Page 60 of Open Water

“I love you,” I say. Because now I’m getting all emo, and my boner has kind of fucked off somewhere, and I just want to lie down and cuddle and hold onto him.

“I know.” He smiles. Then, he jumps off the bed and I get an eyeful of his naked arse. Oh fuck! I’m done for. I kind of want to drag him back here right now, so I can sink my teeth into his butt cheek. Nuzzle into his hip. Fold myself around him and go back to sleep for an hour.

“Damn. It’s 7.18. Bus leaves when?” He’s twirling around in a circle, no doubt trying to find his pants.

“7.48. We’ll make it.” Yeah, as long as he stays well away from me and doesn't kiss me. Because that would take a good few minutes and I still need to grab some bananas from the kitchen and I could do with coffee. Please, let there be coffee in the cupboard.

“Socks, baby,” I say and hurl the pack from the floor at him. “From Dad. He said he bought you socks.” Fuck knows why. But whatever. If that’s his kink?

Matteo has gone all emo in the corner kind of stroking a pair of supermarket brand family value sports socks in his hand. Like they are precious or something.

“Your Dad is nice,” he says quietly as he pulls a brilliant white sock over his foot.

“He’s alright,” I reply and sneak out the door.

The coffee machine is empty, so I load it as fast as I can, then brush my teeth over the kitchen sink, trying to find the travel cup I usually bring when I can’t be bothered to eat. Even though I know I should eat. Keep myself stable and sensible with slow release carbohydrates. I shove a mouthful of banana in my face and almost want to cry, because now I can’t taste him on my tongue anymore, the saltiness dulled out by toothpaste and fruit.

“Is there enough for me?” he asks from behind, his rucksack slung over his shoulder. The stupid idiot.

“Would I make myself coffee and not make enough for you? What kind of future husband do you think I am?” I tease as he sneaks in a kiss.

“A gorgeous one,” he whispers back. Then, he rummages through his rucksack which honestly is full of crap. Clothes and papers and totally random things like a battered travel mug which I grab from his outstretched hand.

“I loved what we did, you know, this morning,” he says from under his fringe. Wrapping his arms around my waist almost tipping me off balance as I try to fill our cups with coffee.

“I’m shit at it, but with a little more practice…” I start, but he puts his hand over my mouth. Kisses my cheek.

“You were amazing, and I was a selfish twat, because you didn't get to come. Pumpkin, you are going to get one hell of a blowjob tonight when we get back here.”

He’s a tease. Because all he needs to do is whisper little promises in my ear, and I’m now sporting a semi in my jeans.

“Stay the weekend?” I’m not really asking. I’m telling.

“Your Dad is going to get pissed off if I’m here all the time.”

“My Dad probably loves you more than he loves me. My Dad will feed you and make you sit and watch crap on TV with him and probably cry if you try to leave.”

He will as well. The wanker. Even though he has been better lately. Less annoying, and I suppose stalking my teacher is keeping him occupied and out of my hair. Which is good.

I should get him to up his game. Go stand outside Lukas’s door and sing badly to him or something, because that is one epic love story that he and Lukas have going on, and Lukas might not know it, but my Dad is one hell of a stubborn shit when he wants something.

“Okay?” Fuck, Matteo is gorgeous when he smiles. I wonder if I will ever get tired of seeing him smile.

“Cool,” I say. I mean it. It’s more than cool.

* * *

I glance over at him on the bus, his head resting against my shoulder as I let myself return to reality. His breathing is slow, almost like he’s asleep, when I know he’s not. He’s probably lost in his head just like me. Thinking too much. Daydreaming. Wishing for the bus to go faster so we can get home and just lie in bed and snuggle.

I was fine this morning, and strangely, I amstillabsolutely fine. It’s an unfamiliar feeling… This, being happy. I’m happy. Matteo is happy. We’re so fucking happy it’s making my head spin.

And school was surprisingly fine. I drifted off in class more than once, and my thoughts betrayed me after the Norwegian lecture, causing my body to curl into a ball in the back stall of the second-floor toilets. I didn’t panic, though. I don’t know how or why, but I breathed through it. Deep and slow as my fingers tapped furiously on Matteo’s contact details on the phone in my hand.

I felt a bit stupid when he picked up, because just hearing his voice made me cry. I just sobbed quietly into the receiver with his voice smooth-talking me back into some kind of sense. He was in his gym class, accompanied by a symphony of bouncing basketballs and shouts and screams, but I kept breathing. Smiling. Wiping my face on the sleeve of my hoodie, thinking I was a total flake.

Well, it’s true. I am. He still loves me though. He kept telling me and kept asking if I wanted him to come to me, because he would. He said he would walk out of his class right there and then, and fuck the PE teacher if she dared to take his A-grade away from him. Because I’m important. I’m more important than anything else. Fuck him. Because after that I was sobbing again, even though he made me laugh through it all.

He hugged the shit out of me at the end of the day, when I found him in the cafeteria. And I hugged the shit out of him right back. Then, he held my hand all the way to the bus stop, tangling his fingers into mine and talking a load of nonsense that I could barely comprehend, since I am too busy looking at his lips and keeping my boner under control. My boyfriend is damn fine. My boyfriend. He’s mine.

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