Page 33 of Protector

We watch Peter Pan, followed by To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, because one, I always get my way, and two, I know Puck secretly likes it. It’s almost four in the morning when both films are finished.

My head is on Puck’s chest, and his shirt has lifted at the bottom, showing off the edge of his tanned stomach, and my fingers mindlessly tickle the skin just above his joggers.

It’s only happened a couple of times, both times ignored by either one of us. I’ve been too shy to bring it up, and I guess Puck never wanted to. But this time, there’s no ignoring it.

Remember when I said he’s grown in more ways than one?

The growing bulge in Puck’s grey joggers is obvious as my fingers trace the waistband.

I’m not naïve. I’ve had more chats with Maria, much to my embarrassment, about safe sex and all that jazz. And I know we’re not ready yet. I am still fifteen, after all.

But the feeling between my thighs when we kiss isn’t coincidental. The curiosity of his growing bulge under his joggers from my fingers isn’t an accident.

I’m discovering the way my body reacts to things, and it’s all very confusing.

“Bon,” Puck says softly, and I pause my fingers instantly, too embarrassed to look up at him.

Puck is seventeen, and he’s curious, way more than I am. I know he’ll touch himself when he gets turned on, like I do sometimes in the dark.

It’s a hard concept to make sense of in my mind, and without any girlfriends to ask, I feel a little lost.

There’s only so much I can talk about with Maria.

“Hey,” Puck says again, lifting my chin up with his fingers so my eyes meet his.

“One day.” He reaches down to kiss my lips.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, pink tinting my cheeks.

“Don’t say sorry. Don’t ever apologise. God, Bonnie, there’s nothing I’d want more than to explore these feelings with you, and we will, soon. Just not right now. We’re doing this properly, okay? I’m not doing anything to mess this up. You’re still only fifteen, and if my mum has taught me anything, it’s to do things right. We both need to make sure you’re ready, okay?”

I nod, a little embarrassed and also annoyed that we’re two years apart in age and life.

“Hey, we have all the time in the world, remember? Till Neverland.”

“Till Neverland,” I reply, kissing him again deeply, until I eventually fall asleep on his chest.

Age 17

The bulge in my pants is still just as prominent after we spent more mindless minutes kissing and long after she fell asleep on me.

Feeling her fingers trace just above my waistband was torture, and even though I did everything in my willpower to avoid it, I couldn’t control my body any more than my mind.

I can’t deny it isn’t hard every single day, just looking at her, that I want to do more than kiss her. But I’m also not going to pressure, push, or take this further.

Like I said, we have loads of time.

She’s still so young that until she can confidently say it’s something she wants, I won’t go there with her. I don’t want her to resent me.

So instead, I’ll do what I’ve been doing for the past few years. Once I’m in the shower, I can take care of myself.

Bonnie is prone to just barging through my bedroom door whenever she pleases, if she knows she won’t get caught by Carlo, so I try not to do it when I’m in bed.

I don't want Bon to walk in on me.

Carlo’s threat has also been sitting in the back of my mind since it left his mouth.

Would he really use her like that? Sell her off to someone, use her as a pawn, take away her innocence, her life?

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