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I grit my teeth.
Charlie: Fuck off Lucas.
Lucas: That’s all you got?
I grip my phone tightly as a myriad of responses flood through my brain. In the end, I push my phone to the end of the desk, face down. I’m not going to reply any longer, because I want to punch him in the face, and it’s not a smart idea to have evidence of my intent to inflict bodily harm.
I’m not going to let Lucas’s actions slide, though. He can’t just say that crap to me whenever he wants.
This time, I manage to actually focus on the words on my laptop, and as I distract myself with studying, my anger slowly fades.
The library closes at six, so Cleo and I pack up and get dinner. Afterwards, I walk Cleo to Flinders Street Station, where she’ll take the metro home. We’re holding hands, and her palm is soft and warm against mine.
“You haven’t done it before, have you?” she asks.
“Done what before?” I ask.
“Sex,” she says.
My cheeks heat. “Oh. No. I told you, you’re my first girlfriend.”
“I know,” she says, “but I wondered whether you’d done it with someone at a party, or something.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I wouldn’t do it with a stranger. I want it to be special.”
Her lips stretch into a smile. “That’s sweet,” she says. Her voice, though soft, reminds me of a teacher speaking to a child who doesn’t know any better. “We’ve been dating for almost a month now,” she continues. “I was wondering…whether you’ve thought about it.”
Oh.
Oh.
“Well, yeah,” I admit. “But I don’t want to rush. But yeah, of course I’ve thought about it!”
She giggles. “Trust me, you wouldn’t be rushing. To be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t brought it up yet.” She leans in, the smell of raspberry overwhelming my senses. “Would you like to try it soon?”
My brain glitches. “Y-yes,” I reply. “That sounds…” I swallow. “Good.”
She giggles. “Good.”
“Should we do it at yours, or mine?” I ask.
“Yours,” Cleo decides.
I nod. “I’ll make sure my flatmate is out.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Right. Your flatmate,” she says slowly. “Yes, we wouldn’t want him to interrupt.”
*
“Charlie.”
“No.”
“Charlie.”
“No.”
“Charlie,” Lucas repeats, standing over me.
