Page 77 of Before You Say Goodbye

“Tell me. I want to know.”

“How old are you? Fifteen?”

“If I just dropped dead, right here, right now—”

“Enough!” He gripped the bottle tightly in one hand and locked his gaze on hers, his eyes wide, his mouth set in a stern straight line. Autumn didn’t have time to feel told off, his expression softened quickly and his anger and irritation dissipated, leaving sadness and resignation in their wake. He showcased so many emotions in such a short space of time that just witnessing them splattered across his face — jumbled and confused, like a sculptors first draft — left Autumn feeling exhausted and empty. Marley, she knew, was battling a secretcomplication. She wished she hadn’t seen the evidence of it. She didn’t want to know. But she didn’t want to leave, either, so, for want of anything else to do, she took the bottle from him and drank from it. Marley balled his hands into fists and frowned down at his taut and whitening fingers. Autumn watched him, waiting patiently for him to calm down, and worrying about how inappropriate their conversation had become. They sat in silence for five minutes or more. When he spoke again, his voice was much softer. “Of course I would miss you if you died, Autumn. More than I can tell you.”

She didn’t know if that was because he couldn’t find the words to express himself, or because he knew that he shouldn’t. She didn’t dare say anything else, so she nudged his leg with her toes instead. He held a hand out to her, his palm raised expectantly to meet hers. She stared at his long, slender fingers and the spot where his heartbeat pumped a rhythm through the veins in his wrist. She knew that it was wrong to indulge his gesture, but she really wanted to wrap her fingers around his. She eyed him with concern, but he seemed to be looking at the television, so she complied, telling herself that this meant nothing. That he was just being affectionate.

The touch of his skin felt comforting against her own.

* * *

She must have fallen asleep, because she was suddenly aware he was talking to her again. She had no idea how much time had passed.

“You know what’s terrible?” he was asking her groggily. He was still holding her hand.

“The UK social-care crisis?” she murmured, in jest.

A gentle laugh escaped his lips. “No,” he said. He smelled of red wine and cigarettes. “Well, I mean, yes, that too, but that wasn’t what I was going to say.”

She allowed her eyes to close again, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. She hoped her gesture would encourage him to carry on talking. She liked the sound of his voice. It was soothing.

“I’ve thought a lot about what might’ve happened if I’d have met you first,” he said. Her breath caught in her chest. “Isn’t that awful?” he added.

His voice was riddled with guilt. She let go of his hand and opened her eyes. She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but they had somehow snuggled close to one another again. She’d been resting her head on his shoulder. Their proximity felt very suddenly, entirely and obviously inappropriate.

“Yes,” she said. “It is.”

She’d meant for the words to come out more forcefully than they had. Marley’s eyes bored defiantly into hers. He knew. He already knew what she hadn’t known herself until just a few seconds before.

That she ached for him.

“I’ve thought about it too.” She heard herself confess. She knew it was terrible, and had barely dared admit it, even to herself, before now. Life as Bowie’s girlfriend had been far harder than she could have ever imagined. Every now and then, awake and alone in the depths of the night, Autumn’s thoughts would wander to Marley, and what might have happened if it had been their paths that had crossed before she and Bowie had met. They’d have slept together that night, she was almost certain, but she had also pondered whether more might have come of it. Perhaps she’d have felt that same sense of familiarity she’d felt with Bowie. Perhaps it would have developed into something more than the one-night stands they were both so used to. Maybe she’d even have become his reason to live.

All at once, they were kissing. It was an unashamedly aggressive kiss, the kind they would not have been able toconceal if someone were to walk into the room. He pushed her back into the sofa cushions and Autumn freed him from his jeans, hitching her legs up around him, and pulling him down on top of her. He tugged frantically at her knickers, his tongue insistently exploring her mouth as he held her close and thrusted deep inside her, still fully clothed. Autumn groaned, lost in him.

“Shh.” She looked up and into his terrified eyes. They were full of regret, but she knew he was beyond regaining control. She implored herself to stop him, but she couldn’t. Instead, she tensed her arms beneath his hands where they were pinning her to the sofa. He held her there and drove himself into her again, stifling her unsatiated whimpering and his own lustful moaning by kissing her.

It was all over in less than three minutes, but it was the most intense sexual experience Autumn had ever had. They had been overwhelmed with lust, and frenzied in the way they had come together.

Immediately after, Marley was rolling off her and standing up. He sat down on the armchair across the room from her and stared at the floor. Autumn broke down into the kind of tears that would usually be accompanied by uncontrollable wailing, but she was too mortified by the idea that they might be discovered to allow herself to make any sound at all.

They stayed that way for hours.

* * *

Autumn crawled back into bed beside Bowie as the sun rose. She stared bitterly at the doorway. Twenty-four hours ago, she’d been sitting right there, her devastatingly sick boyfriend nestled against her neck, telling him, lovingly, that everything was going to be OK. That felt like months ago.

She and Marley had barely spoken before they’d parted. He’d insisted he would never tell anyone and had told her thatshe shouldn’t either. She’d told him that they were horrible people and he’d agreed. Autumn had left the room then, leaving Marley still sitting in the chair in the corner. She’d gone to the bathroom, where she’d sat crying in the shower stall, scalding water raining down on her, for over an hour, trying to wash the smell of him off her skin. When she’d returned to the lounge, he had gone.

Despite her attempts not to disturb him, Bowie woke when he felt her creep into bed.

“Hey, you.” He pulled her in towards him. Autumn turned her face away from his kiss.

“Hello,” she said, feigning sleepiness and willing him to drift back into the slumber she’d pulled him from.

“Where’ve you been?” He yawned.

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