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Authors: Rowan Coleman
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muscles of his shoulders contracting beneath her fingers as she held him.
Looking back, it wasn’t a long kiss, or a particularly passionate one. But it was perfect. It was a perfect first kiss. A kiss thatevery other she might receive in her life would have to measure up to.
Afterward, with his arms still around her waist, Marc smiled into her eyes.
“I’ve never been with a girl like you,” he said, almost regretfully. “And I’m guessing you’ve probably never been with someone like me. You’re different, Catherine, fragile and … nice. And I’m nothing special, I’m not nice.” He grinned at her. “I’ve made a lot of girls angry with me and I don’t take things too seriously. I like you, I want to see you again, but I want to be straight with you, make sure you know what you’re doing.’’ Marc sat back on his heels, dropping his arms from her waist.
“I’ve got to go,” he said. “If you don’t want to come tomorrow, I get it.”
“I’ll be here tomorrow,” she told him steadily, not certain at that second exactly how she was going to make that happen.
“Will you?” He watched her as he stood up, a faint frown between his brows. Catherine swallowed and took a breath. “Are you sure?” he said.
“You said I’m not like the girls you normally go with. You said I’m different, so if I’m different then maybe … this will be different. Maybe you’ll be different and anyway …” She had to force every single tendon in her body to relax sufficiently to allow her to say what she had to. “I’ve never had anything like this before, that’s mine, just for me. I just want to feel like this again—I don’t care what happens.”
Marc smiled. “Someday you’ll learn not to wear your heart on your sleeve,” he’d said, and then nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Catherine, same place, same time.”
Later that night, while her parents were watching the ten o’clock news, Alison crept into Catherine’s bedroom window as she haddone every night she could get away with it since they were twelve years old.
“Are you mad at me?” Alison whispered, easing first one bare leg and then the other through the window. Catherine, who had been lying on her bed reliving every single moment of her afternoon, sat up on her elbows and shook her head.
“No, I’m not, you’ll never …”
But Alison interrupted her. “When you hear what happened you’ll understand.”
Catherine sat up. Alison was so used to telling her stories, it would never cross her mind that Catherine might have one of her own to tell.
“Go on then, but be quick, Mum’ll be up as soon as the news is finished to tell me to turn my light off.”
“I was just leaving to meet you when Aran Archer rang me up and asked me if I wanted to watch a video at his house. Well, I had to go, didn’t I? Samantha Redditch has been after him since Easter. I thought she’ll die if she knows I bagged him.”
“But I thought you like …”
“Yes, of course I like him, I love him, but he hasn’t noticed me yet, so while I’m waiting why not go out with Aran Archer? He’s upper sixth, so there’ll be parties and I’ll get to hang out with my true love more.”
“If you say so,” Catherine said, having learned never to question Alison’s plans because Alison did what she wanted to do and worried about the consequences later.
“So I go round to Aran’s and his mum is out, of course. He draws all the curtains in the living room, tells me to sit on the sofa, and gives me a drink of orange squash !” Alison shook her head. “What a loser! Of course the film had only been on five minutes before we were kissing. His tongue was down my throat straightaway and his hand was up my top, squeezing them like they were lemons.”
Alison laughed, remembering to cover her mouth with her hand at the last second in case anyone heard her. “It was so not sexy,” she said. “So I push him off me and he says,
Looking back, it wasn’t a long kiss, or a particularly passionate one. But it was perfect. It was a perfect first kiss. A kiss thatevery other she might receive in her life would have to measure up to.
Afterward, with his arms still around her waist, Marc smiled into her eyes.
“I’ve never been with a girl like you,” he said, almost regretfully. “And I’m guessing you’ve probably never been with someone like me. You’re different, Catherine, fragile and … nice. And I’m nothing special, I’m not nice.” He grinned at her. “I’ve made a lot of girls angry with me and I don’t take things too seriously. I like you, I want to see you again, but I want to be straight with you, make sure you know what you’re doing.’’ Marc sat back on his heels, dropping his arms from her waist.
“I’ve got to go,” he said. “If you don’t want to come tomorrow, I get it.”
“I’ll be here tomorrow,” she told him steadily, not certain at that second exactly how she was going to make that happen.
“Will you?” He watched her as he stood up, a faint frown between his brows. Catherine swallowed and took a breath. “Are you sure?” he said.
“You said I’m not like the girls you normally go with. You said I’m different, so if I’m different then maybe … this will be different. Maybe you’ll be different and anyway …” She had to force every single tendon in her body to relax sufficiently to allow her to say what she had to. “I’ve never had anything like this before, that’s mine, just for me. I just want to feel like this again—I don’t care what happens.”
Marc smiled. “Someday you’ll learn not to wear your heart on your sleeve,” he’d said, and then nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Catherine, same place, same time.”
Later that night, while her parents were watching the ten o’clock news, Alison crept into Catherine’s bedroom window as she haddone every night she could get away with it since they were twelve years old.
“Are you mad at me?” Alison whispered, easing first one bare leg and then the other through the window. Catherine, who had been lying on her bed reliving every single moment of her afternoon, sat up on her elbows and shook her head.
“No, I’m not, you’ll never …”
But Alison interrupted her. “When you hear what happened you’ll understand.”
Catherine sat up. Alison was so used to telling her stories, it would never cross her mind that Catherine might have one of her own to tell.
“Go on then, but be quick, Mum’ll be up as soon as the news is finished to tell me to turn my light off.”
“I was just leaving to meet you when Aran Archer rang me up and asked me if I wanted to watch a video at his house. Well, I had to go, didn’t I? Samantha Redditch has been after him since Easter. I thought she’ll die if she knows I bagged him.”
“But I thought you like …”
“Yes, of course I like him, I love him, but he hasn’t noticed me yet, so while I’m waiting why not go out with Aran Archer? He’s upper sixth, so there’ll be parties and I’ll get to hang out with my true love more.”
“If you say so,” Catherine said, having learned never to question Alison’s plans because Alison did what she wanted to do and worried about the consequences later.
“So I go round to Aran’s and his mum is out, of course. He draws all the curtains in the living room, tells me to sit on the sofa, and gives me a drink of orange squash !” Alison shook her head. “What a loser! Of course the film had only been on five minutes before we were kissing. His tongue was down my throat straightaway and his hand was up my top, squeezing them like they were lemons.”
Alison laughed, remembering to cover her mouth with her hand at the last second in case anyone heard her. “It was so not sexy,” she said. “So I push him off me and he says,
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