by Paige Toon
‘OK,’ she concedes.
‘Hey, can I put the seats down?’ Jack asks him as his sister pulls another layer of clothing over her head.
‘Steady on,’ Brett replies, his eyes darting between us at the idea of Jack making up the bed.
‘As if!’ I exclaim, outraged, giving Jack a look of, ‘What the hell are you thinking?’
‘I’m going to take a nap,’ he says firmly. ‘I thought you were tired, too,’ he adds for my benefit.
Brett chuckles. ‘Course you can,’ he says, putting his arm round Agnes and leading her away. She throws me a look over her shoulder. I can’t decipher it so I don’t try to.
Jack is already putting the back seats down so they lie flat. There’s something about the sight of him doing that that makes me feel intensely skittish. I try not to let it show as I help him unroll a thin mattress from the boot so it lies flat across the now quite large expanse. He kicks off his scuffed Chelsea boots and falls onto his back, letting out a long sigh as he lets his left arm fall across his eyes.
I tentatively take off my own shoes and lie on my stomach beside him. I find myself scrutinising his POW! tattoo, wondering if it hurt.
‘You still planning on getting one?’ he asks, making me jerk my eyes up to see him regarding me from the shadow cast by his arm.
‘Maybe,’ I reply with a shrug. ‘I bet Stu wouldn’t let me,’ I say wryly, ‘but Johnny might.’
He reaches behind him and bunches up the pillow, resting back against it with his arm behind his head. ‘It would be pretty hypocritical if he didn’t,’ he says. Johnny has loads of tattoos. ‘What would you get?’ he asks.
I smile shyly. ‘I was thinking about noughts and crosses.’
He nods. ‘That would be cool.’
‘Mum and I used to play it when I was little,’ I tell him. ‘I don’t know, maybe it would look crap.’
He sits up, a look of determination on his face, and then he crawls across the mattress to the front of the car, leaning over the passenger seat to open the glovebox. He returns with a black biro and a big smile.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask with a laugh, as he takes my hand.
‘Where do you want it?’ he enquires cheekily, his touch making my skin burn.
‘Here,’ I say, pointing to the inside of my forearm, just above my wrist.
‘It really hurts there,’ he warns seriously. ‘How about here?’ He points to the outside of my arm.
‘Go on, then.’
He props himself up on his elbow and starts to draw.
‘Ow,’ I say, pretending to flinch.
He laughs under his breath. ‘Do you wanna tell me where to put the noughts and crosses?’
‘Cross in the top left.’
He draws a cross.
‘Nought underneath it.’
He draws a nought.
‘Cross at the top in the middle.’
My arm is tingling where he’s touching me, and I can still feel where his pen has been.
‘Nought top right,’ I continue, as I mentally play the game in my head. There was a certain sequence Mum would allow me to play that would mean I couldn’t lose. Suddenly she’s looking back at me inside my mind, her caramel-coloured eyes twinkling as she pretends she doesn’t know I’m about to win. My voice wavers as I tell him where to go next. ‘Cross in the middle.’ He glances up at me quickly, just in time to see tears spring into my eyes.
‘Hey,’ he says gently, putting the pen down and sitting up.
‘It’s OK.’ I shake my head quickly. ‘I don’t want to cry. Say something to cheer me up.’
‘Damn. Pressure,’ he jokes. ‘Shall I give you a different tattoo?’
‘Go on, then,’ I reply with a shaky smile.
‘How about…’ His voice trails off as his eyes skim slowly over the length of my body. Crying is instantly the last thing on my mind. ‘Here,’ he says finally, dragging the end of the biro down my neck and tapping my collarbone. ‘You’ll have to turn over,’ he says. I inadvertently shiver, but do as he says, shifting to lie on my back.
He leans in close and pulls my hoodie down.
‘What are you drawing?’ I ask nervously. I can feel his breath on my neck.
‘You’ll see,’ he murmurs.
I fight the urge to squirm because the pen is tickling me.
‘Stay still or it’ll hurt,’ he berates me like a real tattoo artist might.
‘What are you doing? It’s taking ages!’ I exclaim after a bit.
‘Patience is a virtue,’ he mutters.
I stare at him furtively from beneath my lashes. He’s so close to me and there’s a look of concentration on his brow. I have an immediate and very pressing urge to reach up and smooth the lines away.
His eyes meet mine, and I feel like I’ve been given an electric shock. His pen pauses against my neck and he doesn’t look away, nor can I tear my gaze from him. He moves slightly towards me and hesitates, but I’m completely frozen, our eyes locked in a stare that I have no hope of breaking. I hear him draw in a sharp breath and then he’s lowering his mouth to mine.
He kisses me tantalisingly slowly, his tongue slipping between my lips and making my head spin as shivers rocket uncontrollably up and down my spine. My hands fly up to his face and I pull him passionately towards me, kissing him more fervently and without restraint. He attacks my mouth in response, shifting so his body is half covering me, his leg between mine. His hands cup my face, his fingers, calloused from playing the guitar, tangle in my hair as he clasps me to him, kissing me like I’ve never been kissed before. Ever.
He breaks away on a gasp and we pant into each other’s mouths and then he kisses me slowly again before proceeding down to the hollow of my neck.
Somewhere, distantly, a niggling voice grows louder until it’s screaming in my head: TOM!
‘No!’ I press my hands against his chest and shove. He goes willingly, reeling backwards into a kneeling position.
All of the blood in my body rushes to my face.
What have I done?
I’ve just cheated on Tom.
Lovely, kind, decent, trustworthy Tom. A boy who was there for me when I needed him.
‘Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God,’ I say, over and over again, covering my face with my hands. ‘Oh, God…’
‘Stop it,’ Jack says quietly, steadily.
‘No, no, no, no, no,’ I groan miserably.
‘Stop it,’ he says again, and then his hands are on mine, drawing them down from my face.
‘I can’t…’ I shake my head. I can’t look him in the eye.
‘Jessie,’ he says softly. ‘It’s OK.’
‘It’s not OK!’ I all but shout, glaring at him as I snatch my hands away. ‘I’ve just cheated on my fucking boyfriend, for crying out loud!’
He looks shocked.
‘And you’ve just broken your promise!’ I add for good measure, pointing at him accusingly.
He sighs and looks away. My head is spinning. How could I have done that? I’m as bad as Isla, and Tom never forgave her. How could I have let him down so badly?
My eyes fill with tears and a lump lodges itself in my throat. I’m such a bitch. He could’ve been killed thanks to me and now I’m throwing this at him, too?
‘Don’t get upset,’ Jack says, pressing his fingertips to my face.
‘Don’t touch me,’ I snap, drawing away and sitting up. I look out of the back doors, which are still open. Anyone – Agnes, Brett – could have seen us going at it. I’m disgusted with myself. No, worse: I hate myself.
‘I want to go back to the hotel,’ I say to Jack in a low voice. ‘Tell them I’m feeling sick or something. I’ll pretend to be asleep when they come back. I don’t want to talk to them.’
OK,’ he says disconsolately. ‘But Jessie—’
‘No,’ I cut him off. ‘Enough, Jack. Leave me alone. I can’t believe I just did that to a boy I love with someone who doesn’t give a shit about me.’
�
�That’s not true,’ he says vehemently, his eyes flashing.
‘Whatever,’ I say. ‘You’ve never had a serious relationship in your life, and here I am, screwing up mine for something that’s never going to go anywhere.’ I raise my voice and he looks away from me.
I flop onto my back and roll away from him, curling up on my side. After a while, I sense him moving and hear him climb out of the van, and soon the smoke from his cigarette wafts in through the still-open doors. A moment later the doors slam shut. I squeeze my eyes closed and try to forget, but I can still feel the imprint of his lips on mine, and the outline of his pen on my skin.
Chapter 31
When Agnes and Brett come back and Jack sorts out our return journey, I pretend to groggily come to, only enough to allow them to put the seats back to an upright position, before I rest my head against the window and pretend to doze off again.
But I don’t sleep. Not even a wink. I hear them talking about me, about the gig and how tired I must be, and then they move on to chat about something else. My mind is completely consumed with how I’m going to tell Tom. Do I do it before I go back? Or do I keep up a pretence and lie to him until I get home so I can tell him to his face?
He’s going to hate me. He’s going to break it off with me.
Of course, I could not tell him at all… But the thought of lying and cheating is even more sickening to me than telling the truth. I don’t know why, it’s not like I’ve never lied before, but the notion of lying to Tom feels dirty and wrong, and I have never cheated, either.
Back at the hotel I force a smile at Brett and Agnes and try to act normally around Jack, but all I want to do is hide out in my room, which unfortunately is being shared with Agnes.
She stays with Jack and Brett while I go upstairs. I call Johnny from my room to let him know I’m back safely, and then I walk into the bathroom and face my reflection.
The green eyes staring back at me fill with tears, but I blink them away. I don’t deserve to cry over this. I’ve got no one to blame but myself. My gaze drifts to my neck and I pull down the top of my hoodie to see the black ink stain of Jack’s ‘tattoo’. What is it? I frown and step closer. Cupid spearing a broken heart? You’ve got to be kidding me. I pull the hoodie over my head and turn on the shower, stripping off the rest of my clothes. I climb in and turn the heat up, then reach for the soap.
My tears are washed away by the water as I scrub myself raw, trying to get the ink stain – the reminder of my betrayal – off my skin. Finally I give up. There’s no getting rid of it completely. And it’s not like I can forget what I’ve done, anyway.
I exit the bathroom to find Agnes sitting on my bed.
‘What happened?’ she asks, and I know there’s absolutely no point in lying to her.
‘We kissed.’ I sigh and sit down next to her.
‘Is that all?’ she asks.
‘Yes! Isn’t that bad enough?’
Her expression softens. ‘Of course. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. What are you going to do?’
‘I’ll have to come clean to Tom. I don’t know if I’ll tell him now or when I get home.’
‘Are you going to break up with him?’
‘No!’ I glare at her, but my face crumples. ‘He’ll break up with me.’
‘Oh, Jessie, I’m sorry.’ She rubs my back soothingly.
‘I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. You all warned me. I’m sorry, I know he’s your brother, but God! What was I thinking?’
Her back-rubbing jerks to a momentary stop, but then she continues without another word.
‘What about you?’ I think to ask, tearing myself away from my own dilemma. ‘How’s it going with Brett?’
‘We… I…’
I turn to look at her. She’s gone bright red.
‘Agnes?’ I prompt. ‘Did something happen in the sand dunes?’
‘It got pretty heated,’ she admits, and there’s something odd about her expression. ‘I’m going to go see him in a bit,’ she whispers. I notice her hands fidgeting.
My brow furrows. Does she mean…?
‘I love him, Jessie.’ She answers my unspoken question. ‘I’ve loved him for years. I want him to be my first.’
‘But Agnes…’ I turn to her. ‘He’s going back to Australia. Are you sure you want to give your virginity away to someone who’s not going to be around to have a serious relationship?’
She pauses for a moment, then nods. ‘I’d give it away to him in a heartbeat.’
I take a deep breath, concerned for her.
‘There’s nothing you can say to make me change my mind,’ she says. ‘Just… be happy for me. If you can,’ she adds, ‘with all of this going on.’ She waves her hand around.
I smile at her sadly. ‘I will be happy for you,’ I promise. ‘Have you got protection?’ I think to ask.
‘He has,’ she replies.
Jeez, she’s really going to do this.
‘Are you OK?’ she asks. ‘I’m going to take a shower and get ready.’
I swallow and nod. ‘I’ll be fine. Hopefully I’ll feel better in the morning.’
She heads off to the bathroom and I change into my PJs and climb under the covers, my head reeling. I’ve been trying to wash away my sins and now my friend is in the bathroom trying to prepare for one of the most major things that will ever happen to her.
I’m still awake when she emerges in a cloud of steam. She gets ready surprisingly quickly.
I shuffle to sit up in bed, watching her. ‘Agnes, are you sure?’
‘I’m sure,’ she cuts me off.
A few minutes later she comes over to me and bends down to kiss me on my cheek. She smells of perfume and luxury hotel soap. ‘Don’t wait up,’ she whispers.
‘Good luck!’ I call after her. A moment later I hear the door click shut.
I don’t know how much time passes before I hear a knock on my door, making me sit bolt upright. I wonder if Agnes has forgotten her key or changed her mind or God, maybe she’s done it and it didn’t go well at all. I leap out of bed and wrench the door open and almost die of shock when I see Jack standing there. He smells of cigarettes and beer and his eyes are bloodshot.
‘Can I come in?’ he asks. He looks awful.
I quickly come to my senses. ‘No!’
I go to shut the door on him, but his hand flies up, holding it open. He pushes it back and walks into the room. ‘Sorry, that wasn’t a question,’ he says flatly, letting the door fall shut behind him.
‘You’re drunk,’ I say.
‘No, I’m not,’ he snaps, and I see the clarity in his eyes. ‘I’ve only had one beer.’ He sighs and goes to sit on the edge of the desk, folding his arms and crossing his long legs. ‘I’ve been talking to Drew.’
‘You can’t just come into my room like this. I was asleep.’
‘Don’t lie to me,’ he mutters, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes in a weary gesture. His behaviour is freaking me out.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask shakily, standing in front of him.
His hands drop into his lap and he regards me with an odd expression on his face. He swallows and I’ve never seen him look more uncertain. ‘Drew told me to come,’ he says finally.
I stare back at him with confusion. ‘If you’ve got something to say, just say it, Jack.’
‘I care about you.’
I look away, upset.
‘I want you to break up with him,’ he continues.
I stare back at him with disbelief. ‘You want me to call it off with someone who loves me for someone who doesn’t?’
‘How do you know that I don’t love you?’ he asks suddenly.
I’m stunned. ‘Do you?’
‘I don’t know,’ he admits, looking down at his hands. I let out the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Of course he doesn’t.
‘When Tom finds out that I cheated on him, he’ll end it with me, anyway.’ My heart contracts at the thought, but hope flares i
n his eyes. ‘If he finds out,’ I find myself adding, watching as his expression turns wary. ‘It’s not like I have to tell him,’ I finish, staring at him defiantly.
He holds my gaze for a long few seconds and then suddenly he’s on his feet. I involuntarily step backwards, my knees hitting the foot of the bed as he walks towards me.
‘Don’t,’ I whisper when he reaches me, his body almost flush with mine as he stares down at me. He’s not touching me, but I can feel the body heat spilling from him like a radiator.
‘I broke up with Eve because of you,’ he says in a low voice.
Did he?
‘Tell him,’ he continues. ‘No, don’t just tell him. Break up with him.’
He’s too close; it’s muddling my brain.
‘I want you,’ he whispers, his hand coming up to almost cup my face, but he’s centimetres away from touching me.
‘You only want me when you can’t have me—’
And then his lips are on mine, his hands in my hair. I stiffen for only a moment before my body takes over and I kiss him back, my willpower shot.
I am cheating on Tom… I am cheating on Tom… My head says this on repeat, but still I can’t stop.
I’ve already cheated on him, anyway, the devil on my shoulder calmly points out. The damage is done, and oh… God… We fall onto the bed and my legs wrap round him. His kisses become more frenzied and hungry and I match him, kiss for kiss. I can’t get enough of him. I’ve never been able to get enough of him. I’m completely out of control here, and I don’t care. I like it.
He tears his lips away on a gasp, pressing his forehead to mine and panting slightly. ‘Jessie,’ he murmurs against my mouth.
This is the point where I should push him away, I realise. But I don’t. I don’t want to. I tilt my face up to his and he kisses me again, more slowly. I slide my hands up inside his top and across the toned skin of his stomach. His chest muscles ripple under my fingers as I trace the lines of his ribcage. He breathes in sharply, and then he rolls onto his back and pulls me on top of him. He places his hands on my hips, his thumbs circling my hip bones. I rock against him slightly and his lips fall open, a small murmur escaping. My PJs are flimsy and his jeans are rough and it feels dizzyingly good. A shiver ripples through me as he slides his hands up inside my top and skims them over my curves, and still I want more.