Saved Between the Sheets: An Anthology of Stories that Get to the Point

by R. M. Walker

  Our cove was only accessed by the rocks when the tide was out, or a steep climb up a cliff path that was more suited to rabbits than me.

  It was tricky getting over the rocks to the cove. But it also meant it was rare for anyone to find the way over. Sometimes kids would swim around, or clamber over the rocks further down, but the tide put many kids off—or more likely their parents.

  Clambering down the other side, I could see him. He’d made a fire pit and was searching the pebbles for the stones Mrs Bindle favoured.

  “Hi!”

  He looked up from poking at some seaweed with a big stick. He raised his hand in a half-hearted gesture and continued to poke.

  What the hell was wrong with him? It was a glorious day, with the promise of a smashing summer weather-wise, and he was gloomier than a turtle without a shell.

  I made my way over to him, spotting a few flat rocks which I picked up.

  “You okay?” I asked, and his answer was a grunt as he lifted a large flat rock. It was hard to find them that size. “Oh, well done.”

  Another grunt came my way, and he walked to the fire pit, placing the rock with his already substantial collection.

  I swiped his stick from where he’d laid it and poked at the fire. “Is it your uncle?”

  “What?” He scowled in my general direction but didn’t make eye contact.

  “Who upset you,” I elaborated, trying hard to resist the sigh working through me.

  “Not this again. No one has hurt me. You’re just cracked, as usual.”

  I refused to let him bait me, I’d fallen for that one before. Not this time.

  “Okay. I’ll do you a deal.” I held out my hand to shake, and he eyed it.

  “What deal?” He looked into my eyes, and I saw a darkness in his I hadn’t seen before.

  “You don’t have to tell me what happened, just tell me who it was.”

  “Why?”

  He didn’t take my hand, but I didn’t lower it either. “So I can beat them up.”

  He blinked, something changed in his face, and he laughed. “You? Beat someone up? What with? Your latest bodice ripper novel?”

  “Shut up. I don’t read them anymore. Besides, I can wield a cricket bat with the best of them,” I retorted, miffed he doubted I could do it.

  “What if I say it was you?” He still ignored my hand. “Would you beat yourself up?”

  “Yes, if I’d hurt you,” I replied. “But it’s not me, Parker, I wasn’t here last week.”

  “You weren’t. You were away.” He looked out to sea, and I lowered my hand, my arm aching.

  My stomach cramped as I studied his profile, doubting myself. Had I said I’d do something for him and then forgotten? Did he ask for something?

  I’d given him his tacky present already. That was when I realised something was wrong, but he denied it. Maybe it upset him, but it was only a snow globe of two kids that had reminded me of us. One was holding the other up while they picked apples from a tree. We’d done that plenty of times, where he’d lift me, and I’d pick them before we’d get run off.

  “Did I forget something? What did I do? Or not do?” I tried keeping my voice level, but he was scaring me. Not even when we argued over something was he this closed off.

  “You didn’t do anything or forget anything. Your imagination is working over-time again, Lo. Write a story, put it to better use.”

  “There is no better use than you,” I snapped. My fear was edged with anger and disappointment. He didn’t trust me enough to let me help him. Or if I couldn’t help, at least to listen to him talk it over.

  But he was making himself clear, and I threw the stick onto the sand. “I thought we were friends. I didn’t realise we weren’t.” I kicked sand onto the fire to put it out.

  “Sit down. Don’t be stupid, of course, we’re friends.” He pulled back when a harder kick sent sand all over his legs and trainers.

  “No, we aren’t.” I continued kicking sand into the pit. “Friends talk to each other; they tell each other when they’re hurt or when someone upsets them. They don’t close themselves off when someone tries to help. And they absolutely don’t make themselves look stupid denying something as obvious as the sun in the sky.

  “What do you want to hear, Lowena?” He flung his hands out, glaring at me.

  Was he really this stupid? Apparently so. “I want to hear who hurt you and why, you numpty!”

  “I did. I upset myself,” he roared.

  It wasn’t what I expected. “That makes zero sense!”

  “It makes perfect sense,” he snapped and stomped towards the rocks.

  Tears slid from my eyes as I watched him stomp off. Fear trickled through me. I couldn’t lose Parker. Not now.

  “Parker,” I called his name. He stopped but didn’t look back.

  Completely out of my depth, I didn’t know what to do, but I had to do something.

  He didn’t move, and taking it as a good sign, I went to him and wrapped my arms around him, my head between his shoulder blades. He stiffened, but I held tightly, not prepared to lose him. I’d lose my dignity and beg before I lost him.

  “I don’t know what to say. Or what’s wrong, but if I hurt you, I’m sorry. I would never hurt you, I’d rather cut off my arm or my tongue before hurting you. I know I can be a pain—”

  “It’s not you.” His voice was gruff, and he patted my joined hands to let him go.

  I clung on tighter, burying my face into his duffel coat and inhaling his scent. He’d exchanged the faint aroma of earth for mountain pine, and I loved it.

  “A lot of words for someone who doesn’t know what to say,” he muttered. “And you’d better not be wiping your nose on the back of my coat.”

  “Not currently,” I replied, pleased to hear a little banter from him.

  “Not ever,” he corrected me, patting my hands again.

  I ignored his unspoken command to let him go. “I want to make it better for you. I don’t like it when you’re upset or hurt.”

  “Nothing happened last week, and no one hurt me.”

  “You’ve changed, though,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “I don’t want to lose our friendship. I don’t want to lose you.”

  He pried my hands free and stepped forward. I hoped he’d turn and look at me. He just stood there, his head down, the sea breeze teasing the long strands of his hair. It was so unlike him panic crept in with my anger.

  “What did I do?” I demanded, clenching my fists.

  “Nothing!” He rounded on me. “Not everything is about you.”

  My heart sank at his words and my stomach ached. I talked a lot, but he’d never complained or told me to shut up. Maybe he’d never had the nerve to tell me to get lost. Maybe it was one-sided, had always been one-sided, and he tagged along because there was no one else.

  My breath caught in my throat. I’d heard the expression ‘feels like the rug being pulled out from under your feet’, but I’d never realised how true it was. I was floundering, unbalanced, and terrified where I’d fall. I’d never been so unsure of myself or him.

  His shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand through his hair. “Lo, I don’t—”

  “You should have—” My throat closed, tears flooded my eyes, and I turned, unwilling to let him see me cry.

  “Should’ve what?” he demanded.

  It was my turn to remain silent.

  “What, Lo? What should I have done?” he snapped.

  I wasn’t brave enough for this. I was a coward and I hadn’t realised how much my world revolved around him. He was my best friend, but it was more than that, and I was only seeing it now that I was losing him.

  I texted him first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Every day. He never texted me. The week I was away I didn’t text, and he didn’t text me either. It was sinking in how one-sided our friendship was. I saw him, but I didn’t ‘see’ him.

  “Come on, Lowena, answer me.” He stepped in front of me. His eyebr
ows drawn into a scowl, his lips tugged down at the corners.

  I still had no words, but I no longer cared if he saw the gleam of tears in my eyes. I was blanketed in devastation, and it made everything grey.

  He caught my upper arms and glared at me. “What should I have done?”

  I wrenched away, finding my voice. “You should have told me to get lost.” I squeaked at the end, but it broke the damn on my tongue. “You should have told me you didn’t want to be my friend. You should have told me I was too much for you, talked too much, too noisy. You should—”

  He caught my arms again and pressed his lips against mine. Taken by surprise, I stared into his eyes as he held still, his lips against mine.

  His eyes widened, and he stepped back, breaking contact. He looked as surprised as I felt.

  “I never wanted you to get lost,” he mumbled, colour flooding his cheeks. He peered at me through his fringe, his head tilted down.

  “I—” My words failed me again as my brain tried to process why he’d kissed me. My stomach flipped and a peculiar sensation touched my heart.

  “You were never too much for me.” He shrugged. “Yeah, you talk too much, but I don’t care.”

  “Parker, you kissed me,” I blurted.

  “Yeah, figured it would shut you up.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  My world rocked under my feet. Not from fear, but from his kiss and what I’d been blind to. How I really felt about him.

  “You could just tell me to shut up,” I murmured.

  “Not what I wanted to do.” He shook his head, his dark hair dancing in the breeze and his brown eyes watching me.

  I was on the edge of something I had no name for. I could step forward and fall off or step back and never know what this was. I was never one for backing off.

  “I don’t mind if you shut me up like that.” I studied his face, my heart hammering a mile a minute.

  “Yeah?” He stepped closer, his hand on the back of his neck still. “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “No.” I held my breath.

  He moved to touch my cheek, changed his mind, and dropped his hand to his side. He took another step closer, and I had to look up to see his face. Placing his hands on my shoulder, he lowered his head until I could feel his warm breath washing over my skin. The urge to close the distance was almost overwhelming, but he had to make the first move. I itched to touch his hair, so I stuffed my hands into my pockets. His lips brushed mine, and my eyes closed at the sensation.

  I’d never kissed a boy. I knew how, in theory, but my thoughts fled as a host of butterflies took up residence in my stomach.

  He moved his hands to my head, tilted it and gave me tiny pecks. I pecked back and almost giggled as I imagined chickens pecking at grain. But then he swept his tongue over my closed lips, and I wasn’t ready for the rush of tingles that covered me from head to toe. I grabbed his waist, gasping, and he pulled back his head.

  “Again?” he asked.

  “Again.”

  His lips were back on mine, and we spent hours learning how to kiss each other. Soft pecks, open-mouthed kisses, sloppy kisses as our tongues danced. Our teeth knocked together, our noses bumped, and we laughed breathlessly before going back for more.

  Why hadn’t I kissed Parker before?

  When we came up for air, he turned me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I leant against his chest, my head on his shoulder. We were facing the sea, and it surprised me how high the tide was. We’d need to leave or go back the hard way. Neither of us moved.

  “Now will you tell me what happened last week?” I ventured.

  His laughter rumbled against my back, and he kissed my temple. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too. I always do.”

  “Is this—?”

  “What?” I twisted my head sideways to look at him.

  “What does this mean? You and me. I didn’t know how you felt. I mean… I thought it would ruin everything.”

  I turned in his hold and hugged him, my ear resting against his chest. “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

  “I’ve been waiting for you to meet someone at college. You know Rod likes you, don’t you?”

  “He asked me out,” I revealed.

  He stiffened. “When?”

  “End of year dance.”

  “But you went with me.”

  “Of course, silly. I didn’t want Rod. I wanted to go with you.” I stepped back to look at him. “I’ve never realised.”

  “What?”

  “It’s you, Parker. It’s always been you. I just didn’t have a name for it.”

  “And you do now?” Nerves showed in his eyes, matching my own.

  “I do.” I nodded. He’d made the first move and kissed me, now I had to do this. “I love you. I’m in love with you.”

  He searched my eyes, his smile growing by the second. “I love you, Lo. I’ve been in love with you since I saw you in that stupid graveyard with garlic around your neck and holy water in your unicorn drinks bottle.”

  “I had spots, braces, and girl’s diseases.” I laughed.

  “Did you?” He kissed my spot free nose. “I didn’t notice.”

  “You did when I hugged you!” I dug my fingers into his sides, knowing his ticklish spots.

  He jerked back, capturing my hands as he laughed. “I was fourteen. You scared me.”

  “I scared you?” My laughter faded. “Why?”

  “Because I know what loss feels like and I couldn’t face losing you too.”

  He stole my breath, my heart, and my soul.

  I would belong to Parker until I took my final breath.

  ***--***--***

  Four months later...

  “Here, take my hand.” Parker reached down.

  I seized hold. “Where do you want me to take it? Won’t you miss your hand?”

  He hauled me up the rocks. “Funny girl,” he deadpanned.

  I grinned at him and made my way down the other side into our cove. He followed me and grabbed my hand as we ambled along the beach. Neither of us spoke. A silence between us that was recent. An intense anticipation, a nervous energy which sparked every time we touched.

  Under the steep cliffs was a narrow cave set into the rocks. Parker had to lower his head to avoid hitting it, but I didn’t have that problem. We’d played in here as kids, and we’d made out here frequently. So, it felt right we’d take the next step in our relationship here.

  Parker took a blanket from his backpack and spread it on the sand, using rocks to hold the corners in place. I knelt next to him, looking out to sea. I’d never tire of this ever-changing view. He lay on his side, his head resting on his hand. I cast him a sideways glance before watching a flock of seagulls wheeling and squawking over a fishing boat heading to harbour. A container ship on the horizon looked like a toy boat it was so small.

  “Hey, Earth to Lowena.”

  I turned to him, and he got to his knees, his eyes searching mine.

  “I don’t want to do anything to hurt you,” he assured me.

  “You won’t. We’ve talked about this…” I shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I talked, and you nodded. Have I forced you into this?”

  He chuckled, caught my face in his palms and melted me with his kisses.

  “Did you bring them?” I asked.

  He smirked at me, and my stomach flipped as my toes curled in my trainers.

  “I tried one last night,” he said, taking out a box from the backpack. “Make sure I get it on right.”

  “How?” I took the box from him to read.

  “How? Well, Lo, I thought of you”—he whispered—”taking off your clothes for me.”

  His words made my stomach contract and I wanted to hear more.

  “And?” I prompted him.

  “And—I got hard.” He rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Lo.”

  “Very hard? Or semi-hard?” I teased.

  His eyes narrowed, and a smirk tugged his lips.


  “You can find out for yourself,” he offered. “We’re alone here.”

  I arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you suggesting I take my clothes off?” A shiver of excitement went through me.

  “Slowly.” He nodded, his grin wicked. “Up you get.”

  I got to my feet, and the expression in his eyes took my nerves and blew them away on the sea breeze.

  “Where do I start in this imagination of yours?”

  “Your jacket.”

  I undid my jacket, and he shuffled onto his butt, stretching his legs out and leaning on his elbows.

  “Like this?” I let the jacket slide down my arms and pool around my feet.

  “Yep. Keep going, babe.”

  I grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and tugged it up an inch. With no bra on, the cool air had already pebbled my nipples. But the way he studied me sent lust streaking through me. I gathered the material higher, revealing the underside of my breasts and his breath hitched. Tugging it over my head, I dropped it on the blanket. His gaze was riveted to my breasts, and I cupped them to see what he’d do. He growled, palming himself through his jeans.

  “Undo your jeans,” he directed, his voice deeper and huskier than usual.

  My toes clenched as heat tingled up my legs. Knowing he was watching and ordering me what to do was turning me on.

  I unfastened the button, and he adjusted himself again.

  “I can’t see,” I husked. “How can I tell you’re hard if I can’t see?”

  He grinned, his hair falling into his eyes. Moving swiftly, he yanked his shirt off, followed by his jeans and boxers.

  My mouth went dry. He was still lanky, but his abs were tight and there was a smattering of hair leading from his navel to his groin. He’d been semi-hard when he drew his boxers off but the chilly breeze made him shrink.

  “Now what?” I asked, eyeing his limp cock.

  “Jeans off.” Parker was a man of few words.

  I wriggled, tugging them off but still in my knickers.

  “Fucking gorgeous, Lo.” He fisted his hard cock, and a surge of power raced through me at his reaction. He went from limp to hard in the time it took me to take off my t-shirt and jeans, and if that wasn’t an ego booster, I didn’t know what was.