“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said.
Patrick let go of his hair. “You can’t beat me at pinball, let alone hurt me. And if you’re worried about stealing my innocence or some shit, I played AFL for three years before we even met. Doing you wasn’t my first rodeo.”
The flash of hurt across her face told him he’d said the wrong thing. He was sure she was going to try to hurt him back, and sure enough…
“You’re not my first rodeo either, Patrick. I’ve been with plenty of guys, and I know what boys like you are like—”
“Boys like me?”
Her dark eyes flashed. “Yes. You think because you play footy—”
“I don’t think anything!” he said, his hands leaping back into his hair. “You’re the hottest girl in the world! You’re out of my league and everyone knows it. Willow. Derek. Eden. Everyone. You’re fucking… Scarlett Johansson and I’m some asshole from Perth with half a psych degree who can kind of kick a ball straight if the wind’s right. If I didn’t play footy, I wouldn’t be able to get near you. I know that.”
“Patrick…”
“Don’t! The fact is, I am near you. I’ve been near you for almost four years. And you want me. You want my dick. You want to be my fucking girlfriend, so shut up and do what I say because I’m sick of not fucking you every single night.”
His words rang around the kitchen. He wondered if any windows were open and his neighbours were recording Patrick Normal, AFL star, telling a woman he wanted to rail her.
Fuck it. He pointed at Cheryl. “You’re mine. It’s done. We’re together. You’re gonna sleep in my bed and come with me to football stuff and get over this thing about how old I am, and we’re gonna be fucking happy. And if I ever, ever, see you questioning how I feel about you, I’m gonna burn the planet to the ground.”
Cheryl’s upper lip quirked. “The whole planet?”
The pressure in the room seemed to vanish. The lid lifted from a boiling pot.
“The whole fucking planet,” he said, fighting back a grin. “Some of the others too. Venus. That’s been doing nothing.”
She laughed, a real laugh, and then they were just… together. He felt it. Felt her bend like a reed in the wind to the idea that this could work. He walked around the table, came as close as he could without touching her, and knelt at her feet. She stared down at him, lower lip trembling. “I’m so scared.”
“I know.” He took her freezing fingers between his. “What can I do to make you feel safe?”
She shook her head.
“Try me, please. Or I’ll start yelling about how you want my dick again.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” Her smile vanished. “I don’t want to upset you…”
“You can’t. As long as you stay here and talk to me, you just fucking can’t.”
She gnawed her lower lip. “Control.”
“What do you need to control?”
“You. Me. How we are together. Everything. Ever since the boat party, I feel like I don’t have any control and it’s driving me crazy.”
“What kind of control would make you feel better?”
“Everything.”
“I’m gonna need you to be a little more specific, KitKat?”
“When we see each other,” she blurted out. “When we talk. How fast this moves. Who knows about us. Who doesn’t know. What we put on the internet. All of it.”
“Okay, what about sex?”
“What does that have to do…?”
“Last time you were pretty into me controlling you. Is that gonna change?”
