Innocence

The Game

The morning after our first sleepover, I woke up with a lightness I hadn't felt before. I normally flitted in and out of consciousness when I slept, I was a light dreamer. I would wake up if a fluttering moth landed on the ceiling above me, or if the curtains lightly tapped the wall in a slight breeze. But that night, I don't think I stirred once.

Ronit's arm had fallen off me during the night; I lifted my shirt up a fraction and did my best to get back under her hand without waking her. I finally settled with a few of her fingers on my bare stomach.

I didn't know the time, but I heard the Rav wheezing somewhere along the hallway, and several birds chirping loudly outside the window. Ronit let out a long sigh and my breath escaped me. I took the opportunity to look at her. I often stopped myself from doing that, because the power she had in the depth of her eyes sometimes drove me to the point of discomfort.

Her lips were parted, that was the first thing I noticed. She was breathing silently through her nose, her eyelids occasionally flickered making her long lashes quiver. Her fingers twitched. I thought about her tickling me.

Why had that had such an effect? There had been rush after rush of thrilling excitement within me, and I couldn't explain it. I'd been tickled before, but it had never been like that. The feelings of her fingers lightly roaming over my ribs and stomach had created a fever inside me; a thrilling fire in my stomach that I never wanted to extinguish. The thick vines had erupted into a tangled forest of thorns and ecstasy and I didn't know why.

I realised that in reliving it, my chest had started to rise and fall harshly. Ronit's shoulder eased up, and she started to yawn as her eyes peeled open.

'Morning.' She stretched out, taking her hand away from me.

'Morning.'

'How long was it, last night?' She asked with her eyes shut.

'How long was what?'

'I said I'd give you ten minutes on the floor. How long was it?'

'Probably... seven minutes?'

She laughed and brought her hand back, she rested it fully on my stomach again without acknowledging it. 'I won.'

I nodded, unable to think now that she'd woken up and put her hand on me; her sleepy voice gave me an itch on my neck. 'You did.' I said quietly.

We stayed in her bed for a while longer, under the thick duvet with our heavy heads sinking into the feather pillows. I'm not sure how Ronit felt but I didn't want to leave, because it would mean she'd have to stop touching me, and the warmth and pressure of her hand was too enjoyable to forfeit, but of course we eventually had to get up.

We both agreed to ask our parents if we could have another sleepover the following Friday.

'Another one?' My mother almost sneered when I asked her at home later that morning. 'Did the Rav ask you back?'

'No, Ronit did.'

'I'll have to speak with your father.' She was laying on the sofa, a cold, dripping flannel draped over her forehead. 'Did you have a nice time?'

'Yes.'

'What did you do? I hope you behaved.'

'I did. We played cards and ate toffees.' I thought about Ronit's fingers on my skin, and her lips grazing my cheek; I gulped away a spiky fizzle in my throat.

'Did you brush your teeth? And how was the sleeping bag? Your cousin said it had a hole in the bottom.'

'It was fine.' I lied.