Part 10 (1/2)

And yet...

He misses me.

Tom reaches out for a hug and I go with it, putting my arms around him, resting my face on his shoulder and finally, finally letting myself breathe in the smell of him. A moment longer and I'll pull away, break the contact.

It feels good, standing here on the b.a.l.l.s of my feet, my nose pressed into the material of his top.

A second later he kisses me on the cheek.

I kiss his cheek in return.

He kisses me again, not on the safe skin on the apple of my cheek, but in the no-man's-land towards my lips.

I turn my face closer and kiss him in the same place, my lips soft, the touch a little lingering, and when I pull back, I don't turn my face any further, but rest it there, my nose so close to his jaw he must be able to feel my wavering breath on his skin.

Tom turns. It's only a fraction of a degree but enough for the skin of his lower lip to brush against mine. There isn't a sound between us as each of us hold our breath, waiting.

Did you ask about his girlfriend?

I don't think I need to.

RUBY.

Apparently I went back to sleep, because I'm jolted awake by voices outside the tent.

It's Lee and I shuffle out of my sleeping bag, wanting to tell him what's happened, because telling Lee always makes things better, but the zip's only halfway open when I stop.

Opposite, Lee is in Owen's arms, the pair of them so closely wrapped around each other that they seem like one person, not two. Their faces are turned inwards, Lee's pressed into Owen's neck, Owen's hidden in my brother's hair. Even in the near-dark, I can see the muscles standing out on Lee's arm as he pulls Owen to him.

I do the zip back up, not wanting to intrude. It's enough to know that some of us are capable of fixing our f.u.c.k-ups.

KAZ.

It doesn't feel the way I remember it ... it's subtly different ...

it feels better ... like he's been practising with someone else ...

and I don't want it to stop ... I should say something ...

but I pull away and look at him.

The half-light dims the contours of his face, softening what I see. His breathing is slow and heavy, and his eyes watch my lips. Neither of us says anything as he pulls me down the hill and towards where he's camped.

It's as deserted here as it was at ours and we ghost into his tent, Tom pulling me down against him, our bodies pressed together, fused by a kiss. Everything about this is urgent, as if there'll never be another chance so different from all the months of hushed fumbling under the covers or on the sofa. When Tom leans over me, my spine curls to press as much of my body into his as possible. Our breathing has escalated from heavy to ragged as Tom lifts away from my mouth to kiss my cheek, working across to my earlobe, where the sound of his breath engulfs everything else.

There's no hesitation when his hand runs firmly up the bare skin of my thigh, under my dress and into my knickers and I'm tugging at his top, his belt, his trousers until he's naked next to me...

”Your turn,” he breathes into my ear, his tongue brus.h.i.+ng down my neck and across my collarbone to my cleavage. I unzip my dress, the material falling away until he's kissing skin that's not seen the sun.

My bra is off within seconds, his fingers twisting the clasp as if he's been doing it for years.

I've lost control of my body, let alone my brain, but Tom pulls something out of the side pocket of the rucksack my head's resting on.

It's a condom.

Nine months of talking and, in the end, when we actually do it, neither of us says a word.

RUBY.

When I wake up next I'm thirsty.

”Kaz?” I croak, hoping that I won't have to look for my own water supply.

There's no reply and I turn my head to see her empty sleeping bag.

I don't have the energy to find a cup for myself and I let myself get pulled under the surface of the sleep that's lapping at my brain, wondering how long it's been since she left me.

KAZ.

As soon as it's over, Tom rolls away from me and all the things that have been masked by a soft-focus haze of l.u.s.t and adrenalin become real and sharp and harsh. The elastic thwap as he pulls off the condom, the chill of the canvas my arm's resting against, the cramped tent and the smell of what's just happened, sweat and deodorant, the drinks Tom's had. I realize how naked I am, how tight and sore.