“No shagging.”
“Cal.”
“It’s allowed, you know. You’re a human being. You need sex. I get it, but, like. I don’t want to know. Not…”
“Please stop.”
“No, Dad. Because we’re…”
“Yeah, open and honest. Give me some dignity here.”
“Nope.”
He parked the car outside some frightening building, where you definitely couldn’t park.
“If I have to go round the block, I will. Once. I can’t hang around here forever.”
“We’ll be right down.”
I hoped.
“Dad!” he shouted as I reached the door.
“What?” I was nervous. Mildly irritated. Fear. So much fear.
“You still didn’t say it.”
“Fuck.”
“Say it!” he shouted out that goddamn car window. Smiling.
“He’s my…” Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What was wrong with me? I never swore. “He’s my babygirl,” I said. Then I died inside as Cal howled.
“The door code is four four five three.”
Oh. Good to know. He was still laughing out there.
I took the lift. Top floor. His surname was neatly printed on the wall.
I wasn’t nervous. I was… OhGod. Oliver.
He opened the door on the first knock, and then we just stood there. Looking at each other.
“Come in for a sec?” he said.
“Cal’s downstairs, in the car.”
“Won’t take long.” He reached out. Took my hand. And I…I just couldn’t take it. Not like this. I fisted his hoodie and slammed him right into the wall, there in the hallway. My mouth on his. His on mine. Deep, guttural sounds coming through my chest.
Him. Desperation. Anger. Fear.
All mixed with…joy. An overwhelming joy.
“Oliver,” I mumbled in between trying to let him breathe. Kiss after kiss. My hands around his face.
“This…” He was trying to speak. I wouldn’t let him, constantly at his mouth with mine.
“I want this.” Good enough words. All I could manage. And again.
