great it would be until this week. It’s been a whirlwind few days. I’m still driving Sam to training like usual, either staying at the sports centre or leaving him to take the bus back. But now instead of watching films in the evening, we go to his room and fool around. I think the time limit on things has made us slightly frantic. Everything’s dialled up.
Sam’s good at this stuff, or at least he’s a quick learner. And it helps that I feel so comfortable around him that I can work out what I do and don’t like and then just tell him. Everyone should have this, I think idly to myself one evening whilst brushing my teeth in his bathroom. This is so much better than some of the experiences I’ve heard about from my other friends.
It’s Saturday, exactly a week since our deal started, and his dad’s working a late shift at the police station, so we have the house to ourselves. Sam is weirdly quiet when I arrive.
“What are you stressed about?” I ask as we tidy up our plates. We’re so used to moving in tandem in this house that we even have a routine for washing dishes.
“Nothing,” he says quickly.
“That’s obviously a lie.” I put the sponge down and turn to him.
When he saysnothingin that tone, it doesn’t really meannothing. His neck is slightly flushed, and his eyes keep darting away from me.
“I’m just…” He pauses, studying the mug he’s drying like it might suddenly give him life advice. “I’m just worried it won’t be good for you.”
My chest aches at his words. Of course he’s only thinking about me.
“I know the first time isn’t exactly groundbreaking. And honestly, Claire said the second, third and fourth were pretty rubbish too.”
His expression twists. “That’s not reassuring, Kath.”
I laugh. “I’m being honest. Lower the bar and then everything is a pleasant surprise.”
He’s still looking at the drying-up cloth instead of me, so I pluck it from his hand, forcing him to face me properly.
“I trust you, Sam.” His eyes flick over mine, still uncertain. “Just take a deep breath. It’s going to be fine.”
