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Dark shudders and roars. Deep inside me his thick and viscous release spurts, sending a new wave of pleasure crashing through me.

We fall still.

The only sound is my heavy breathing.

He moves, and my hands grab his ass to stop him. “No. I like the way you feel.” My speech is slurry, even the muscles in my face and tongue are too weak to function.

“I will grow hard again,” Dark says solemnly.

I grin up at him. “Perfect.”

And it really is.

Chapter 20

Dark Day

Iam not thinking about last night.

I am, in fact, thinking so hard about not thinking about it that I’ve cleaned the entire kitchen twice and even scrubbed the hob until it gleams. I’m currently on my knees wiping down skirting boards nobody has looked at properly since the flat was built. I’ve even put on the little frilly apron, the one with the scalloped edge and the bow that ties far too neatly at the back. And if some small, treacherous part of my brain keeps drifting towards an entirely different apron, in an entirely different place. An empty coffee shop, say, with Dark looking at me the way he did, intensely enough to make his amber eyes glow brighter. Well. I’m choosing not to notice that part of my brain today.

I definitely am not thinking about it. I am thinking, instead, about the correct technique for skirting boards, and whether Hannah will notice I’ve used her good cloth, and absolutely nothing else at all.

There’s a knock at the door. Then, before I’ve even properly stood up, the door itself opens anyway. Felix, Adam, and two shadows that are clearly not actually shadows come piling into my kitchen like they own the place, while Adam nearly trips over the bucket I’ve left in the middle of the floor.

I don’t ask how they got in. Felix is a witch. And if it wasn’t him, it was shadow being cleverness. Either way, asking never seems to get me a satisfying answer, so I’ve stopped bothering.

“We’re going to see the partial eclipse,” Felix announces.

“What partial eclipse?” I ask completely bewildered. Maybe I’ve been breathing in too many bleach fumes.

Felix looks at me the way you’d look at someone who’s just asked what year it is. “The one everyone in Bristol has been talking about for the last fortnight.”

“Oh. Right. That partial eclipse.” I straighten up, apron bow still stubbornly perfect. “I didn’t think you were into that sort of thing.”

“I’m not.” Felix huffs. “Then I decided we could all do with an afternoon that isn’t crowns and prophecies and whatever else has been ruining my week. This happened to be the first excuse available.”

Adam nods in agreement. It’s beginning to look like I’m outnumbered. And then a thought strikes me. If we are all here… “What about the coffee shop?”

“Shut. Nobody’s buying coffee today. They’re all up on the Downs staring at the sun like it owes them money,” Felix says with an eye roll.

I realise that not thinking about things is taking up all of my brain cells. I can’t even begin to form a coherent thought. But really, what is there to think about? My friends want to hang out with me, and that’s always wonderful. So I pull my coat on and let myself be steered out into the grey afternoon.

I’m grateful, in a quiet way, that nobody has actually asked how I’m holding up. There’s a particular kindness in being handed a distraction instead of an interrogation. I decide, walking between Felix and Adam down my own front steps, that I’m simply going to let myself have it without picking it apart for motives.

Last night is still sitting somewhere warm and complicated in my chest, the sort of thing I haven’t properly let myself examine yet. I’m worried that looking at it too closely might somehow make it disappear. I know it was beautiful, amazing, and everything I could have hoped for. I also know it was a tragedy because it can never happen again.

I shared my first time with someone special. And they shared their first time with me. It was perfect, in that way, and that is what I’m going to cling on to and remember about it.

Adam takes my arm and Felix glares at me when I offer my other one. A smile tugs at my lips. It’s nice to know that whatever happens, some things will remain the same. Felix will always be Felix.

Behind us, Hex and Dis flit from shadow to shadow, keeping themselves hidden from view. It’s familiar and unfamiliar, being trailed by shadow beings, but not the shadow being I wish was three paces behind me. But I’m not thinking about that. And my friends have very kindly arranged this distraction to stop me thinking about it, so it would be rude to think about it, therefore it’s a good thing I’m not at all thinking about it.

The Downs are properly packed when we arrive, blankets everywhere, cardboard glasses being passed hand to hand, a group of students with a speaker playing something upbeat, a man in a very serious anorak explaining orbital mechanics to absolutely everybody within earshot. I love his commitment. Further along, a couple has set up a proper telescope with a special filter on a tripod, patiently letting a queue of small, delighted children take turns squinting through it. The whole scene has the easy, unhurried feel of a city that’s decided to enjoy itself for an afternoon.

Hex and Dis fold themselves into Adam and Felix’s shadows the moment we settle onto the grass, edges too crisp for ordinary shadows if you know to look.

I glance down at my own shadow, ordinary, obedient, stretching across the grass exactly the way shadows are supposed to, doing nothing more than following the shape of me. I feel something small and sharp lodge itself under my ribs. Everyone else’s shadow tonight is somebody. Mine is just a shadow, exactly what a shadow is meant to be. I hate, quietly and a little ashamedly, how much that plain, ordinary fact stings right now.