(an)- Hey readers! This is, in fact, a chapter and not just an author's note. But primarily I wanted to tell you two things: 1) this is, sadly, the first part of the last chapter of this story :( and 2) I am off on holiday (again!) for the next week so I'm forced to leave you in suspense about the last part. I should return by the 31st, so expect the next update around the 1st of September :). I hope you enjoy, as always. Also, if you all show IMMENSE amounts of love for this story over the week ahead, I might just write you an extra chapter (maybe even something from room number seven??) so it doesn't have to end so fast. I'm serious though- I'm going to need motivation if you want me to do that so vote, comment and promote away! Once again, it's all up to you!
Chapter 23
“You’re joking!” I say, doubled over in hysterics. “You’re absolutely having a laugh!”
Will grins. “No, it’s true,” he assures me. “Completely unexpected, but true.”
We both stare at the sign in front of us, plastered over the locked door of the youth hostel. It is bright yellow, like the buttercups I used to pick as a kid, and the headline ‘CLOSED FOR REDECORATION AND ALL ROUND RENEWAL’ is as striking as the colour. What is more, even more striking than all of that put together are the names of the owners of the hostel, signed at the bottom of the notice in bold black block capitols.
Jones and Davinia Craw.
“It’s Jonesy and Davinia. From room number ten!” I laugh, a new round of heaving gasps shaking my body. “I can’t breathe!”
“Turns out the reason they can stay here, being old and all, is because they own the place,” Will agrees. Both of our faces are red from laughing.
When we finally compose ourselves, Will kicks a leg back and leans against the wall of the hostel. He plays with the corner of the sign with his fingertip. “You know what this means?” he asks.
“What?” I say.
“Room number seven might be a luxury suite when we book it next! Think about it; a bed that doesn’t squeal in protest when you move…a smell on the new sheets that isn’t either stale sex or mould…a ceiling that doesn’t look like someone threw up on it…”
By this point, I am laughing again. “Can’t wait,” I manage in between gasps for breath.
“Only thing is,” Will pushes off of the wall and comes a little closer. “We’ll have to find another place to haunt in the evenings until then.” No matter how long I’ve been with Will, or how long we have been intimate with one another, the implication still makes me blush. He runs a long finger up my arm, making me shiver. “I wish this place was open tonight.”
“Too bad you’re going to your mum’s tomorrow,” I murmur, looking up at him. He is visiting May in London, where she moved not too long after Will’s race for the Mayville Runners. The divorce is getting easier for him to cope with, with his Dad trying harder to rebuild the father-son relationship, and his mother far enough away not to annoy Will every waking second. He stays with her for a week over the holidays sometimes, which is what he is doing from tomorrow.
“Yeah,” he says. “I love my mum and all that, but I’d rather stay.”
“It’s only a week,” I remind him.
“True, true,” he takes my hand, leading me back in the direction of my house. He will have to leave soon to pack and get ready. I hate it when he goes away, but I try not to make that too obvious, to keep him guessing. “Anyway, how’re things?” he asks. “What’s going on with the people here?”
Will keeps in touch with Joey, but nobody else- apart from me, obviously- so he likes to hear the latest news about my friends.
“Well…” I say. “There is one piece of juicy gossip if you want to hear it.”
“Ooh, spill!” Will puts on his best squealing-girl voice, and I laugh again at how he sounds like Kate.
“You know Gemma? The one you, um…” I trail off. The one you kissed at Joey’s party.
“Yeah, yeah,” Will says quickly, not meeting my gaze. He still feels bad about that. And so he should.
I continue. “Well, she has recently turned from her sluttish ways and entered into a serious relationship with none other than Sid Frankly.”
“Arse boy?” Will asks, trying to put a face to Sid’s name. I’m surprised he even remembers the time Sid tried to grab my butt at Kelly’s party.
“Yup, arse boy. Aren’t they just made for each other?” I laugh.
“Totally.” Will nods his head in amusement and then cringes. “Actually, ew. They’re kind of a STD waiting to happen.”
“You got that right,” I say, shuddering in fake horror. “Although they’re making each other more decent, I’ll give them that. She’s no longer so slutty, and he’s really cut down on his arse-grabbing antics. Kate thinks that on the night Sid dared you to kiss Gemma, they’d had a fight and he wanted to see what she would do. Sid and I were almost in the same situation.”
Will grimaces from beside me. We walk along in silence for a short distance. “I really am sorry about that, Chloe,” he says quietly after a while, squeezing my hand lightly in time with the soft patter of our footsteps.
“I know,” I say. “And if you’re good, I might just forgive you.”
“You mean you haven’t yet?” he asks, clutching a hand to his heart dramatically. I tap the side of my nose as if to keep that information to myself.
He stops walking. “Alright then. Have it your way. How shall I ‘be good’?” he asks, throwing his arms wide.
I pretend to consider it. “Well, I can certainly think of a few things…” I begin.
But I am cut off by his sudden kiss.
YOU ARE READING
Her List of Kisses
Teen FictionWhen she was thirteen, Chloe Golding wrote a list. On this list was every type of kiss she hoped to experience in her teenage years. They ranged from an innocent peck on the back of the hand, to passionate make-out sessions and kisses on the private...
