Stigma

5

A sudden knock startled her, a sob catching in her throat as she gasped. The noise seemed to be coming from below the window. Scared, she peered down at the wall below her window. Jonathan's usually grave face grinned up at her, balanced on top of the ladder used for gathering apples.

"What are you doing?" she hissed; the idea of Jonathan being here - in this side of the city - scared her even more than the prospect of a stranger breaking into her bedroom. "I promised my father you would never come back here again. If he sees you..." she trailed off, fresh tears trailing down her cheeks.

"And I promised my father I would never come back. But rules are made to broken. Especially for love." He said softly as he clambered awkwardly into her bedroom. Her eyes opened wide at his last words. She couldn't believe it. These feelings she had been squashing out of her head, the ones that had made her cry herself to sleep; were why she was crying now, the ones she told herself were ridiculous and not real, and now she knew Jonathan was feeling them too. For the first time, she allowed herself to taste the words in her mouth. I'm in love with Jonathan. I love Jonathan. I'm in love with Jonathan.

"I love you, Jonathan." The words were small, so quiet she wondered if he had even heard them. For a moment he was silent, but his hands spoke the words for him. First he caressed her cheek, moving down to her shoulder, then her waist. He skirted around her chest awkwardly, as if he didn't quite know what to do there. Gently, she guided his hand beneath the floaty folds of her floral shirt, into the cup of her breast. She could hardly dare to breathe. His eyes lit up at the prospect, but he shook his head mutely. His hand shrank from her skin, returned shyly to his pocket.

"No" came the whisper, as soft as his fingers on her skin. She could still feel them tingling there on her ribs and her chest. She could feel herself blushing, staining her cheeks even redder than they were before. "We can't... it wouldn't... no." he stammered, suddenly shy now. She nodded silently, wondering why she was saying no, when she could have this.

The hot tears spilled onto her cheeks again but she didn't notice them. Jonathan brushed them away, but the thought of him touching her, when she knew he shouldn't, made her recoil. She loved him. But why did it have to be so complicated? He was the most beautiful boy she'd ever met, with his olive skin and shiny full lips. Thinking of that drew her closer to him again. So close that she could smell his warm, marmalade breath. She raised her head so that their eyes were at the same level, just centimetres apart.

His lips brushed hers. Ever so lightly at first, but when, to her surprise, she reciprocated, the pressure increased. A small moan came from his mouth as they began kissing properly. She could taste him now, so sweet it made her hurt.

Footsteps. They broke off hurriedly as she recognised her father's heavy footfalls, her lips still tingling, she whispered sharply,

"Go! He can't see you here! Get down, get down!". The footsteps became louder, drew nearer as Jonathan climbed through the window. Her heart nearly stopped as she slammed it shut and picked up a book from her desk just as the bedroom door creaked open.

"Hello, darling! Are you okay?" her father asked. Panicked, she put on a painfully bright smile and nodded vigorously. She gestured towards her book, hoping he'd get the message – and then get out.

It was only when he softly closed the door that she realised she'd been holding the book upside down.