“Is something the matter?”
I pay attention to her hand again, massaging the individual fingers, then moving it close enough to crunch my teeth over her index finger. Not hard, not to bruise or break the skin, just a little crush, so I can experience her with every part of my body that wants to.
She doesn’t draw back, flinch away. When I look directly at her face, she’s staring at me with a perplexed expression, like I’m a puzzle she just can’t solve.
A feeling that might be mutual.
“I went to Kingswood after, but I couldn’t get into the student housing.”
An explanation springs to my lips, but I stop. She doesn’twant me to offer a running commentary, she’s already struggling to explain.
“I saw you with Kari and I…” Her lips tremble and I rub my thumb along the back of her hand, stroking in a circular motion, willing her to speak the rest. “My dad stole the jewellery.”
The jump makes no sense to me. The two things don’t seem at all related. I wait for an explanation, but her eyes are closed, and she’s drifting away from me. Not into sleep, just away. Like a stiff breeze is blowing into her sails while mine lay limp, sagging against the mast.
“There’s always more jewellery,” I say, hearing it’s the wrong thing as soon as the vibrations of my voice hit the air. “Come here,” I add before she can react, pulling her closer. “You can say anything you like to me. I’m not going anywhere.”
She huffs out a breath, then another. Her hand slides up my chest and settles into the curve of my neck. “Do you ever feel like… you made a mistake, early on, and it’s like the universe said, that’s your mistake? That’s the one that no matter how many times you promise you won’t do the same thing again; you will always make it. You can’t learn your way out of it or think your way out of it or fight your way out of it. It’s just your mistake and you’ll repeat it forever until you die.”
Fear hits me and twists immediately into anger. “We’re not a mistake.”
“I used to date a boy, back in Auckland. My first proper boyfriend. He—” George makes a strangled sound deep in her throat and I press my forehead against hers, willing her to keep going. I’m desperate to know what’s happening in that head of hers. Why even when we’re so close, she pulls away.
My breathing falls into a rhythm with hers, my hand strokes her back. I remember her following my instructions, letting mehumiliate her. Remember thinking how she was like my special pet.
A surge of such possessiveness sweeps over me I almost choke. The emotion wrapping around my throat and tugging.
“Would you like me to ask? Would that make it easier?”
She pinches her eyes closed, the moonlight picking out her delicate features and bathing them in silver until she looks carved from stone. She gives a tight nod.
“He forced you to do things you didn’t want to?”
She sputters with a laugh, sounding like the last bits of water to drain from the bath. “Way to go broad.”
“Hey. Don’t insult my questioning ability,” I say, smiling with relief that she’s still here with me, still taking part. “He was dating another girl at the same time.”
It’s a statement, not a question, but she still answers. “Yeah. I didn’t know at first—”
“Well, that’s a bonus point for me, isn’t it?”
Her smile is dazzling. “All the bonus points.” She pinches her lips between her fingers and twists them, letting them go with a faint pop.
“He told you that you weren’t good in bed and there was something wrong with you because he couldn’t make you come.”
She wrinkles her nose but nods again.
“And he used to punish you for making him feel inadequate. He needed to hurt you and he told you it was your fault.” In case she doesn’t yet know, I add, “But it isn’t.”
“H-how do you know all that?”
I stroke a path along the side of her cheek with my fingertip. “Because you’re important to me so I pay attention.”
“It’s not that I… broadcast some kind of signal?”
My voice goes ominously deep. “Like the batman?”
Her giggles are the most desirable soundbite I’d ever heard. Iroll onto my back, taking her with me so we’re lying, belly to belly, her balanced on top.
