Susan x Neil

(2+3)=(5)

Neil opened the door and said, "Shouldn't you be out having the time of your life?"

Susan had stopped crying about ten minutes earlier. She thought it was all out of her system. Apparently not.

"This is all your fault, you bastard," was what she meant to say, but what came out was a long string of vowels accompanied by an undulating waaah sound, followed by a fresh flood of tears.

Neil grabbed the cuff of her coat sleeve and pulled her inside, kicking the door closed. He led her into the lounge. She spluttered and staggered along behind him.

"You ruined... everything," she said in between large, heaving breaths. "You're a ... jinx."

The lounge was cold. He slid her coat over her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Then he pushed her down onto the sofa and pulled the duvet up around her. As he was about to wrap her up completely, he stopped. His hand reached in and touched her torn shirt.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, the mocking tone no longer present.

"Of course I'm not okay," she wailed. "Do I look okay?"

He placed a hand on her cheek—the chill of it gave her a jolt—and tilted her face up. At first she thought he was angry, but it wasn't anger, it was fear.

"Susan, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," said Susan, reining in her voice. "He didn't do anything." Typical. She had come all this way so he could comfort her, and the first thing he made her do was comfort him.

"Okay, then." He closed her up in the duvet, turned on the electric fire, and landed on the dining chair with a bump. "Don't suppose you brought me a party bag"

She buried her face deeper into the duvet. "Why, Neil, why?"

"I don't know exactly what you're asking me, but I'm guessing the answer's, because he's a sixteen year old boy."

"As soon as we kissed he went crazy." Recalling the memory brought the tears back to her eyes. "He was on top of me, trying to get in my blouse, shoving his tongue down my throat, all at the same time."

"Where was this? In front of everyone?"

"No, of course it wasn't in front of everyone. We were upstairs in the guest bedroom."

"I see. How did he get you up there?"

"He didn't. I suggested it. Well, actually, you're the one who put the idea in my head, so, technically, you suggested it."

"Christ," said Neil. "I should learn to keep my mouth shut."

Susan pulled the duvet over her head and pinched it tight under her chin. "It wasn't so bad, at first. We sat on the edge of the bed. We flirted. My heart was going badump badump. And then it was like a starter pistol went off. Urgh." She made fists full of duvet. "I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe. Every time I tried to tell him to stop, his tongue went in further. I didn't expect it to be perfect, but it was so uncomfortable. All I wanted was for him to slow down, to relax, but it was like he was on a mission. I couldn't stand it. I had to get him off me, so I pushed him." She leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, and let out a regretful breath. "I pushed him so hard he went flying and ended up flat on his back on the floor."

Neil laughed.

"It wasn't funny, Neil. He looked so sad. I thought if we took a break, calmed down, we could still make it work, somehow, maybe. I went to go to the bathroom to sort myself, but he must have thought I was leaving and grabbed my hand. He was on his knees, holding my hand, telling me he really liked me and that I'm special and beautiful and it started to piss me off because clearly he was going to say whatever, do whatever to get what he wanted. So then I really was ready to leave. I shook him off and headed for the door, but he got there first and wouldn't let me out and said, 'Susan, I love you.'"