CALLUM
In all the times that I imagined kissing Abby, I hadn’t dared to dream it would be so explosive, so fuelled with promise. I spend the remainder of the afternoon walking around Phoenix Park with a loaded gun. My body hums with a longing so intense, I can’t escape it. I only pray that she will now at least stop fighting the inevitable.
Whatever reason she’d chosen to avoid men, I just ripped the plaster from her old wound. Victory’s fleeting, as I risk exposing myself here too. If this is what I think it is, then she isn’t the only one in danger of getting hurt. But it’s a risk I’m compelled to take. I refuse to consider the alternative option, not knowing. I’ve never experienced a want like it. It’s too powerful not to pursue. I have to make her mine, really mine, not this pretend bullshit. That kiss just confirmed it.
The fact that I don’t do relationships isn’t an accident. I deliberately don’t spend any time with my conquests, because I don’t want anything to develop. I didn’t want to like or love any of them before. It’s safer that way. Abby doesn’t realise it, but she has the potential to hurt me. Not in the physical sense, like on the pitch. That pain’s insignificant in comparison to losing someone you love.
Every fibre in my being wills this to be the start of something serious, every ounce of sense in my brain wills it not to be. Intuition warns this could be so much more than anything either of us had experienced before. I’m willing to chance it if she is. It’s progressed way beyond a simple want. That kiss soldered deep, etched onto both of us like a badge of lust-filled honour. She can no longer deny her interest in me, I felt the force of it first-hand. No amount of childhood stage school could have equipped her to fake the kind of sexual energy that charged through both of us this afternoon. There’s nothing pretend about any of this.
With all the mandatory ‘thank yous’ and handshakes I’m obliged to extend, I don’t get anywhere near Abby since that kiss. It doesn’t stop me obsessing about her, mentally replaying her mouth on mine. I’m desperate to pick up where we left off.
Eventually, the crowd clears, the boys round up their families, ready to hit the road. I can’t find Abby anywhere. I search the vicinity eagerly before a sinking realisation dawns on me. I’m not going to find her. Because she’s not here.
I’d come on too strong, terrified her. One step forward, two steps back. Disappointment surges through me, crashing back to reality from the euphoric highs of the day. I return to my empty apartment, alone.
It might be safer for both of our fragile hearts. But I’m done with playing it safe.
