Page 80 of Textbook Romance

‘You have no idea…’

She’s quiet.

‘Actually, when I was at your house last week, I was looking at your garden.’

‘It’s a shit garden,’ she replies.

‘It needs some TLC, but you’ve got an amazing apple tree at the end of the garden that’s doing well. You’ve got good soil back there. It’s a good place for trees to flourish.’

We look out to a young couple who seem to be chasing each other around the quad. The boy catches up with the girl and he swings her around, before he kisses her.

‘God, I want to kiss you,’ I tell her without looking at her.

She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees and putting the edge of her thumb in her mouth. I look over at her, seeing her mouth curl to a smile.

‘You know, when I came to your house after the boys’ party last week, I keep thinking back to little moments of that evening.’

‘Moments?’ she asks me. We both still look down the steps, trying to appear like we’re engaging in a normal, decent, educated conversation but the temptation to tease Zoe in this very moment is far too great.

‘That moment when you were sitting on top of me on the edge of your bed and I had your nipple in my mouth. I keep thinking about the expression on your face.’

‘Jack…’ she mumbles, looking over her shoulder in case a student is standing there.

‘I keep thinking about the shape of your mouth when you moan. How I love running my fingers over your lips, down your neck…’

She doesn’t reply but I see her fidgeting on the spot, crossing her legs and hovering her drink over her mouth. Every moment with her seems to be etched in my brain at the moment; there’s an addictive quality about being with her, near her and I can’t compare it to anything else, any other person I’ve been with.

‘Did you like that, Zoe?’

She nods.

‘And I really loved putting my hands on your lower back and feeling the wave of your hips, the movement over me…’ My mouth goes dry, every sinew of my body raging to know she’s right next to me and I can’t touch her. ‘Being inside you… feeling you tighten over me.’

She exhales loudly.

‘I love all of it, all of you.’

I said that, didn’t I? She doesn’t reply and I’m almost glad she doesn’t.

‘Too much?’ I joke.

‘I don’t know how to reply. I’m literally sat here on these stairs on a school trip and my nipples are rock hard,’ she says, gritting her teeth. ‘I hate you.’

I laugh, side-eyeing her, almost wanting to break her. I hope you don’t.

‘But you know what, something I remember so clearly was you hovering over me, kissing my cheek very gently, just here,’ I say, running a line along my stubble. ‘And your face lingered there for a moment, you stroked my hair, and it was gentle and affectionate and I think a lot about that kiss, too.’

‘I love kissing you,’ she finally says.

‘You love it, do you?’

‘Don’t put words in my mouth…’

‘Well, what else can I put in your mouth?’

‘Now that was too much,’ she says, cackling.

She looks over at me and the temptation is too much. I take one of her curls and tuck it around her ear, looking her in the eye. And this is what makes her so attractive to me. The way she studies my face in a way that no one has before. I think of girls who used to tell me before that they thought I was relatively fit or that they liked my hair, but she seems to look beyond that. In fact, I don’t think she’s ever said anything like that to me, just comments on that sort of skin-deep appeal. She says it with her touch, her looks – a quiet appreciation of it all. Always a look like she’s searching beyond all of that, too.

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