Page 13 of Forever, Maybe
“I do—or I would, if I ever tried it!” she declared, lifting her chin as if daring him to argue further.
He shrugged and snapped open a plastic sandwich carton, peeling back the film with a satisfyingcrack. He held half a sandwich in front of her mouth, his eyes twinkling.
“Fancy a bite?” he teased.
Nell rolled her eyes but obliged, the mix of flavours immediately hitting her taste buds. She chewed thoughtfully, then narrowed her eyes at him. “This isn’t chicken with jalapeños, is it?”
She felt rather than saw him shake his head behind her. “Smoked salmon and cream cheese. You’re English and posh, so I thought I should bring something quality. Made them myself. This morning.”
She dug an elbow into his thigh again, more gently this time. When he fed her the entire sandwich, she wondered at the absence of the guilt that normally accompanied eating. The silencing of that nagging, whining inner voice was like the stopping of a rotary hammer that had been digging into the ground outside for so long, she’d grown accustomed to it.
More comfortable in the role of questioner than interviewee, Nell doubled down when it was her turn to ask things, while Danny responded with an easy confidence, never dominating the conversation the way so many of her fellow students did.
He talked about his Uncle Shane, who’d lent him the money to buy the van and secure the lease on the shop. “But I’ll pay it back,” he added firmly. “Every penny. Soon as I can.”
“You’re very driven,” she remarked, tilting her head curiously. “Why’s that?”
He hesitated, swallowing hard before glancing away. “It’s… my dad. He couldn’t work for a while when I was a wee boy. Money was tight—no new clothes, no holidays. We ate a lot o’ beans on toast.”
His tone was matter-of-fact, but she caught the flicker of discomfort in his eyes. Clearly, it wasn’t something he liked dwelling on, because he pivoted quickly. “You said people would flock to a shop if I had one.”
He cracked open another can of cider, the fizzing sound sharp in the quiet. Nell placed her own can on the floor, a flicker of caution surfacing. If she kept drinking, they might end up having sex for the first time right here on the grimy floor of a former butcher’s shop.
“Oh, they will!” she said, catching the faint trace of doubt in his remark. “In their hundreds of thousands! But this won’t be your only shop, oh no. You’ll open a whole chain in Glasgow. Then Edinburgh. Maybe even London! You’ll buy a fleet of vans to tour the country in the summer, selling overpriced sandwiches to boozed-up students and festival-goers.”
He raised an eyebrow, but she pressed on, her voice growing more animated. “In the future, journalists will write glowing profiles about you. They’ll call youThe Sandwich King of Glasgow. You’ll run business mentoring programmes for budding entrepreneurs, giving inspirational talks to packed auditoriums.”
“Is that right?” he murmured, his lips brushing against the back of her neck, his nose grazing through her hair to find her skin. A shiver rippled down her spine, and her back arched instinctively.
“That’s a mighty vision you’ve got for me,” he said, his voice low and amused.
“Mmm-hmm, but I’m ninety per cent confident it’ll happen,” she replied, smiling as the warmth of his breath lingered against her skin.
“Not one hundred per cent?”
“You should always leave ten per cent for the unexpected,” she said lightly.
He shifted his hands off his knees. As one hand began a slow descent, his fingertips brushed her throat.
“God, you’re so gorgeous,” he whispered.
She could feel him stiffening behind her and she pushed herself back into his crotch. His breathing quickened. “Er… I dunno if—”
She turned around. His jaw hung open, and his eyes drank her in. This close, she made out the golden flecks in his irises, the stray dark hairs between his brows and the light sheen of sweat gathered on his upper lip. She reached out a hand, stroking the side of his face and apologising when he flinched. Her hands were nearly always ice-cold.
The moment caught her up, tornado-like. By now, she’d adjusted to the smell. Who cared if she was in a butcher’s shop, and this was where they ended up having sex for the first time?
She leaned forward, kissing first his nose and then settling on his mouth. Soft, supple lips pressed against hers, igniting every nerve ending in her body. His arm curled around her, drawing her into his embrace. That first kiss had been stand-out but had simply been a dress rehearsal for this one.
He pulled back, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. “Nell, I’m… I’m a virgin.”
For a fleeting second, Darren Hardy’s ghost flickered in her mind. She shoved him down, letting the memory sink into the fathoms of her subconscious where it belonged. After a moment’s pause, the bubbles of discomfort dispersed.
“And I’ve only been with two other guys, so that doesn’t matter,” she said softly, kissing the tip of his nose to drive the point home. “Honestly.”
A sheepish smile tugged at his lips. “Er… my last girlfriend liked oral. We did that instead so she wouldn’t go to hell. Y’know, like the nuns telt her she would for having sex before marriage. So… I’m no’ bad at that.”
She blinked. Wow, he was direct. Not in a bragging way, just… matter-of-fact. It was oddly endearing. She reached for the zip of his jeans, her eyes fixed on his. “Is that what you want? A blow-job?”
