I hold up my half-eaten plant burger. “Ellis, I swear, there is no bribe that you can invent that will persuade me to attend what Mike and I have long-dubbed the Dipshits Ball.”
“What if I re-enacted our driving lesson from the supermarket car park?”
It’s tempting, but… “No. I still have the gearstick bruise on my arse.”
“Then what if I tickled you in that place you like? For an hour.”
I open my mouth then shut it again. Crap. He’s good at this. But…
“No deal. Anyway, I’m not ticklish down there any more.”
“Then what if I…?”
He leans in and whispers in my ear.
I drop the sandwich.
“You are a very evil temptress, Ellis Maximillian Bell.”
“I know.”
Afterwards, El tells me I’ve cheated. I’ve allowed myself to be pleasured by a master at the absolute pinnacle of his powers (and, seriously, I can’t argue with that) but I still won’t promise him we can go to the dance tomorrow. I tell him that he is a skilful lover but a poor negotiator. He ought to have secured my agreement before giving me a sample of his wares. If he wishes to present his case again for the Dipshits Ball, well, I will consider any new proposal he has to offer. He laughs and snuggles his head into the crook of my shoulder.
We stay like that for a while. At some point during El’s magic-making I thought I’d heard the screech of the rooftop door, but it’s quiet now. Anyway, no one’s started shrieking about two sixth-formers up on the roof getting busy, so I’m assuming we got away with it. A few lazy blackbirds circle overhead, eyes on my weed burger. We ignore their caws and turn to our second favourite subject: plans for summer and uni.
We rehearse this same conversation every couple of hours. He tells me about the gigs he’s excited to attend in July, I tell him about the comic-book convention in August. We then discuss his idea for a mural in our little living room in Bristol and he asks my opinion on the right colours for the bedroom. “The bedroom’s your department,” I tell him, and he grins. I try to act all nonchalant during these talks, but every time I think about our future together…yup, my stomach flips. So I just lie there on the prickly gravel and listen like an enchanted child to these amazing stories of times yet to come.
Suddenly I roll sideways and kiss him hard.
“Wow! What was that for?”
“For forever,” I say.
His eyes cut away. “Forever’s a long time, Frecks.”
I take his chin and draw him back to me.
“Are you giving up on me already?”
“No way.”
“So we’ll be together forever then,” I tell him, and start to spin my own future histories now. He snuggles in and listens. “There were once these two boys, Ellis and Frecks, and they fitted together so well no one could ever tear them apart. They lived and studied together, and after university they went and found a place for themselves in a huge city where they made new friends and partied hard. But they worked hard too. And after a few years they decided that, although they were totally happy just the two of them, they might have room for some little people.” I look at him, because we’ve never talked about kids and stuff, but he smiles this contented, lazy smile, so I continue. “So one day Ellis and Frecks and their little people all decide that their love is so fucking huge and immense—”
“Shhh,” he says. “No swearing in front of the kids.”
“I’m sorry. But they all think,We’d like to show the whole world how special our family is. So they invite all their family and friends…”
“Aunt Julia,” El sighs. “And we buy her an amazing dress.”
“And maybe even Chris.” I nod.
“If we must.”
“But before the invites are sent out—”
“Designed by me, with the little guys’s handprints on them, like butterflies.”
“Ellis, who’s telling this story?”
