good-bye.
I shrugged. It was okay. I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and wished I were brave enough to kiss him out here in the street. I really wanted to kiss him. Since yesterday I had begun longing for that intensity again. There was no one else around to see our secret weakness, but still, I couldn’t do it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “Or maybe I’ll call you later….” He grinned. And I knew he would definitely call me later.
I held up my hand in good-bye and walked into the setting sun—the red glow staining the glass of the sky with colored light.
T HE NEXT few days were impossible. Thomas was busy after school every day —though he was a little oblique about what he was doing. We wandered together at lunch and spoke on the phone every night until we were too tired to talk anymore, but it wasn’t enough. It was nowhere near enough. I was sure Thomas felt it too. This newfound intimacy longed to be explored. I felt pulled taut as piano wire in his presence. My body didn’t just call to his. It fucking yelled at the top of its voice. And my fantasies were becoming by turn more playful, adventurous, desperate.
We masturbated together on the phone after I told him a fantasy I kind of made up on the spot about wanting to trace the shape of his balls with my tongue as he knelt on the bed. Corinne was in her room and my door was locked, but it felt illicit and terrifying, and I was nearly sick at the thought of being found out. So much so that my orgasm kind of fizzled rather than exploded, and I wished Thomas’s arms were around me holding me through it.
T HOMAS WAS waiting for me by the gates after school the next day. He kept shifting his schoolbag on his shoulder and fidgeting. It was a kind of guilty look.
“Hey.” He smiled, and the guilty look faded a little.
I smiled back, my fingers brushing against the smooth glass in my pocket—out of habit rather than need.
“Will your sister be home?” he asked shyly as a hundred boisterous kids jostled past us through the gates and onto the windswept playfield.
I shook my head. “Not ’til six.” I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but I also wanted to be with him. Badly.
The wind was whipping up the dust of the car park, and Thomas’s hair kept blowing into his eyes with every gust. He had to brush it back so he could see. A few days ago I’d asked him why he didn’t get it cut. He’d shrugged and said I’d told him I liked it long. And I did—it suited him. But it was the fact that he wanted to keep it like that for me I really liked. The fire flickered and flared deep in the pit of my stomach.
“Can I come home with you?” he asked hopefully, his voice deeper than normal, rough, his eyes locked on mine. I realized he’d been waiting for me to ask. God, I was fucking dense sometimes.
I had this fantasy where we were both naked, lying side by side on a bed, nothing touching—well, apart from our hands. And we had to stay like that until we couldn’t stand it any longer and one of us gave in. I kept thinking about it as we walked across the estate, brushing knuckles, then fingertips, every other step. I loved holding hands with him. As soon as we got inside the tower block, I pulled Thomas toward the relative privacy of the stairs and grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly. Thomas squeezed back, then let go and enfolded me in a tight hug. I closed my eyes, my nose pressed against the smooth skin of his neck, breathing him deep. My body had missed his so much. I felt it in every breath, in every heartbeat. I opened my eyes again and saw what I figured must be the same feeling written across his face.
Why did this have to feel so right? Why did nothing else match up?
I told him my fantasy as we walked slowly up the stairs.
“And that’s it?” Thomas asked in a husky voice. “You want us to get so turned on, we just about pass out? Because… I’m that turned on right now.”
My own desire swirled
I shrugged. It was okay. I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and wished I were brave enough to kiss him out here in the street. I really wanted to kiss him. Since yesterday I had begun longing for that intensity again. There was no one else around to see our secret weakness, but still, I couldn’t do it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “Or maybe I’ll call you later….” He grinned. And I knew he would definitely call me later.
I held up my hand in good-bye and walked into the setting sun—the red glow staining the glass of the sky with colored light.
T HE NEXT few days were impossible. Thomas was busy after school every day —though he was a little oblique about what he was doing. We wandered together at lunch and spoke on the phone every night until we were too tired to talk anymore, but it wasn’t enough. It was nowhere near enough. I was sure Thomas felt it too. This newfound intimacy longed to be explored. I felt pulled taut as piano wire in his presence. My body didn’t just call to his. It fucking yelled at the top of its voice. And my fantasies were becoming by turn more playful, adventurous, desperate.
We masturbated together on the phone after I told him a fantasy I kind of made up on the spot about wanting to trace the shape of his balls with my tongue as he knelt on the bed. Corinne was in her room and my door was locked, but it felt illicit and terrifying, and I was nearly sick at the thought of being found out. So much so that my orgasm kind of fizzled rather than exploded, and I wished Thomas’s arms were around me holding me through it.
T HOMAS WAS waiting for me by the gates after school the next day. He kept shifting his schoolbag on his shoulder and fidgeting. It was a kind of guilty look.
“Hey.” He smiled, and the guilty look faded a little.
I smiled back, my fingers brushing against the smooth glass in my pocket—out of habit rather than need.
“Will your sister be home?” he asked shyly as a hundred boisterous kids jostled past us through the gates and onto the windswept playfield.
I shook my head. “Not ’til six.” I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but I also wanted to be with him. Badly.
The wind was whipping up the dust of the car park, and Thomas’s hair kept blowing into his eyes with every gust. He had to brush it back so he could see. A few days ago I’d asked him why he didn’t get it cut. He’d shrugged and said I’d told him I liked it long. And I did—it suited him. But it was the fact that he wanted to keep it like that for me I really liked. The fire flickered and flared deep in the pit of my stomach.
“Can I come home with you?” he asked hopefully, his voice deeper than normal, rough, his eyes locked on mine. I realized he’d been waiting for me to ask. God, I was fucking dense sometimes.
I had this fantasy where we were both naked, lying side by side on a bed, nothing touching—well, apart from our hands. And we had to stay like that until we couldn’t stand it any longer and one of us gave in. I kept thinking about it as we walked across the estate, brushing knuckles, then fingertips, every other step. I loved holding hands with him. As soon as we got inside the tower block, I pulled Thomas toward the relative privacy of the stairs and grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly. Thomas squeezed back, then let go and enfolded me in a tight hug. I closed my eyes, my nose pressed against the smooth skin of his neck, breathing him deep. My body had missed his so much. I felt it in every breath, in every heartbeat. I opened my eyes again and saw what I figured must be the same feeling written across his face.
Why did this have to feel so right? Why did nothing else match up?
I told him my fantasy as we walked slowly up the stairs.
“And that’s it?” Thomas asked in a husky voice. “You want us to get so turned on, we just about pass out? Because… I’m that turned on right now.”
My own desire swirled
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