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I cock my head, drinking in the sight of her, feeling every bit of it rush to my head and my heart and somewhere extremely inconvenient. Her hair is loose from its ponytail and she plays with the ends before moving to her dresser, poking through a drawer.
‘You can come in, you know.’ She pulls out another pair of shorts, squinting at them and then shoving them back in the drawerwithout folding.
I step over the threshold and take everything in. There’s a gallery wall above her bed, mostly prints and song lyrics, plus a few photos. I spot pictures of people who I guess are her parents, a photo of her with Josie, her and Max as kids, both dark-haired and big-eyed in matching outfits, and another with Max where his hair is buzzed and he’s on crutches.
Shouts emanate from the living room. Clearly they’re still on cricketgate.
There’s a mass of clothes on the bed, and she looks back at me sheepishly. ‘Sorry it’s so messy.’
‘I would expect nothing less.’
She eyes me intently and it makes me feel naked, so I check out the rest of the room to avoid having to look at her. Finally, I reach the bookcase, analysing its contents. But when I turn around to ask her something, she’s midway through getting changed, peeling her shorts off at the ankles. My eyes draw to the curves of her body, the black lace of her underwear, and my insides set off on a one-way trip to chaos. Instinctively, I push her bedroom door closed so that no one in the other room will see, before looking back at the bookshelf.
‘Finn,’ she says from behind me, much closer than I expect. ‘You can turn around.’
‘Are you sure?’ I don’t trust her. I don’t trustme.
She lets out a low laugh and saves me from making the decision by pulling me around by the hand. I meet her gaze now, clear and purposeful, and I get the distinct impression both of us have sobered up.
Ava’s eyes always make me feel like I’m in a house of mirrors; bending the light and tricking me into thinking I can escape, until I remember that I’m trapped, entirely at her mercy until she says Ican leave.
She plays with the collar of my shirt and says, ‘There are people on the other side of this wall.’
‘There are,’ I agree, mouth dry, aware in every millimetre of my body just how little material there is between us. ‘They might wonder where we’ve got to.’
‘I think they’ll be distracted for a while.’
I stay perfectly still as she runs her hands down my chest, her touch setting my skin on fire through the fabric. ‘I really hope so.’
‘To be perfectly honest,’ she says into my neck, and I close my eyes as her lips brush the skin there. ‘I probably won’t need very long.’
I don’t know if it’s a laugh or groan that comes out of me, but it’s made worse when one of her hands makes a lazy trail downwards, stopping just above where I crave her touch most.
I have to use up every morsel of restraint to pull back and look in her eyes to ask, ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’
‘It felt likeyouwere pretty sure last night.’ She links both hands behind my neck, setting off goosebumps across my skin. ‘And a few hours ago, didn’t you say you wanted to— what was it? Devour me?’
‘I was feeling extremely overwhelmed by the sight of you in that dress.’
‘I’m not wearing the dress anymore.’
‘No,’ I say, swallowing hard. ‘You’re not.’
‘Are you still overwhelmed?’
My hands fist the hem of her t-shirt, lifting the material higher up her thighs, and her chest heaves when the tips of my fingers brush the band at her hips. ‘I’m only a man, Ava.’
She moves forward with a smirk and my breath catches at the press of her against me. ‘I’m hurt. A physiological response—is that all I am to you?’
‘You and I both know you’d run a mile if I told you what you really are to me.’ My voice is quiet, a stark contrast to the way every cell in my body is screaming at me at eardrum-splitting levels. ‘But listen to me. I asked if you were sure you wanted to do this.’
There’s a pause before she responds. It might be half a second, it might be a whole minute, but I wait, until my new favourite word tumbles out of her on an exhale. ‘Yes.’
The sibilance of it hasn’t even left the air before I take her face in my hands and crush my lips to hers with the same urgency from last night. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to kiss her and not feel like I’m starving and she’s my first meal in years.
She sighs against me, and when my teeth drag against her bottom lip I realise I’ve never wanted to learn a language so badly in my life. I wish we had more than a few frantic minutes. I want to relish the softness of her; find out if my theory is correct, if our bodies have been purpose-built for each other, for fitting in the gaps we both leave behind.
This time, she smiles into my mouth, and when it turns into a breathy laugh I almost die right there. She knows she’s got me wrapped around her finger. Knows I crave her attention and affection and touch so much, I’d do anything for it. Knows if she said to jump, I’d only ask how high.
