Underneath

By the time we leave, its getting late but I’m not ready to leave him yet. I totally blew all my good intentions in the pool and now I’m in deficit; no way I can invite myself back to his place after that performance

I still have no idea how he really feels about me, If in-fact he feels anything at all beyond ‘I want one.’ Sometimes I feel so at one with him, then I’m worrying again, unsure wether we’ve just got started or wether we’re winding down to the end.

My stomach tightens as we step out into the street, wind whipping wet hair across my face. Before I can meet his eye, he hooks his arm round my shoulders and pulls me with him, we start walking. I slip my arm round his waist and snuggle in, desperate for a physical connection beyond just sex.

Lets not underestimate the sex though! I squeeze my eyes tight making sure the image of him underwater is still intact…its still there and beautiful beyond anything I could ever wish for. Still, I feel a bit down.

One year for Christmas, I asked my parents for a pink Barbie car. Couldn’t believe it when I saw the right size box under the tree Christmas morning. I unwrapped it screaming with delight. Later that day however, I felt sad. Never again would I get to open the Barbie car and feel that excitement, the moment was over.

I was so lost in my own thoughts I hadn’t noticed we’d arrived at his apartment block. He lets go of me, I follow suit. “Hope you’re not complicating things up there?” He asks, knocking gently on my forehead. “You mean this is all simple then?” I ask. He shrugs, smiles and takes my hand…

…upstairs, I still feel wary and fragile, like somethings lying in wait to trip me. He senses it and pulls me in for a hug, “you OK?” he asks smoothing my hair. “Yeah, course!” I try to say, but the words catch in my throat. I feel my eyes brim with tears, what the hell is this? I mustn't cry, I mustn't cry.

He pushes me back so he can see my face. “Chlorine,” I say unconvincingly, “making my eyes sting, I’ll just go to the …” I pull away and quickly head to the bathroom wiping away tears. Once there, I give myself another stern talking to. “Sort your shit out girl!” I command, looking myself in the eye. I look tired, a little faded.

I guess the low over the last few days has got to me. I can’t help but think that he didn't contact me. If we hadn’t ‘bumped’ into each other tonight, would he have ever contacted me again?

I emerge from the bathroom to Harry holding a hoody. “Arms up!” he smiles. It huge, practically down to my knees, but warm and cozy, just what I need.

“So, favourite film?” he asks, leading me to a room with a stupidly large TV. “Hunger Games!” I answer excitedly. “Not the best film ever ever surely?” He asks shaking his head. I shrug, “So whats yours?” I ask flopping down on the huge couch. “First Star Wars,” he says definitively. “I’ve never seen that,” I say offhand, arranging cushions.

Harry looks at me like I’ve just farted or something. “You’ve never seen the first Star Wars?” he says with disbelief. “What? I've never seen the first Star Wars, so what?!” I say flinging a cushion at him. He shakes his head sadly, flicking on the TV. “Lets get you educated girl, this is no good.” He says, and flips the cushion back in my face, grabbing the remote.

“I went to school dude!” I scream in an American accent. “Did you listen to teacher jackass?” he screams back. On the screen, a vast spaceship slides into view, shots blasting off its battle worn surface.

He makes me watch the whole damn thing! Some parts are rerun for me to catch up as he explains the complex world of princesses in peril in the stars. Towards the end, I nod off…

…at some point in the night, I wake. Naked in his bed.

The fragile light in the room is just enough for me to make out his lovely face on the pillow next to mine. I want to touch…but I don't want to wake him either. I force myself to add this image to the photo album I have going in my minds eye. Maybe I'll call it, memories of Harry…

… a shiver rattles through me as I realise the unanswered question still hangs there in the gloom, Would he ever have contacted me again?

Notes