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Freddy laughs. “I can’t see that going down well.”
‘It doesn’t have to.” And then I say something so totally stupid I could shoot myself. “You could come with me? We could go somewhere together?”
A never-ending tide of silence washes between us while he contemplates my ridiculous suggestion.
“What? You and I living together, studying together, just like this?” He motions his hand to the house we will inhabit by ourselves for the next couple of days while we play at being grown-ups.
My throat becomes drier at the thought of us being like this every day, and more of the butterflies awaken and extend their wings in preparation of flight.
“Maybe?” I shrug in an offhand manner, like it really doesn’t matter either way.
“You wouldn’t want me hanging around, stopping you from talking to all the other boys.” He wiggles an eyebrow, which makes me giggle.
“What boys?” I blush, remembering Dani’s little outburst. “I don’t think I will be looking at any other boys at uni or anywhere else.”
“Why?” He fires the question at me.
I’m slower with my response. I down my wine to the last dregs and carefully place my glass on the floor. Then, moving onto my knees, I shift myself until I am right in front of him, my hands resting on his knees. “Because of you, Freddy.” I lean in and kiss him, trying to put all the emotions and words I am too scared to say into my kiss.
His hands lift and slide along my back until they reach my hair, and he deepens the kiss, making me feel like I’m drowning, as the wine mingles with desire. Gently, his fingers untangle from my hair and reach for me, pulling me onto his lap. I snuggle in, keeping my mouth on his as my own hands explore his broad shoulders and chest. It’s no good, I can’t feel shit. I tug at the edge of his hoodie, pulling it over his head, my fingers keen to get back to their prize. A t-shirt takes the next stand between my fingers and his skin. With an impatient tug, I pull the t-shirt off and lob it across the room, leaning myself into his chest. With a low murmur, his mouth never leaving mine, he swiftly unbuttons my shirt and runs his hands over my ribs, his thumbs sweeping wide, grazing the underneath of my bra. I pull back so I can make some form of eye contact with him. There’s something I need to say before I take it too far. Something important. I just need to remember it and not keep focusing on the feel of his warm skin under my fingertips.
“Freddy?”
His mouth moves against my neck, featherlight flutters making my heart pound. “Only speak if it’s of life-or-death importance.” I feel his lips curve into a smile.
Damn it. I pull away and pretend to ignore the fact I am sitting there in just jeans and my bra. “I need to say this.”
With a sigh, he leans back onto his hands and looks up at me through the blonde hair that’s fallen into his eyes.
My heart, which is racing anyway, starts to beat at an uncomfortably loud pitch, each thud making my chest ache in a way I’ve never experienced before. “It’s just,” I stutter over the words I want to say. “It’s just I know you are looking for something, waiting for something. I don’t want you to feel like I’m expecting anything from you.”
This is like the very tip of the iceberg of what I want to say. What I want to say is I’m sorry I gave myself away to people I didn’t care about and not wait for a moment like this. I want to tell him I really want to be the one he is looking for, the one he trusts enough to be with. I want to tell him every thought I’ve ever had about him and the way I feel when he’s close to me, like my bones are melting, my skin’s burning, and my organs are beating just so I’m able to stand next to him and breathe the same air as him at the same time.
A slow smile lifts the left side of his lips and before I can bumble out any other half- baked sentiments, he swoops forwards and spins our positions, so he is now on top of me, the fire roaring by our side. “Thank you for your considerate thought, Amber French.” His tone is teasing. “But I think you can stop worrying about that.” And then as the fire crackles beside us, our hands slowly learn the shape of each other and our mouths the taste, until finally it’s just him, and me, together. Later, as he pulls me into his arms and snakes them tight around me, our skin cooling along with the dying fire, I understand what that emotion is I’ve been feeling but unable to name. Love. First love.
