“Look at us-” She points straight downwards, laughing as our reflections in the river wobble uncertainly, and become one black blob as I take a step closer to her. “Aww, cuddly-” I know she’s smiling even though she doesn’t look at me, but wraps her hand around my waist. I tense for a moment, thinking about pulling away from her. But I don’t because I’m certain that we’re alone. Just us and the trudging river and the rapidly darkening sky. There’s just a pinprick of a seagull soaring somewhere high above us, crying. Apart from the gull and the gentle rumble of engines and sharp cocktail of sirens it’s quiet out here. As the day fades to night. So I let her hold me for a long moment, her thumbs drawing soft circles on my hips. I try to time my breathing so it’s the same as Cheryl’s, but I can’t. Her breaths are too quick, too shallow. I wonder if it’s pain that’s twisting up her lungs. Maybe she’s tired. And then I wriggle out of her arms, sitting cross-legged on the hard concrete.
“Come here-” I pat the ground beside me. She shrugs off her hoodie, pulling it carefully over her broken arm. She drops it next to me, covering the patch of concrete beside me. And she scrambles to the floor, her head on my shoulder. She dangles her legs down, trainers hovering over the inky water several feet below us. And from her pocket she pulls her lighter. But no cigarettes. She flicks the lighter, hard. A burst of flame.
“Hold out your hand-” I don’t question her, I just do it. I give her my palm. She grips my wrist tight, holding her lighter at an angle in her injured hand. I can feel the cool metal so, so close to my skin. And I know what she’s going to do just as I hear as she flicks the wheel. My muscles contract, pulling away. Taking a breath in before they scream in pain. And then she’s flashing the flame across my skin. A momentary flash of heat, lasting less than a heartbeat. And then it’s over. And the scream never comes. She releases my hand. “You think it’s going to be hot. You get ready for it to hurt. But then it never does-” she murmurs. Spreading her own palms, looking down at them as though she’s never seen her own skin before.
“Yeah...”
“What does that tell you?”
“That I was scared of the flame. I wanted to pull away.”
“But you didn’t. You were scared, but you still wanted to feel it. ”
“Cheryl-”
“Yeah-?”
“What is this? This thing?” I look at her from under my eyelashes. I can’t look at her properly. I’m too scared she might burn too bright. Unquenchable, blinding heat.
“Us?” She raises her eyebrows. My hand rests half an inch from hers. My arm twitches, I want to hold her hand.
“Are we an us now then?” I ask her quietly. I try not to smile.
“What d’you mean?” She doesn’t hesitate. She holds my hand, her palm cool on the back of my hand. I touch my tongue to my lips. She looks at me, without even a shadow of a smile clinging to her face. She’s serious.
“Like, me and you-?”
“I want to be with you.” Her voice is low, quiet. She shrugs.
“Are you asking me out?” I something inside me wants to laugh. And cry. And shout, all at once.
And then all at once, she’s kissing me. And I’m still laughing, my stomach on fire, burning as we kiss. No. This isn’t kissing. This is flying, soaring. Like the virgin white gulls circling above our heads. Making love, falling in love, with just our fingers and our lips touching together. I want it to last forever. But I know it can’t. And so I pull away from her, she’s still got her eyes wide open, fixed on my face. As though she’s trying to read ever inch of me. Maybe she’s trying to read my thoughts in my eyes. I don’t know.
