Page 4 of Only ever you-Ana & Byron
Chapter three
Chapter 3
Ana and Byron (age 16)
Cadi and Gray were pretending to "look for something" behind the old cricket shed, which mostly involved a lot of giggling and suspicious rustling. Byron threw a twig at them.
"Honestly," he grumbled, "since that rugby match fiasco, they've been stuck together like Velcro."
Ana sat cross-legged beside him, the spine ofOf Mice and Menbent delicately against her knee. Her long, inky black hair was twisted into a messy knot, and a pencil stabbed through it to hold it precariously in place. A few silky strands curled around her face. Her skin had that smooth, creamy olive tone she inherited from her Sicilian dad, offset by her Irish mother's sharp cheekbones and those brilliant moss green eyes. She wore her glasses functional, oversized and slightly askew and the new curves that had the boys looking twice filled out her sixth-form blouse.
Ana hummed noncommittally, pretending to stay focused on her book. She didn't say it, but she still remembered the other conversation from earlier that week that Cadi had whispered in her room, her face half-hidden behind a pillow.
"He kissed me. Properly on the lips and put his tongue in my mouth. And then he... y'know... touched my boob."
"Was it alright?"
"Yeah. It felt... good."
"Okay, but listen. You need to be careful. Teen pregnancy isn't a plot twist in an Agatha Christie book, Cadi. It's a full-blown end-of-career, kinda thing."
"Ana!"
"I'm serious. You know, they said to use condoms in PHST. Use your brain as well as your-"
"Alright, alright! God, ANA!"
Her cheeks had gone the same colour as her hair. Ana had tried to play it cool, but her voice had taken on the no-nonsense tone of her mother. She meant well, but she knew she'd come on a bit strong. Not that she knew what she was talking about. Theory only, no practical.
Back in the present, Byron sighed dramatically beside her.
He grinned before drawling slyly, "Bet you anything they're snoggin' right now."
Ana raised a brow. "You think everything is snogging. Including stealing your neighbour's panties. What about meaningful conversation?"
"We've had those," Byron said, eyes still on the sky. "Doesn't mean I wouldn't snog you."
Ana blinked. "Excuse me?"
He turned his head lazily to look at her and just...
The sun caught on her glasses, throwing tiny speckles across her face. Her expression was all challenge, lips pursed, one brow lifted, like she was daring him to say something stupid again. Her hair had half fallen loose, curling around her jaw. She smelled like peppermint chewing gum and something vaguely citrus from her mum's shampoo. And in that weird, flickering second, Byron felt his heart kick in his chest like it had been doing recently with Ana.
Bloody hell, she's gorgeous. Even back when he was with Marianne, he still thought of Ana.
He blinked, shook it off and forced a smirk.
"Kidding," he said. "Relax."
"You wish, Manc boy."
"You're just sayin' that 'cause you haven't been kissed yet" Byron shot back. "You need some experience, Ana."
She snapped her book shut. "Excuse me. Unlike you, I don't measure my self-worth by saliva exchange."
Byron laughed, folding his arms behind his head as he lay back on the grass. "So, you admit it then, still unkissed?"
Ana rolled her eyes. "At least I don't go around bragging about things I barely understand."
