Page 63 of Oar Than Friends

‘Do they know?’

He nodded, ‘Yeah, but in fairness I told them about you the day after we first met, because I was totally smitten and couldn’t stop thinking about you.’

‘Oh. Okay,’ I replied mindlessly, not really hearing the rest of his sentence.

The only thing going round in my mind was that this was easier for him; he was already an accomplished and decorated rower, not to mention a third year. He was leaving school in six months, I had six years to go before I finished.

‘Kate,’ he shook my shoulders gently, ‘it’ll be fine, you’ll see. In fact, I have something I want to show you, and something I want to ask you.’

‘Oh?’ I perked up. ‘What is it?’

‘Surprise, come on.’ He picked up his bucket, filled with all our cleaning products, and took my hand in the other.

I followed him along the route we’d taken last time, except instead of going left down to the riverbed, we turned right into a little clearing I hadn’t noticed before, filled with evergreen bushes which ran along the side of the path hiding us from the view of anyone passing by. On the far end of the clearing was a wall, which I realized was the other side of what we’d been cleaning last week.

‘What are we doing? I don’t think this is where we’re supposed to be. There’s nothing to clean.’ I looked around, not noticing how Oz had put the bucket on the ground and was walking me backward until I’d hit the wall and his massive body bracketed me in. ‘What’s going on?’

His fingers hooked under my chin, tilting it until my entire vision was filled with him. His eyes, the soft stubble coating his jaw, the way his thick lashes fanned out at the edges while he stayed gazing at me, unblinking. His irises were so clear I could almost see my reflection in them,and if Ihadbeen able, all that would have stared back was a girl utterly mesmerized, blatantly wanton, and totally unrecognizable.

‘We’re going to the river in a minute, but first, I’m going do what I should have done in September. Unless you have any objection.’ His eyes narrowed, as if almost daring me to stop him.

My top lip twitched as his head dipped closer to mine. A freight train could’ve been bearing down on me, and I still wouldn’t have moved a muscle.

The air around me stilled until I could hear nothing but the deafening silence echoed by my own thudding heart. Every sensation magnified itself a thousand times; my chest heaved until the point of hyperventilation as the pads of his fingertips ran across my brow, pushing under the wool of my beanie and into my hair.

I’d woken up late this morning, tired from a long week and an even longer call with my mom last night, where she’d told me at length about a pie she’d baked with this fall’s blackberries, so I’d only had time to braid my hair in two while we travelled to London. As always, it was never neat enough or together enough, and all the pieces which had come loose he gently pushed behind my ear. Lifting the end of one braid, he brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply.

‘I’ve been smelling this citrus scent wherever I go, like it’s been buried in my memory since the day we met. Even when you’ve not been around, I could sense it almost. It’s become my new favourite smell.’

His smile had my belly doing a little flip thing, tilting back and forth like when you’re cresting the top of arollercoaster and it’s going to tip any second. That point where you don’t know if your stomach is going to cave in.

The way his eyes were twinkling at me, made me feel I should probably give him an admission too.

‘Funny you should say that …’

‘Oh?’

‘That sweater of yours.’ I stopped talking, biting down on my top lip instead as I decided maybe my admission wasn’t such a good idea, because remembering my shampoo was one thing, sleeping with a sweater under your pillow was quite another.

‘I hope you’ve been looking after it. That’s my favourite sweater. I’ve missed it.’

‘I have,’ I nodded slowly, crumbling under the weight of his stare as he waited for me to finish. ‘It’s been under my pillow.’

His eyebrows shot up, and he stepped back slightly as if to look at me properly, but his hands stayed holding the ends of my braids as he flicked the strands between his finger and thumb.

‘Really?’

I nodded.

‘You’ve been sleeping with it?’

I nodded again, trying to divert any attention away from the trembling making its way through my body, knowing my face was now pink. Or purple like my mom’s blackberry pie.

‘You have no idea how hot that is to me.’ His voice had dropped an octave; his eyes had turned a cloudy grey, the exact colour of the storm swirling around my bones. He moved in a fraction, closing the final vestiges of spacebetween us, and when he spoke next, I could almost taste the cinnamon gum on his breath. ‘Kate Astley, since the second we got interrupted, all I’ve been able to think about is finishing our kiss. It’s become quite the problem for my professors, when I can’t get through a simple Greek tragedy.’

I crooked a brow at him, trying to lighten the tension with humour. Lighten something at least, because I felt like I was about to burst from whatever was thundering through me. ‘What? I thought you only had an hour a week of study?’

‘I do,’ he grinned, devilishly. ‘So now you know how much time I’ve had on my hands to think about you, and our first kiss.’

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