Figuring You Out

Chapter Twenty- Four

"Well," he says, breaking away from the kiss, his hand lingering on my chest, I sink into the feeling of his touch, his refined fingers tailored for reading compared to mine which is now resting on top of his, rough and discoloured from all the rugby tackles.

"What happens now?" I ask, my voice still cracking slightly from the shock.

"What do you want to happen?" he asks, running his hand down my chest tentatively.

"You answer mine and I'll answer yours,"

"Ok," he smiles, "We go back to the library and make sure you're passing your science exam and then it's up to you, we can go hang out somewhere, talk about being gay and all that," he laughs off.

"You want to hang out with me?"

"Yes, I most definitely want to hang out with you," he says, pressing the back of my neck so our foreheads rest against each other, I am brave enough to rest my hands on each side of his waist.

"Is this ok?" I ask, nervously, already taking my hands away.

"It's perfect," he says, looking up at me from his long lashes, allowing my hands to rest on his waist a little awkwardly, we stay like that for a few minutes, listening to each other's breathing, his hand creeping on my chest and mine rubbing circles on his hip bone, "Come on we have an exam to pass,"

I smile at his shyness and unlock the door which a click before heading back to the library. As we walk back to the library, I have this undeniable sense of release about me, both of us with stupid smiles on our faces.

"So, you know that coffee place we went before? How about there? If you still want to go that is," he mutters, almost too quickly for me to understand him.

"Of course, I still want to go," I insist, giving him a pointed look of we just kissed in the grubby school toilets; of course, I still want to go and chat. He smiles but keeps his head lowered as he packs the rest of the textbooks away.

We arrive at the rather chic, uptown coffee house called The Roasted Bean, one of those places that instead of normal chairs they have sofas and bar stools. I press in through the small door and only when looking at the huge board behind the counter notice how expensive this place was, it was literally five pounds for an Americano.

"The usual?" a woman behind the counter, asks Red, he nods and then she looks at me expectantly.

"Cappuccino," I say, glancing to the side of me at Red, I can't seem to keep my eyes off him, I shake my head as Red leads us to a table at the back of the café. I slid down tenderly on the retro style ripped leather sofa, a clean shaved gentleman brought over our coffees, I stared down at my frothing coffee with both chapped hands wrapped around the warming mug. I stare intently at the white leaf swirling in the brown froth as I force the stinging sensation in my eyes to the back of my head.

"Hey," Red says, reaching across the table, "You ok?"

"Yeah I'm fine," I say, pushing my hair up, he squints sceptically as I tip sugar into the coffee, just needing something to do with my hands.

"We don't even have to talk- "

"When did you know?" I ask, the question interrupting him by my sudden overwhelming desire for an answer. He shifts but responds.

"When I was thirteen," he says casually, while taking a sip of his coffee, "I had a lot of friends who were girls and I just didn't find myself attracted to them instead I was becoming quietly obsessed with Zac Efron," he humours, I smile tightly, everything still spinning in my head, "What about you?"

I can't help but notice his tone has lowered, I know he is awkward asking and me even more so answering the question, "Didn't fancy any of the girl's hockey team," I laugh out falling when I sound flat and bitter, picking at a thread on the sleeve of my blazer, fighting the stinging in my eyes yet again.

"Hey," he says, I notice his hand reach over the pine table to my hand, resting on my coffee, "We don't have to talk about it yet, if you're not comfortable,"

"I am comfortable," I say, quietly, I see him intake a large breath, "What?"

"How many people have you told?" he asks.

"My sister," I say, "and you that's it,"

"Are you planning on telling anyone else?"

"Yeah, in time," I say, sipping on my own coffee.

"Can I tell you something?" he asks, I nod, "In all the time we have been sitting next to each other I haven't stopped thinking about how much I want to kiss you,"

I feel my cheeks go red to the tune of his light chuckling, "It's ok," he reassures, sensing my nerves, but I get up and lean over the small table planting a kiss on his lips, I pull away and open my eyes for the first time and see a boy, covered in freckles and black frames with a goofy smile on his face.

"Come on," he says, grabbing my wrist and pulling me up and out of the restaurant after placing a note on the table, he tugs us into a small, darkened alleyway, and his grip loosens from my wrist.

"This alright?" he asks, now looking unsure of himself.

"I've just never kissed a boy before," I say, he smiles lightly and leans up on his toes.

"You did a pretty good job in there," he says, then places his own lips onto mine, he takes control and I let him, I'm nervous and unsure of myself but eventually allow myself to relax into the kiss a little more. His lips move against mine as my hand finds the back of his neck, and is trapping the short hairs that sprout there, he pulls back slightly and smiles at me as I rest my back on the wall.