And, of course, he then bops his finger against my nose.
‘I hate that I blush,’ I grumble, knocking away his hand. ‘And I doubt anyone before you would’ve thought, “Aha! So that’s what Heather looks like when she has sex!” Although, if they had, they would’ve been right because, up until today, sex has been an embarrassing, awkward, social misstep from start to not quite ever finishing.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. And yes, that’s what I mean.’ I, Heather Whittington, have, until today, never orgasmed at the hand of a man. Or even thanks to any other bit of one of them. ‘I just thought of sex as a learned behaviour. It just hasn’t worked for me. I thought I’d get it eventually, and then I didn’t. So, then I thought maybe my mind had tied sex to love, sort of like what my parents have. Urgh, make me stop!’ My hands slap the mattress by my sides. ‘I’m lying in bed naked and contemplating my parents. That’s a little sick, right?’ Also, come to think of it, if sex was a learned behaviour, I’d have learned it a long time ago the amount of times I’ve walked in on them at it.’
I turn my head, maybe expecting Archer to be blushing on my behalf. But nope.
‘I don’t think so. Not in this context, but I do think you’re deflecting. As well as doing the whole self-deprecating thing, my little one-time night blooming cactus. It doesn’t have much of a ring to it, does it?’
I sigh so deeply, it’s like air is dragged from the depths of my soul. ‘Anyway, whatever the reason, I’m glad you proved all my theories wrong.’
‘You mean, we did. Together, my little sex bomb. How does that suit you as a term of endearment?’
‘It’s about as endearing as Ebola, frankly. So probably quite well.’
‘Heather.’ He fills my name with such warning. ‘If you belittle yourself once more, I’m going to carry you to the shower and chuck you under the cold. Because whatever the reason, I’m glad it was now. That it was tonight. And yeah, I’m glad it was me.’
I turn my head to face him, reaching to push a dark forelock from his brow.
‘Me, too.’ And then, ‘Can I tell you something?’
‘Sure.’
‘What you said to me earlier, about your life? Your childhood? Hearing it was like a relief. I don’t mean what happened to you because that’s . .. well, I have no words.’ Just like before, Archer’s face closes, his expression neither happy nor sad, but as blank as a beautiful mask. ‘Your life’s experiences are beyond my comprehension, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling sad.’ I feel more than see his tension, and I get that he doesn’t want to talk about any of this, and I know that I’m probably being unfair to unburden myself like this, but it’s like a compulsion, the words spewing forth like a tap I can’t turn off. ‘But what I wanted to say was that I’m glad you told me because, well, I know what it’s like to have to hide horror from people, too.’
‘Heather?’ Archer pushes up onto his elbow, almost looming over me, like he could protect me from what I’m about to say. I don’t look at him for more than a second, instead moving my gaze to stare at the ceiling, studying the swirl of pattern in the lightshade. Are they birds or begonias? The ceiling’s so high, it’s hard to tell.
‘I’m okay.’ I swipe at the sudden wash of tears escaping from the outer corners of my eyes, pooling uncomfortably around my ears. ‘I really am okay. But there’s a reason sex hasn’t worked for me, and that’s because my experiences have always tied to my first time. It wasn’t very pleasant, you see.’ My gaze slides unconsciously to him, darting away instantly. He looks troubled, and I don’t want him to be, because this isn’t a horror story like he told me. This is just a story of a silly girl who didn’t realise what she was doing back then.
‘Heather, sweetheart, speak to me. Is there anything I can do? Can I punch the living daylights out of the person who hurt you?’
‘No.’ I try to smile, but it doesn’t feel right, and end up biting my bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. ‘I wasn’t meant to like you as I do. I was determined not to.’ The words fall in a rush, jumbled and jagged. ‘And I’m sorry I judged you. I shoved you onto the list of men I’d met since then. Men like him. Men who are good with women. Men who manipulate and flatter to get what they want. But I realise that’s not fair. That’s not who you are. You’re nothing likehim.’
‘Who? Tell me who you mean.’ Archer’s question is low and grave.
‘Just a boy. Not much older than me at the time. A boy who liked recreational cannabis, beer, and playing on his PlayStation. I was nineteen. A late bloomer,’ I add with an unhappy little huff. Story of my life. ‘His name was Brent, and I seemed to think that, because he’d slept with most of the girls in my English class, he was the prime candidate to relieve me of my virginity. Ridiculous, right?’
‘We all do stupid stuff when we’re young.’
‘Well, I was ridiculously stupid. I called him after a night out with my cousin, full of bravado and Long Island Iced Tea. I told her I was meeting him.’
‘To lose your virginity?’
‘I didn’t tell her that. I said it was just a hookup. It’s not like she could’ve stopped me. She’s not my mum. So we parted ways and I got on the train, slightly tipsy. It’s funny, she kept me on the phone most of the way to Acton. Because she wanted me to be safe. And Brent met me at the station. We walked to his place, and he gave me a can of lager and we sat on beanbags.’ Oh, God, it was awkward.
‘I didn’t want to. He was unimpressed, like I’d reneged on part of a deal. And I suppose I had—after all, I’d invited myself to his. I cried at the critical moment. He hadn’t stopped to ask why. Then when it was over, he picked up his controller and fired up his game again.’
I felt dirty. And used. And so bloody stupid. And I think feeling stupid was the worst thing about it all.
‘Heather.’ His hand cups my cheek, and I shake it away.
‘No, it’s okay. It probably wasn’t as bad as it sounds. It’s not like I was ra—’ I halt, unable to say the word. Because that’s what happens to other girls. Not to stupid nineteen-year-olds who set out half-drunk, planning to have sex. Those kinds of girls get what they deserve.
‘No, that’s not true.’ Archer’s face is so close to mine, his features are fuzzy and sort of indistinct. I suppose my tears don’t help. ‘You didn’t deserve to have that happen.’
I realise I’d said that aloud. I’d uttered my worst secret, my deepest shame. Out of all the people to purge my sins to, I’d chosen him.
