Eleanor tenses. She can feel it. Shit.
Breathe. Don’t react. Don’t think about Tori and maybe it’ll stop.
Eleanor’s silent breath is tickling my throat. Her hand is on my chest. Like Tori’s hand. When we had less on.
Throbbing, heat, fuck, fuck, fuck.
I hear the others’ footsteps, their words in the epilogue. It’s nearly over. Thank God.
And . . . shit. If it’s nearly over, that means Eleanor’s about to roll off me and get up.
Applause rings out. I blink.
Eleanor lifts her head. ‘Want me to stay lying here a bit longer till you’ve calmed down?’
She spoke so softly that only I can have heard, but the blood rushes to my cheeks.
‘Shit, sorry,’ I whisper. ‘It’s not you.’ I pause. Did I just insult her? It’s not that Eleanor isn’t attractive. Oh,God. . .
‘I should hope not,’ she declares cheerfully, getting up. As she does, she glances over to the side and leans down again. ‘Tori really is looking super cute today.’
Cute . . .
I suppress a groan as Eleanor rams a knee into my thigh as she stands.
‘Don’t mention it.’ Her lips form the words soundlessly. I take the hand she holds out to help me up. The pain does help me back to my senses. All the same, I kind of hide behind her as Mr Acevedo showers us all with praise.
Tori’s eyes are on me, gleaming. I want to kiss her. I want to replay the scene with her. I want her to be the one lying on me, and thenIwant to lie on top ofher.There are so many things I want, for fuck’s sake, and I want them now. But the thought also fills me with hot panic as I’ll have to tell her I’ve never done it before.
‘What are you doing later?’ Tori asks, as Mr Acevedo wraps up the rehearsal just before dinner and we pack up.
I’m about to say ‘nothing’ when I remember that it’s Wednesday and I promised to help Dad.
‘Bakery.’ I sigh.
‘Right away?’ Tori asks.
‘After dinner,’ I say.
‘Hm.’ Tori doesn’t look away. ‘I could . . .’
‘Yeah,’ I say, at once. ‘If you want to, that is. You don’t have to. I mean . . .’
‘Shut up, Charlie,’ she whispers, laying her lips on mine.
More heat, more throbbing. I’m pathetic, and I wouldn’t change it even if I could.
We meet the others in the dining room. I eat fast and Tori keeps glancing at me.
‘I’ll come down later,’ she whispers, as we kiss again outside.
TORI
It’s a fresh April evening as I sneak out through the side gate and down to Ebrington. It’s not quite wing time yet, but I’d still rather not be seen. It was hard enough not being spotted by Ms Barnett after dinner as I went up to my room to change my school clothes for something more comfortable.
Charlie hasn’t locked the shop door. He emerges from the bake room as I close it behind me and the bell rings. He’s wearing his dark red apron and he’s got his sleeves rolled up. I want to be kissed by him. He obliges every time he moves from table to counter, weighs ingredients, scrapes out bowls or drags new flour sacks from the cellar.
I was genuinely intending to help him with his work, but let’s be honest here. I spend most of the time staring at his strong forearms and broad shoulders. His hands are covered with flour, and soon so’s my hair. My lips, my cheeks. We’re kissing constantly. Brief kisses in passing, longer kisses where we stand still and slip hands under jumpers. His hands are cool on my belly; his tongue is hot in my mouth. And then my heart stops as he kisses his way across my throat and gently bites into my shoulder. And my body responds.
