I rise to the surface of sleep like an object bobbing to the surface of a bowl of milk–I feel hazy, filmed over and slippery. But lucid. Also: rested.
So that’s new.
Ren is sitting in her spot on the opposite bed. She’s not studying, though. Her knees are up, her feet resting on the edge of the bed and her back against the wall. She’s staring at a gold envelope she’s holding by the corners.
When she notices I’m awake, she blinks–I think that’s about as startled as Ren ever gets. ‘Hai. Did I wake you? I’m sorry.’
‘You didn’t wake me.’ I sit up slow. My eyes are gritty, but the rest of me is comfortable. A nice post-sleep softness warms my muscles. I stretch experimentally. Everything appears to be in working order. Huh.
‘You’ve been asleep for a while.’ Ren regards me. ‘Sorsha, are we okay? When you left this morning, I was worried I’d been…’ She searches for the words in English, can’t find them. ‘Mungkin saya kurang sopan tadi–’
‘Wait, wait.’ I hold up a hand. ‘My Indonesian isn’t that fluent.’
‘I didn’t mean to press you this morning.’ She grimaces. ‘I really hope I haven’t done anything to make you feel–’
‘Ren, it’s okay.’ I push right out of bed, shove back my hair and go sit beside her. She moves over to give me room. ‘You didn’t press me. Honest. It’s just…’ I think for a second. ‘You were right. About why I left the north.’
‘Oh, Sorsha–’
‘But it’s not something I’m used to talking about. I’m still not sure how to deal with it. So you kind of caught me by surprise.’
‘I’m so sorry–’
‘No, don’t apologise. Seriously, you’ve got nothing to apologise for.’ I nudge her with my shoulder and change the subject. ‘What’s the letter?’
‘Oh.’ Her attention returns to the envelope. She’s holding it gingerly, like the gold paper is delicate, or maybe explosive. ‘It’s my first semester’s grades.’
‘Really? That’s cool.’
‘Mm.’
I wait a beat, but she doesn’t say anything more. ‘You’re worried about your results?’
‘I don’t want to open the envelope!’ Her expression contorts, and for a second I think she’s going to cry. That’s not like her: Ren is ordered, contained, steady.
I put my hand on her shoulder. I don’t know why she’s so anxious. I’ve seen her dedication to study, her level of organisation, and I’m pretty sure she has nothing to worry about. But I’ve acquired some new insight into how irrational anxiety can be.
‘Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to open it yet.’ I pat her gently.
‘Really?’ She looks so relieved at the idea.
‘Really.’ I remember what Gabriella said to me–Give yourself some space. ‘Just wait a while. Open it later.’
‘I perform in front of hundreds of people every week. Now I’m scared of an envelope.’ Ren sighs.
‘And that’s okay. Some envelopes are scarier than others.’ I think about the way I’ve phrased that. Maybe Ren’s envelope isn’t the only one I’m referring to. I wait a beat. ‘Personally, I have real problems with the self-sealing ones.’
Ren snorts. Presses her lips. ‘The recycled paper ones always bother me.’
‘And those ones with the little windows in them? The worst.’
‘I much prefer email.’
‘God, yes. I mean, who sends snail mail anymore? Come on. And we haven’t even started on the issue of paper cuts…’
Ren tries to hold onto her giggle, but it’s too strong for her–it burbles out, unbidden. Before I know it, I’m burbling, too. We both crack up. Then we remember we’re laughing over a really dumb joke about envelopes, and that kicks off a fresh wave of hilarity. This is hysteria, I think, but I don’t care. This kind of hysteria I can handle.
When we get ourselves back under control, I exhale loudly. ‘The point is, neither of us has to open our envelopes until we’re ready.’
Ren wipes her eyes. ’Okay, I’ll tackle my envelope later. And you can deal with yours in your own time.’
‘Good idea.’
‘Aduh…Oh gosh, I wanted to tell you. You got a delivery.’
She nods at the back of our room door, so I look over. Then I do a double take. Suspended from a hanger on the door hook is my costume for tonight’s show–for my solo. And it’s beautiful.
The style is old-fashioned circus glamour at its peak: a corseted bodice with a wide pearl-sequined neckline, ruffles softening tank shoulder straps, gathered swathes of fabric from hip to hip. It’s peach-coloured, with accents in cream and rose and dark orange, so it’s complimenting the colour scheme the team already has. I’ll stand out without looking too different from the others, and without worrying about offending Fleur.
‘Eugenia did a great job, didn’t she?’ Ren’s face lights up. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to wake up so I could show it to you.’
‘Holy…’ I’m having trouble finding my voice. I walk over and touch the peach lycra reverently. This is the most gorgeous costume I’ve ever owned. ‘Eugenia delivered this?’
‘Gabriella. She said she hoped you feel better after your nap.’
‘I really need to thank Gabriella next time I see her.’ Her and Henry.
‘You’ll see her at the parade.’ Ren stands and props the envelope on her nightstand. ‘But only if we change now. The build-up has already started.’
‘No way–how long did I sleep? What time is it?’ I check my phone and my mouth falls open. ‘I slept for four hours?’
Ren grins. ‘Guess you really needed that nap.’
‘Ohmigod, I have to get ready!’
I scramble out a short text to Luke–Rested and ready to roll–before grabbing my towel. A quick sluice in the kazi is all I have time for, but it gives me a chance to self-assess: my head’s clear, the heaviness in my body is gone. I’m a little stiff, from not training and then sleeping heavily–for four freaking hours, holy crap–but I can warm up backstage. I’m still nervous, but it’s excited nervousness, not blind panic.
I’ve returned to myself again. And I look more like me in the mirror. The pinched paleness in my face has gone. I don’t know whether it was the talk, the nap, or maybe it was just the medication wearing off, but I’m almost…relaxed.
It’s amazing. And Gabriella is a goddamn certified genius, as far as I’m concerned.
I pull on my new costume carefully. The leotard sections are snug in the right places, and there’s even peach-brown, fingerless gloves in soft leather, for my tightwire interlude. The corset bodice has lacing up the back, so after I’ve done my hair and slap, and tugged on my slippers, I race back to the bedroom for Ren’s assistance. She tightens my laces and I help with the zipper of her costume, and then we’re ready for the parade, two envelope-phobics grinning at each other in our fancy clothes.
She grabs her ballet flats. ‘Are you ready?’
‘As I’m gonna be.’ I rub my palms together, checking for sweat. I could still get out there and all my anxiety could come crashing back. I try to breathe that thought away.
There’s a knock on our door, and Dita sticks her head in. ‘Sorsha, you have a visitor. And hey, you’re looking a lot better!’
‘Thanks.’ I give her a smile. ‘And thank you for taking care of me last night. Sorry to put you on the spot like that.’
She shrugs. ‘Don’t worry about it. Troupe sticks together, yeah? I’m no fan of the blue boys myself.’ She grins and pokes a thumb back over her shoulder. ‘But you should get out to the common room before Lover Boy paces a groove in the floor.’
‘Lover Boy?’ I bite my lip as bees start humming in my stomach. ‘You mean…Colm? He’s been waiting for me?’
Dita snorts. ‘For a while, now. Hey, he’s a strength performer, right? He looks like a strength performer, but you never mentioned it. How come you never sent him my way?’
‘Oh.’ My cheeks warm up. I’ve been thinking of Dita as Colm’s competition, which is ungenerous. Troupe sticks together. Not everybody is as territorial as Fleur. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know how you’d feel about a stray lifter on the lot.’
Dita smiles with her white teeth. ‘He’s only a stray until he gets adopted into troupe. How about you tell him to join me and Seb for practice? We’re in Prac Shed Three most mornings.’
That makes my own smile widen. ‘I’ll tell him.’
As Dita departs, Ren touches my arm. ‘I’ll see you backstage, if not at the parade, okay?’ Suddenly I’m enveloped in one of Ren’s spontaneous hugs. ‘Oh, Sorsha, good luck!’
‘You too, Ren.’ My eyes are smarting. I squeeze extra tight. ‘And thanks for being so patient with me. Thank you for everything. Room Mate of Awesome–you totally win the trophy.’
She grins and dashes away, and I’m left to take stock. My costume is perfect, my slippers are on, my gloves attached to my waist by a ribbon for when I need them. My hair is curled and fixed in place. All the externals are taken care of. Now it’s just up to me. I draw a steadying breath, release it, and head out to the hall.
When I get to the common room, I pause in the doorway. Colm’s standing by the window watching the parade form up. He’s in his orange mechanic coveralls and white tank like he’s just come from work, sleeves tied around his waist as usual. His massive arms are crossed over his chest, and his wheat-field hair is tousled at all angles.
The butterflies in my stomach do little somersaults. What did I say to him last night, when I was out of it? I have no idea. It was probably something embarrassing. Then I remember his whispered confession in the cubby, when he kissed my shoulders, and I realise it doesn’t matter. Colm knows me–he’s seen me at my best and at my worst, and it doesn’t seem to have put him off.
But something about the way he’s standing there, gazing out, makes my heart thump painfully. He looks so alone. He’s got all the appearance of manhood, but he’s only nineteen. He’s no more grown up than I am. And while Colm and Ren and Dita and Gabriella and Eugenia and half my flying team have been in my corner, nobody has been supporting Colm. He’s been doing everything on his own. Which is basically the story of his life.
It’s why I went in to bat for him with Terry. It’s why I stick up for him with Morry. Everybody needs a champion sometimes. I’m a tiny little screwed-up champion, but I’m all he’s got.
When he turns his head and sees me walk in, though, the look on his face makes me feel ten feet tall.
‘Sorsha.’ His arms drop as the rest of him swivels around. I see him warring with himself about how to react, then he gives up the fight and swoops in for a hug, lifting me up. ‘Fuck, I’ve been freaking out. Ren sent me home to sleep, but I couldn’t sleep, but you were still asleep, and I didn’t want to disturb you. And then Gibson called round and said he needed a hand, so I figured if I had something to do–’
‘It’s okay. I’m okay.’ My feet are a mile off the ground. It’s all I can do to talk. The combination of Colm’s squeezing arms and the decadent feeling of hugging him has robbed the breath right out of me.
His arms release by a millimetre. ‘Am I hugging you too hard? I’m hugging too hard, aren’t I–’
I clutch him in response. ‘Don’t you dare let go.’
He tucks his face into my neck and I can feel him trembling. I’ve got a stranglehold on his neck, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It’s only when the sounds of the parade outside filter through that we remember we can’t stand here hugging all day.
He sets me down gently and exhales hard. He glances away, his cheeks a bashful red. ‘Okay. Oh, man. I’m so glad you’re all right.’
‘I feel a million times better after some actual sleep.’ I’m still holding his forearms. Being this close to him is making me smile like a weirdo. ‘You were amazing last night.’ I realise how that sounds, and my face almost explodes from blushing. ‘I mean, in emergencies. You’re amazing in emergencies.’
He grins. ‘You reckon?’
I try to get myself under control. ‘Yes, and you know it. But we should get to the parade. And I have to warm up, I‘ve done no training at all today and I’m…’ I look down at myself, in my new-costume spangles. Busted.
‘You’re performing solo,’ Colm says. For a minute I’m worried he’ll be angry, but his expression is just soft. ‘I wanted to take the heat off you. That’s why I went to Terry.’
‘I know.’ I slip my hands down to hold his, which looks laughable–my small, callused fingers in his enormous mitts. ‘But I needed Terry to know that my word means something. And I’m fighting for you.’ I glance down at our joined hands. ‘I’ll always fight for you.’
Colm goes strangely quiet. He moves one of his hands to my chin, tipping my face up. My whole body shivers from that small contact.
‘This isn’t about owies, is it?’ he asks softly.
I’m transfixed by the heat of him so close. But I manage to make a tiny head shake. ‘It’s never been about that.’
His voice drops to a hoarse whisper. ‘Why are you so good to me?’
Isn’t it obvious? I want to say it, but emotion is too high in my throat for the words to get out. Instead, I rest my palm on his chest. Colm’s heart is thundering against his ribs. When he looks from my hand to my face, something between our eyes starts to smoulder…
Then a blast of noise belts through from the parade outside, and the moment is broken.
‘Oh crap, that’s Winston’s tuba,’ I croak.
‘We’ve gotta move.’ Colm nods and draws on my hand.
Together we head out, into the late afternoon sun and the seething mass of bodies that form the parade. I wave to Ren, see Gabriella concentrating on calming Henry.
But I can’t go into the teaser without stretching. I’ll strain something, and then it’ll be goodbye solo all over again. I clasp Colm’s arm. ‘My warm up!’
‘Skip the parade entry, do a quick session backstage before the teaser.’ Colm ushers me through the crowd, his hand on the small of my back. ‘Sharpish, now.’
We jog up the hill and through the tunnel, leaving the parade formation behind. I go straight to the crash mats and parallel bars in the backstage warm-up area, start running through a range-of-movement sequence as Colm unlaces his boots.
‘What do you need?’ He leaves his boots and socks in a pile and steps barefoot onto the mats.
‘One second.’ I complete the last sequence, do a half-speed series of flick-flacks. My muscles are starting to loosen. ‘Here–flip me.’
Colm goes down on one knee and I step up his body to his shoulders. His hair grazes my ankle, but I have to concentrate now. As he grins and stands up fast, I flip backwards into a full somersault. We run it through twice more, as the sounds of the parade arrive at the entrance to the tunnel.
Gabriella’s horses storm past, the rest of the parade streaming behind. The flyers run towards their positions and I find Luke, meet his questioning eyes with a big thumbs-up. He points me towards the wing where we make our entrance and holds up two fingers. Two minutes.
Seeing Luke ditch his black robe is when I realise I’ve left my own robe back in my room. But otherwise, my costume is wonderful–nothing chafes, and there’s no tightness anywhere, thank god. The corset is maybe a little loose, if anything, now I’ve run through my stretches.
‘Are you ready?’ Colm steps with me off the mats, jogs beside me all the way to the wing.
‘I think so.’ I blow out a big exhale, step aside to avoid one of the acrobats as he marches towards his cue. I clutch Colm’s arm, then turn my back to him. ‘Tighten my laces?’
‘Um, it’s just like tying your shoe, right?’
‘Pretty much. Hurry, though.’
He fumbles at my back, and my corset pulls in at the right places. Then before I can turn around, Colm’s fingers take a swift detour across my shoulder blades. His thumbs slide possessively down my sides, following the line of the corset stays all the way to my waist. His head drops to my neck, his mouth right at my ear.
‘I like this costume.’ His voice is husky as hell. ‘I like it a lot.’
I only have time to shiver. Luke is waving me to join him and Dee and the others. I spin, grab Colm’s head and brush his mouth with mine. Fireworks go off under my skin as I release him and step back. ‘Don’t leave here, okay?’
‘I ain’t movin’.’ He looks shell-shocked.
I bite my lip over a smile, then I’m dashing to my cue.
It’s a good thing I don’t need to work in tandem with Fleur during the teaser, because she keeps giving me glares like she wants to yank my head off and throw it to the audience as a party favour.
Luke and Dee and Rueben are all business-as-usual, though, and getting back in the air is like a salve. My soul is happiest when I’m flying. It’s possible that the combination of kissing Colm then working the trapeze straight after is some kind of superdrug, because I feel unstoppable.
As soon as we’re down and back in the wings, Luke holds me by the shoulders. ‘You seem fine. You look fine. Does this mean it’s really on? Or are you gonna have second thoughts between now and the finale?’
I shake my head. ‘I’m all good. No second thoughts.’
‘You’ve got time to rest between now and the next cue. And eat, Sorsha. You’re still a little pale.’
‘Okay, I’m on it.’ I actually can’t remember the last time I ate. Now Luke’s mentioned it, my stomach makes a sound like a hollow gong.
Colm has beat me to it, though. He’s standing by the buffet with a loaded plate. He shoves the plate into one of my hands and a bottle of water into the other. ‘Eat that.’
‘All of it?’
‘Don’t argue. Stay here, I’m getting your robe off Ren, she ran back to the dorm for it.’
He trots away, his orange coveralls making him easy to track as he moves through the backstage area. I only take my eyes off him when Gabriella slides up on my left.
‘You’re right.’ Her lips quirk as she follows Colm’s progress. ‘He’s good looking.’
It’s hard to frown with your mouth full. ‘He’s taken.’
Gabriella throws back her head and laughs loud enough to score a glare from one of ring crew.
‘Oh, bless.’ She pulls out a handkerchief and dabs at the corners of her eyes, careful of her elaborate makeup. ‘Sweetheart, I don’t think you need to worry. That boy looks at you like you’re more appetising than the buffet.’
I choke on my sandwich.
Gabriella smiles indulgently. ‘Where’ve you been hiding him? Mech yard, right? Those coveralls look great on him, by the way. Terry’s an idiot if he doesn’t give him a spot. We’d have girls lined up for tickets all the way down the block. And a few boys, as well.’ She winks at me.
‘Well, Colm’s spot for my solo seemed like a fair trade.’ I clear my throat; talking about Colm has distracted me from my purpose. ‘I need to thank you. You delivered my costume, but that’s not all you did. You totally had my number this morning. I slept for hours after you sent me off to nap. You’re a miracle worker.’
‘Saint Gabriella, that’s me.’ She smirks, fingertips pressed to her chest.
‘Seriously. How did you know?’
‘Oh, I’ve hit the wall a few times myself. I know the look.’ Gabriella inclines her chin. ‘You’ll still have to deal with whatever’s bugging you. But you can do it better now you’ve got a clear head.’
I wipe my fingers and clasp her hand. ‘Thank you. I mean it.’
She squeezes my fingers in return. ‘I didn’t do anything, baby girl. I just made a suggestion–you acted on it. You did all the work yourself.’
But not all the work is done. That knowledge hovers somewhere just beyond my immediate awareness: I’m going to have to dig deep before the anxiety inside me goes away. I don’t have to open my envelope right this second, though. The police aren’t here, and I’ve regained some balance. I’ll do this show, restore trust with my flying team, and handle the rest later.
Gabriella leaves to tend to her horses in the tunnel, and I finish eating what I can from the plate. I’m sculling half a bottle of water when Colm returns with my robe.
‘You done?’
‘You overestimated the size of my stomach, but yes.’ I bare my teeth at him. ‘Do I need to brush?’
‘You’re good.’ He slips the robe across my shoulders. ‘So, what, you’ve got an hour to kill?’
‘About forty minutes. Although I should do some extra stretching before my spot. And Luke told me to rest.’ I examine Colm as I tie my belt. His bruises are fading, but he’s stubbled and a little grey in the face, the way he gets when he’s tired. ‘You should probably be the one resting. When did you sleep last?’
He waves a hand. ‘Sleep is for the weak. C’mon, let’s get out of here.’
He pulls me away from the buffet, back the way he came. A horse whinnies as we pass the tunnel mouth. Music pulses from the adagio performance. Performers scurry for their cues, and ring crew jog back and forth with props.
Colm seems skittish. He keeps a firm grip on my hand as we weave in and out. This isn’t the way to the scaffolding cubby. I don’t think that refuge is accessible right now. But I don’t know if that’s what he has in mind anyway.
What Colm might have in mind, after our soft brush of lips, starts me thinking. The direction of my thoughts, and the feel of Colm’s fingers entwined with mine, is giving me all sorts of sensations. It’s like a fuse-wire has been lit somewhere in the pit of my stomach.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Anywhere.’ His voice is raspy, and the look on his face jolts me. Under a thin veneer of stoic calm, he’s fever-eyed.
Whatever’s eating him, he needs space and privacy to sort it out. I tug on his fingers, force a change of direction towards the tent flap. ‘Here–this exit.’
We duck under the canvas together. Within half a dozen steps we’re outside, on top of the hill above the cinder block wall: I can see the lot’s main Parade Road down below. The sky is darkening as nightfall makes its arrival, and a breeze cools my skin. It’s just me and Colm now, underneath the light of a thousand early stars.
Colm’s eyes are restless, and he’s breathing hard. I pull him towards the ledge of wall, where audience applause in the tent is only a background murmur. ‘Hey, what is it? Whatever the problem is–’
He stills me with a raised hand, which he then uses to rub across his face. ‘I gotta say something, okay?’
I don’t like seeing him so stressed out. ‘Sure. You know you can always talk to me.’
‘Okay.’ He clears his throat, frowning. ‘Sorsha, I know you got hurt when you were attacked.’
Suddenly the breeze here is chillier than I thought. I pull my robe tighter, my shoulders hunching automatically.
Colm notices. He looks between me and the ground. ‘So yeah, I know that. And I know it takes a while to come back from something like that. And you never talk about it–you haven’t ever talked about it. I’m no psychologist, but I’m pretty sure that means you still have to deal with it.’
It’s what I was thinking before. Maybe Colm’s the one who should be doing mind-reading spots in the concession stands, not my aunt. But he’s not finished.
‘So that’s already a really big thing. Then there’s the fact that Morry told me to keep my distance from you. She said you don’t need any extra complications.’ He looks me square in the eye. ‘She was very specific about it.’
My hands curl into little fists. ‘That’s none of Morry’s business–’
‘I get that, I do. It’s not just about Morry, though.’ He stands his ground as the breeze tangles his hair. ‘There might be a court case. The mingers have already paid a visit once–they’ll be back. You don’t know how it’s gonna play out, and you might need my testimony. You’ve gotta take that into account.’
‘I have,’ I say. ‘And I already told you, I can’t live like that. Always peering around corners and second-guessing everything–’
‘I know that, Sorsh, I know. But I’m just reminding us both how it is. Because…’ He closes his eyes. ‘Sorsha, every time I’m around you, it’s like I get a fire in my belly.’
He lifts his head. He’s looking clear through me now, and I can actually see it: the fire inside him, burning behind those bright, hazel eyes. My breath stutters, because I know how he feels. It’s how I’ve been feeling for weeks. It’s how I’m feeling right now.
‘I should give you space,’ he admits. He glances away then back, as if his eyes are magnetised by my face. ‘I should steer clear of you, but I can’t. You don’t seem to want me to. But every time you’re near me, I just…’
His exhale shudders out and he looks away. His face is completely open in this moment, even as he curls his own fists, trying to deny himself.
‘I can go slow, whatever you need, but I can’t stop…wanting you.’ He swallows. ‘I’m strong, y’know? But I’m not that strong.’
I’m not that strong, either! I want to shout it. Every cell in my body has come alive at his words. I can feel myself leaning towards him. If I touched him right now…
‘So if you can’t handle that, then okay.’ His words are low and strained. ‘You just tell me and I’ll keep out of your way.’
‘Uh, what?’ My mouth drops open. This conversation has done an abrupt left turn. ‘You’re going to quarantine yourself because you’re attracted to me? Are you kidding?’
‘No, I’m not kidding.’ His expression is almost irritated. ‘I don’t want you to be–’
‘Kiss me,’ I say suddenly.
‘What?’ His eyes jerk up to meet mine.
I step closer. I can’t stand here and let Colm talk himself into knots like this. Not when we both want the same thing. ‘Kiss me. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.’
My voice is soft and dark, like the night falling around us. I put my hands flat on his chest, and Colm goes utterly still.
He sounds strangled. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘It is a good idea. It’s a great idea.’ My hands warm instantly on his body. He’s radiating heat through the light fabric of his tank. ‘You’re acting like you’re scared of me. Look at me. I’m four and a half feet tall, and I weigh ninety pounds. I’m the least terrifying person on the whole lot.’
Then my stomach swoops, because I remember–this four and a half foot, ninety pound girl killed a man. It was violent, and bloody, and Colm saw it happen. Maybe he’s right to be scared. Maybe I’m more dangerous than I thought.
But Colm’s shaking his head. ‘I’m not scared of you.’ He bites his lip. ‘I’m scared of myself. I lose it when I’m with you. Whenever we get close–’
‘We’re close now.’ I almost stamp my foot.
‘I know.’ He raises his eyes, and the look he gives me…It’s hot enough to take the paint off the cinder block.
I could fall into that gaze. Just abandon myself, like a fall into the net. My knees actually go weak, and I didn’t even know that was a real thing.
I have to clear my throat. ‘Stop freaking out. You’re a good person. You have self-control.’
Colm’s eyes burn so hot they’re practically glowing. ‘Not when I touch you.’
My inhale is unsteady. ‘Okay, but that’s different. You’re not taking me anyplace I don’t want to go. And you’re gentle with me. But you don’t treat me as if I’m breakable, either. I like it.’ I slide my hands up his chest and press myself right in. ‘I like you. But if you don’t kiss me in the next ten seconds, I might change my mind.’
He snorts, then his tight grin fades. ‘What if I get carried away, and you get upset or something?’
I huff out an impatient breath. ‘Okay, firstly, it’s not called ‘getting carried away’ anymore, cos this isn’t the nineteen fifties.’
He grimaces. ‘Well, what am I supposed to call it?’
‘I don’t know! But, secondly, if I’m upset, I’ll tell you.’
‘I don’t want to hurt you.’ His voice is so plaintive it makes my chest ache.
I put my hand on his cheek. ‘You would never hurt me, Colm. We both know that. If there’s a problem, I’ll talk to you about it. But let me be the one who decides.’
‘Fuck, I want to kiss you so bad,’ he whispers.
God, yes. I shiver. ‘Then kiss me.’
His whole body is taut. I think of Gabriella’s horses, straining with energy before the performance, and how she calms them so beautifully. It gives me an idea. I slip my hand around to the back of his neck, exert delicate pressure, bring his head down closer.
‘It’s okay,’ I whisper. ‘I trust you,’
Then I blow into his ear
Colm’s eyes close and he makes a noise, guttural and deep. It’s the noise someone makes when they’ve reached the limits of their endurance. When they’re about to tip right over the edge.
Okay, maybe a boy is not a horse, and I should have considered that.
His eyes slowly open, and they’re darker than the night around us. It’s like I’ve set off an incendiary device somewhere inside him, and it’s inked his pupils completely black. It should make me nervous, but I don’t feel nervous. A languid heat is stealing through all my limbs.
I watch, breathless, as he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth. He gazes all over my face, then his eyes travel down to where my curls trail over my neck. Further still, to my décolletage, and the line of my body under this robe. He reaches out a hand, and slowly pulls at the tie holding my robe together in front. The black silk unravels, and my breathing stops.
Now Colm is seeing me in my costume. He looks at me as if he’s seeing something he likes. As if I am all the things he likes.
When his eyes return to mine, his cheeks are flushed and the pulse in his throat is jumping. I jump a bit myself when he uncurls his fists and places his hands on my hips. He turns us both and pushes. I step back and find myself up against the cinder block wall. I register that the wall is gritty, and then nothing else registers because Colm has lifted one hand to my chin. He looks implacable. Nothing is going to get in his way now.
He tilts my head. Our eyes are locked tight. The pace of my breathing has sky-rocketed. This is more adrenalin in my body than I have when I’m flying. This is more adrenalin than I know what to do with.
With infinite slowness, his head comes down and his mouth hovers over mine. If he doesn’t put his lips on me soon, I’m going to pass out again.
When I speak, my whisper is almost unrecognisable. ‘Are you trying to torture me?’
‘You said I have self-control.’ He breathes his words. ‘I’m showing you. And I’m…savouring the moment.’
‘Savouring the moment? Don’t you think–’
And then he kisses me.
Somehow I always thought we would start with tentative, experimental pecks. This is not that. We start strong. Colm’s lips are firm and soft, and my own lips fall open instantly, I’m that greedy for him. When he licks into me, I moan. He huffs softly and smiles against my mouth. Then he pushes my lips apart with his, and his tongue dives again, and I may actually be losing my mind. My god, he tastes amazing.
He presses me back against the wall as we kiss, which is a good thing, because my legs don’t support me at all. Colm’s body is hot and hard and heavy, and his mouth is scorching.
One of his hands cups my head, holding me in place. His other hand moves, clasping my back, my waist, my hip. When he squeezes my backside, I gasp into his mouth.
He pulls back instantly. ‘Too much?’
I blink into his face. I can’t speak words properly right now, so I just shake my head.
He grins darkly. ‘Good. Tell me if–’
‘Stop. Talking.’ I don’t have time to wonder at how rough I sound before I pull his head back down.
He chuckles against my lips, but his chuckles stop as our kiss deepens. Colm’s mouth is suddenly my everything. His shoulders are my everything, too, because I’m clutching at them for balance. Then he puts his giant hands under me and lifts me up. He settles me on the ledge of the cinder block, so we’re about the same height, and suddenly the world is just as it should be.
Colm’s hips rock between my legs and he squeezes me tight. I have no fear of falling off the ledge. My fingers are in his hair, my arms around his neck. Our kisses pick up so much tempo they practically have their own rhythm-and-brass section. All my skin feels sensitive and there’s a throbbing warmth low in my belly, like the fuse has finally burned all the way to its destination.
We’ve just reached this incredible point where my head is thrown back and Colm is going to town on my throat when there’s the sound of someone else clearing their throat, closer to the tent.
Colm clutches me and holds me close so we can both look together.
‘Uh, sorry.’ Bill is made up in his Diablo slap, so it’s hard to tell if he’s blushing. But I think he is. ‘I just, um, came out for a smoke. I can go if you, ah…’
I laugh, because I can’t help it.
Colm’s smile is big and shy. ‘Uh, no problem, man. We were just…’
‘We were just leaving.’ I grin and squeeze Colm’s arms, give myself space to hop down off the wall.
Bill looks abashed. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt–’
‘It’s fine, Bill.’ I dust off my bottom with one hand. ‘If you’re out here, does that mean the acrobats are on?’
‘Yup.’ Bill waves his cigarette towards the tent. ‘They’ve nearly finished their spot.’
‘That means I should probably be warming up.’
‘Didn’t we just do that?’ Colm whispers, grinning. ‘You seem pretty warm to me.’
I pinch his waist. My solo spot is fifteen minutes away. I’m about to launch myself into space, but I already feel like I’m flying.