“No, it’s okay,” Giles says thoughtfully like he’s still considering what to say. “I… I want to answer honestly.”
“Okay,” I say and wait.
“I think it’s around…” He meets my eyes and I see something I don’t know I’ve ever seen there before: nerves. “One hundred.”
“One hundred?” I blurt.
“And thirty,” he adds.
“Oh. Right.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, of course not,” I say. Because of course it isn’t. It’s actually got nothing to do with me.
“You seem a bit shocked, or, I don’t know, not very happy about it.”
Hearing him say that brings a dull stabbing pain to my chest. I never want Giles to think I’m not happy with him, because, fuck, I’m just this second realising, I always am happy with him.
“I’m not shocked. I mean, I am shocked in that that’s a lot of people and on a completely different level from my, what do the young ones call it these days, body count? But then I’m also not shocked because look at you.Lookat you. And you’re successful and confident and got your shit together. It makes sense you’ve had a lot of… partners.”
“I’m not sure that actually correlates. In my mind, if I had my shit together, maybe I would have had fewer partners but they would have stuck around longer.”
It’s another comment that intensifies the dull ache inside my ribs. “What do you mean by that?” I wrap my arms around his waist.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “So you’re not put off?”
“Not at all. I’m just…” I pause because this is the crux of the issue. This is why I asked in that spontaneous and, with hindsight, totally unnecessary way. “I’m just feeling like I’ll disappoint you. There’s no way I can match that kind of experience.”
Giles smiles down at me, his moustache twitching. “Who says that all those fucks were good? Who says that none of them were disappointing? Who says that I enjoyed all those partners? And also, isn’t that why you’re here? To learn?”
It’s the reminder I need, but when that dull stabbing sensation sinks to the pit of my stomach I realise it’s the reminder I don’t want.
“Yeah, that’s true. That’s why I’m here,” I say in a quiet voice.
“Maybe you need some feedback,” Giles says and he rolls off me so he’s lying on his side, propped up on his elbow. “A good teacher should have given you feedback by now.”
“Like a report?”
“Sure, I can do that.” He places a hand on my chest, between my soft pectoral muscles that I stupidly thought last night were looking more defined but as they line up next to Giles’ they feel anything but. Not that Giles seems to mind as he starts to play with the hair there, his finger stroking and combing his way through it. “What’s your surname?”
“My surname? Why do you need that?”
“It feels more appropriate for a school report.”
“A school report? Jesus, I’ve never had a good one of those.” I snort.
“Well, things can change.”
“Donati,” I tell him. “That’s my surname.”
Giles clears his throat with something like authority but continues to run his fingers through my chest hair. His eyes stay fixed on his hand’s movement. “Marcello Donati is an enthusiastic, energetic and conscientious student. He shows considerable initiative while also being willing to take guidance quickly on board. I have been pleased to see him undertake his own research, and have been impressed with his willingness to commit to the lessons and what they entail. Marcello regularly displays kindness and consideration during practical assignments and even goes so far as to make his teacher feel at ease, when required. What Marcello lacks in experience he more than makes up for in passion, initiative and readiness to learn.”
Giles eyes lift to meet mine and for a second I get lost in their sea swirling tones. “To end, Marcello should be very proud of everything he has achieved thus far and shouldn’t have a single worry about how successful he is or will be, because his performance to date has been more than satisfactory.”
I blink at Giles, several times. And then I smile so hard my cheeks hurt.
“Can you write that down? I need to show it to my mum. It’s like the school report she never got but always wanted for me.”
