Page 39 of Commitment Issues
He tugs at the zip, and I’m on him, pulling him away from my case, both of us laughing hard, acting like a couple of kids. He’s strong, but I’m stronger, in spite of our age difference, and I clamp my arms around him, forcing him hard against my body. His laughter cuts away, abrupt and sudden, and is replaced with hard pants, his hot breath sending a shiver across my burning skin. Night wraps itself around us, the only light coming from the moon, the only sound our heavy breaths.
He doesn’t resist as my arms tighten around him. We’re the exact height, a perfect match, our bodies fitting together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, and as one our heads tilt, our lips loosening and parting, ready for the kiss that’s as inevitable and unstoppable as the rising of the sun and the ebb and flow of the waves.
A high-pitched shriek rips through the silence, tearing us apart.
“What’s that?” Freddie stumbles back a step, rubbing his palm over the back of his neck. “Sorry. Sorry. About the tea. Just mucking about, shouldn’t be going through your stuff. Sorry—”
I fall back, widening the distance between us.
“It was a Scops owl,” I croak.“We don’t have them in the UK.”
An owl? I’m talking about anowl?
“Right. Okay. Yeah, an owl.”
I throw the top of the case open, and pull out the small box of teabags from a zipped compartment.
“I’ll, erm, leave the drink. If you don’t mind,” he mumbles, still rubbing at the back of his neck.
My fingers itch to ease his hand away, to tell him it’s all right, but instead I take another step back, putting even more distance between us. It’s been a long and fraught day, we’re tired, we were mucking around, just releasing the day’s build-up of tension. That’s all it is.
“I’m going to get some sleep. I’ll take the sofa,” he says.
He goes to dodge around me, but I catch his arm. “I said no. You have the bed.”
“No, I—”
“If it makes you feel better, we’ll share it — I mean we’ll swap around, like you originally suggested,” I add quickly. “I’ll just grab some stuff and set up next door.”
“Okay. If you’re sure? I’ll, erm, just go and clean my teeth. Night.” He darts into the en-suite, closing the door behind him.
Moments later and bundled up with some quickly retrieved spare bedding, I make my way back to the lounge. Shutting the bedroom door behind me, the screech of an owl once more rips through the night, as the hammering in my chest rips through my heart.
