I don’t know how to make it right.
With my head bowed, and my shoulders rigid with tension, I stared down at the crumpled letter in my hands later that evening.
Why I chose to always focus on that particular line, I would never fully understand, nor did I want to. Reading these words didn’t make anything better. It never had. But I didn’t need to hold the letter in my hands to remember what was written in the lines. Every word was scored on my conscience.
“Where have you been?” a familiar voice demanded, as someone stormed into my room, almost giving me a goddamn heart attack in the process. “I have been waiting all night for you!”
“Jesus Christ,” I strangled out, quickly shoving the letter under my mattress. “Claire! What a fucking fright to give a lad.”
“Oops.” Grimacing, she closed my bedroom door and padded over to my bed, draped in an oversized Liverpool jersey she had clearly stolen from my wardrobe. I knew it was mine because her brother supported United, while her dad was a die-hard Gunner. “I wasn’t trying to frighten you.” Climbing onto my bed, she sat cross-legged facing me. “I was looking for an explanation.”
“An explanation?” I stared blankly. “I’m not following you, babe.”
“Okay, so I know you saw what happened in the lunch hall today,” she blurted out, reaching for my hand. “And I’m guessing that’s why you didn’t call over after school?”
She was dead on the money, but I couldn’t verbalize it, because in all honesty, I didn’t have a leg to stand on.
“Jamie asked me out.”
Yeah, I got that. “Claire.” Training my attention on her small hand covering mine, I let out a sigh. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain anything to—”
“I didn’t give him an answer!”
My heart bucked wildly. “You didn’t?”
“No, Gerard.” She shook her head slowly. “I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“Yeah.” Exhaling shakily, I kept my attention trained on our entwined hands.
My life consisted of this girl. Of the perfume she wore. Of the smiles she offered. The clothes she chose on a particular day. The colors she painted her nails. She was embedded inside of me, and I was hooked.
Claire was my safe place.
If I had a shred of anything about me, I would open my mouth and talk to this girl. Tell her how I felt. Show her how highly I valued her as a human. Love her the right way. Switchfoot’s “Only Hope” was as accurate a song as I had to explain my feelings for her, but I would never play it for her.
I could see my friends settling down around me and I was still playing the boy card. Still protecting myself from demons that couldn’t get to me anymore but still did.
Sensing my sudden decline in mood, Claire sighed dramatically before setting her face in a comical-looking frown. “Gerard Gibson.”
Smirking, I pulled a face in response. “Claire Biggs.”
She waggled her eyebrow like The Rock. “Spud monkey.”
Indulging her playfulness, I crossed my eyes until they turned inwards. “Snuckle-bunny.”
She poked her tongue out and rolled it. “Baby daddy.”
I pulled my cheeks until I looked sufficiently disfigured. “Baby mama.”
Cackling with mischief, she scrambled onto hands and knees and pounced. “My germs,” she snickered, and then proceeded to lick the side of my face.
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” I laughed, wrestling her onto her back.
“Yep,” she giggled from beneath me.
I arched a brow. “Oh, yeah?”
“Uh-huh,” she goaded in a mocking tone. “What are you going to do about it, Gibsie?”
Feeling mischievous, I leaned in close and trailed the tip of my tongue from the curve of her jawline, not stopping until I reached her cheek. “My germs,” I teased before pressing a kiss to the adorable apple of her cheek. “Mine.”
Her breath hitched in her throat, and I momentarily panicked, fearing that I’d taken it too far. But then her hands were in my hair, and her nose was brushing against mine, as her warm breath fanned my lips. “Gerard.”
“Claire,” I croaked out, feeling my entire being ignite in white hot heat, as my brain failed to enforce the many reasons why I shouldn’t be doing this.
Because this was so bad.
She was too close.
I was too fucking broken.
“Gerard.”
I blew out a pained breath. “Claire.”
She pressed a lingering kiss to my cheek. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Feeling my resolve weaken when her lips brushed the curve of my mouth, I sagged forward, buckling under the pressure of my feelings for this girl. “Wait, I need to tell you something … ”
A loud knock on the other side of my bedroom door had my body levitating off the bed. “Yeah?” I called out, scrambling to intercept the person on the other side of my door – and to put some much-needed space between our bodies.
“Yeah?” I repeated when I opened my door a crack and peered out.
My mother’s concerned face greeted me on the other side. “It’s almost half eleven.”
“So?”
“So, I could hear you pacing around in here all evening.” Sighing heavily, she added, “Gibs, you need to try to get some sleep.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was just about to do,” I replied, and then I flicked off the big light for emphasis, stifling her view of my room. “Night, Mam.”
“Night, pet,” she replied. “And if you wake in the night, just come and get me, okay? No need to go wandering across the road. I’m here for you, too, you know. Always.”
Like hell you are. “Okay.” Offering her a half-hearted smile, I closed the door and sagged against it. Fuck.
“This is nice,” Claire announced when I finally turned around to face her. She was already under the covers and making herself comfortable in my bed. “What’s the saying: a change is better than a rest?”
Panic clawed at my gut. “You want to sleep in here?”
“Well, I think it’s only fair considering you hog my bed most nights.”
Well, shit.
How could I argue with that?
Blowing out a ragged breath, I walked back to my bed, and drew back the covers. “This is confusing,” I added, climbing in. “I don’t know how I feel about this.”
“What?” she snickered, rolling onto her side to face me. “Because I’m on the right side of the bed when you usually are?”
“Yes,” I replied emphatically. “It feels all fucked up.”
“Well, suck it up, buttercup, because I’m the big spoon tonight,” she cackled, draping an arm around me. “Now, give me your back and let me snuggle you.”
“There’s a word for this,” I grumbled, while complying with her request by rolling onto my side and assuming the little spoon position. “I heard Johnny say it before. He called it emasculation.”
“I would never emasculate you, Gerard,” she whispered, fingers trailing over my bare stomach. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“Neither do I,” I chuckled, snatching her wandering hand up in mine when it trailed precariously low to the waistband of my boxers. “Behave yourself, Miss Biggs.”
“Gerard?”
I felt her lips on my back. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I replied, body shifting as a wave of pained pleasure washed over me. “Claire … ”
She kissed me again, but this time she slipped her hand out of mine and trailed it down my stomach, not stopping until her fingers grazed my inner thigh. “Gerard.”
Jesus Christ. My heart was beating so hard in my chest, I thought it was going to implode inside of me.
“Don’t,” I croaked out, snatching her hand back up when her fingertips slid under the elasticated waistband of my boxers.
Unable to repress the shudder that racked through me, I rolled around to face her. “Claire,” I whispered, cupping her face with my hand, while trying to regain some composure. “What are you doing?”
Instead of responding with words, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to the inside of my wrist. “I don’t want Jamie Kelleher,” she whispered, shifting closer so that our chests were flush together. “I don’t want anyone else.”
Her hand slid beneath the covers once more and I couldn’t stop the pained groan that escaped my lips when her fingers grazed the fabric that contained my raging hard-on.
Jesus Christ.
Everything inside of me was demanding I reciprocate her advances and finally claim this girl for my own.
Let her do it.
Just let her touch you.
“No.” Shuddering, I shook my head and snatched her hand back up. I knew what she wanted, and I couldn’t get out of my head long enough to give it to her. “You can’t.”
Big, innocent, brown eyes looked up at me. “I can’t.”
I shook my head slowly and held my breath, preparing for the wave of devastation that would floor me when she climbed out of my bed and stormed out. Because like the habit of a lifetime, I had once again failed this girl.
But it didn’t come.
She didn’t leave.
“Okay, I can’t,” Claire replied, words barely more than a breathy whisper. “But … ” taking my hand in hers, she placed it between her legs “ … can you?”
“Claire.”
“Please, Gerard,” she breathed, chest heaving, as she adjusted my hand so that I was cupping her over her underwear. “Please.”
