I cannot move.
‘It was probably a silly idea.’ He’s talking very fast now, tripping over his words. ‘It’s – it’s probably not what you’d have picked out for yourself – guys have the worst taste in this kind of thing. I should have waited and asked you. I should have let you choose, or got something more useful like, um, like – like . . .’
I drag my eyes away from the bracelet again. Despite the cold, Lochan’s cheeks look hot with embarrassment, his eyes radiating disappointment. ‘Maya, look, it really doesn’t matter. You don’t need to wear it or anything. You – you could just keep it hidden at home – for the engraving.’ He gives me an unsteady smile, desperate to shrug the whole thing off.
I shake my head slowly, swallow hard and force myself to speak. ‘No, Lochie, no. It’s – it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned. It’s the most incredible present I’ve ever been given. And the engraving . . . I’m going to wear it all my life. I just can’t believe you did this. Just for me. All that work, night after night. I thought you were going crazy about exams or something. But it was all just to – just to give me—’ I can’t finish the sentence and, holding tightly onto the box, lean towards him, my face pressed against his chest.
I hear him exhale in relief. ‘Hey, you know, the polite thing to do is smile and say thank you!’
‘Thank you,’ I whisper against him, but the words mean nothing compared to what I feel.
He takes the box and lifts my arm from my side. I feel him reach round me and push up the sleeve of my coat. After a few moments of fumbling, I feel the cool silver against my skin.
‘Hey, how’s that? Take a look at it,’ he says proudly.
I take a deep breath, blinking back tears. The intricate silver round my wrist gleams. Against my pulse point rest the words Love you for ever. Yet I already know that he will.
I wear the bracelet all the time. I only ever take it off in the safety of my own room, resting it in the palm of my hand and gazing, enraptured, at the engraving. At night I sleep with the curtains partially opened so the moonlight catches against the metal, making it sparkle. In the dark I feel its indentations with my lips, as if kissing it brings me closer to Lochan.
On Saturday evening Mum surprises us by slamming into the house, her make-up running, hair wet with rain. ‘Oh, you’re all here,’ she sighs, making no attempt to hide her disappointment, standing in the doorway of the front room in an oversized man’s anorak, fishnet stockings and tottery heels. Tiffin is practising head-stands on the couch, Willa is sprawled out on the carpet gazing dully at the TV and I’m attempting to finish my history homework on the coffee table. Kit is already out with his mates and Lochan is upstairs, revising.
‘Mummy!’ Willa leaps up and runs over, holding up her arms for a hug. Mum pats her on the head without looking down, and Willa settles for hugging her legs instead.
‘Mum, Mum, look what I can do!’ Tiffin shouts triumphantly, launching himself into an aerial somersault and knocking my pile of books to the floor.
‘How come you’re not at Dave’s?’ I ask her acerbically.
‘He had to go and rescue his ex-wife,’ she replies, her lip curling in disgust. ‘Apparently she’s now an agoraphobic or something. More like a chronic attention-seeker, if you ask me.’
‘Mummy, let’s go out somewhere. Please!’ Willa begs, hanging onto her leg.
‘Not now, sweetie pie. It’s raining and Mummy’s very tired.’
‘You could take them to the cinema,’ I suggest quickly. ‘Superheroes starts in fifteen minutes. I was going to take them, but since they haven’t seen you in over two weeks . . .’
‘Yeah, Mum! Superheroes sounds well cool – you’ll love it! Everyone in my class has seen it.’ Tiffin’s face lights up.
‘And popcorn!’ Willa begs, jumping up and down. ‘I love popcorn! And Coke!’
Mum manages a tight smile. ‘Kids, I’ve got a splitting headache and I’ve only just got in.’
‘But you’ve been at Dave’s for two whole weeks!’ Tiffin suddenly shouts, his face puce.
She flinches slightly. ‘OK, OK. Fine.’ She shoots me an angry look. ‘You do realize I’ve been working for the past two weeks, right?’
I stare back at her coldly. ‘So have we.’
She turns on her heel, and after an argument over an umbrella, furious yells about a missing coat and anguished wails about someone’s foot being stepped on, the front door bangs shut. I drop my head back against the edge of the couch and close my eyes. After a moment I open them again and smile. They’ve gone. They’ve all gone. This is too good to be true. We finally have the house to ourselves.
I tiptoe upstairs, my heart-rate picking up. I’m going to surprise him. Creep up behind him, slide onto his lap and announce our unexpected window of freedom with a long, deep kiss. Poised outside his bedroom door, I hold my breath and gently turn the handle.
Slowly I push the door ajar. Then I stop. He is not at his desk, head bent over his book as I expected. Instead he’s by the window: one hand fiddling intently with the broken mobile he still thinks he can salvage, the other trying to pull off a sock as he wobbles precariously on one leg. He is half turned away from me so he hasn’t noticed me behind the door and I watch him in amusement as he struggles to remove his other sock, eyes still fixed on the phone’s cracked screen. Then, with a sigh of annoyance, he chucks it onto his bed and, grabbing his T-shirt, pulls it swiftly over his head, his hair emerging comically tousled. Spotting the towel slung over the back of his chair, I realize he is about to take a shower and start to draw back, when something stops me. I’m suddenly struck by how much his body has changed. Always on the skinny side, he has now become more muscular. A slight curve of the biceps, his chest smooth and hairless, not exactly a six-pack but the hint of definition in his stomach . . .
Sneaking up behind him, I slide my arms around his waist and feel him tense.
‘She’s taken them out,’ I whisper in his ear.
He turns in my arms and suddenly we are kissing hard, frantically – no one to stop us, no limit on our time. But instead of making us languorous, it adds a new element of excitement and urgency to the situation. Lochan’s hands shake as he cups my face in them. Between kisses, he pants gently against my cheek and the pain of longing pulses through my whole body. He kisses every part of my face, my ears, my neck. I run my hands up and down the warmth of his bare chest, his arms, his shoulders. I want to feel every part of his body. I want to inhale him. I want him so much, it hurts. He is kissing me so fiercely now he hardly gives me time to draw breath. His hands are in my hair, against my neck, beneath my collar. His bare skin tingles beneath my touch. But there are still too many clothes, too many obstacles between our two bodies. I slip my hand under the top of his jeans. ‘Wait . . .’ I whisper.
His breath shudders against my ear and he tries to kiss my neck but I push him gently away. ‘Wait,’ I tell him. ‘Stop for a second. I have to concentrate.’
As I lower my head, I feel his body tauten in frustration and surprise. I force myself to focus on what I’m doing, careful not to rush. I don’t want to get this wrong, make a mistake, make a fool of myself, hurt him . . .
Undoing the button is easy. Sliding down the zip is less so – on the first try it sticks and I have to draw it back up before sliding it down all the way. But suddenly Lochan is grabbing me by the wrists, wrenching back my hands.
‘What are you doing?’ He sounds incredulous, almost angry.
‘Shh . . .’ I return to his open trousers.
‘Maya, no!’ He is panting hard, a frantic edge to his voice. His hands are between mine now, trying to zip himself up again, but his fingers are fumbling, shaking in shock.