Authors: Mila Gray
blurry staring at the maroon plaid that fills my vision.
How am I supposed to recognize her in this blaze of
colour? But then I spot her. How could I have doubted for
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a moment that I wouldn’t recognize her? Even dressed
identically to three hundred other girls, she stands out
from the crowd.
She hesitates at the gate, letting a stream of cars pass
before she walks towards me, a small, shy smile on her
lips. She’s holding a pile of books in her arms and her bag
slung over one shoulder. Oh man. I’m down with the
school uniform. Does that make me a dirty old man?
She stops just in front of me and brushes her hair out of
her face. She’s biting the bottom edge of her lip. Again
she’s not wearing any make-up, but she doesn’t need to −
her skin glows and her lips look good enough to eat.
Before she can get a word in, I take her face between my
hands and kiss her, completely forgetting where we are.
Jessa opens her mouth almost immediately, inviting me
in. I pull on her bottom lip with my teeth and she moans
softly before jerking suddenly back out of my arms as
though surprised at her own behaviour. A couple of girls
walk past, staring at us over their shoulders, eyes round. I
grin at them and they scurry on.
‘Sorry,’ I say, ‘I got carried away. It’s the uniform.’
‘Yeah,’ she says, giving me a sardonic little smile that
wrinkles her nose. ‘Don’t tell me, you have a thing for
Catholic school girls.’
‘I do now,’ I murmur, opening the door for her.
She climbs in and I jog around to the driver’s side.
‘Where to?’ I ask.
She shoots me a sideways look. ‘Home. I told you, I
can’t be late.’
I pull out into traffic and take her hand across the seat.
It feels illicit, dangerous, as though we’re Bonnie and
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Clyde on the run. For a moment neither of us says any-
thing. We’re still getting used to the newness of the
situation. Jessa Kingsley is in my truck, wearing her
school uniform, and all I can think about is tearing it off
her.
I ask her about her day and she starts filling me in on
all the ridiculous rules, doing hilarious impressions of
her teachers. This is the side to Jessa that I like the most,
when she’s buzzing and happy and laughing freely. I
never see her like this on her home turf where she’s usu-
ally on edge, eyes downcast, rarely smiling. And even out
of the house, if she’s in a group, she has a habit of staying
in the background and not making herself the centre of
attention – it’s why it took me so long to notice her, I
think. But when she’s like this she lights up a room. It’s
like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.
‘Why are you grinning?’ she asks.
‘I’m just happy to see you,’ I say.
‘Me too,’ she answers, leaning across and kissing me
on the cheek.
‘I wish I could take you somewhere now,’ I say, shoot-
ing her a sideways look. ‘Other than home, that is.’
‘Somewhere like where?’ she asks, a glint of mischief
making her eyes shine.
‘Like somewhere for dinner. Or to the beach. Or the
park.’
‘Well,’ Jessa says, stretching and giving me a flash of
skin as her shirt rides up, ‘I’d rather go somewhere
private.’
I look across at her. Her skirt has hiked up too and
I can see the tops of her thighs, tanned and seemingly
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endless. I put my hand on her knee and stroke the soft
skin on the inside of her leg. She shifts ever so slightly
towards me letting my thumb stroke higher and I almost
swerve into oncoming traffic.
Woah, hands on the wheel. I’m going to crash if this
continues. Out the corner of my eye I see Jessa pulling off
her tie and then . . . unbuttoning the top buttons of her
shirt. What the . . . She starts fanning herself. ‘Don’t you
have air con?’ she asks.
‘This truck’s older than me. Wind down the window.’
She does and the wind blows in, ruffling her hair. I put
my foot to the floor, overtake a slow driver, and then take
the next right.
‘Where are you going?’ Jessa asks, sitting up straight.
‘A back way,’ I answer, ignoring her quizzical look.
About eight blocks from her house I pull down a dead-
end street that I know winds up at an empty lot. I pull the
truck into the weed-covered driveway and kill the engine.
‘What are we doing here?’ Jessa asks before turning
back to face me with raised eyebrows.
I look at her sheepishly. Am I being presumptive? I
don’t want her to think I’ve lured her here to have my
wicked way, though there is definitely some truth in that
hypothesis. ‘You want to go?’ I ask, suddenly worried.
Her face transforms into a grin and I notice the freckles
dancing across the bridge of her nose. ‘No,’ she says,
looking at her watch. ‘We have fifteen minutes.’
And before I can say a word she leans over and kisses
me.I wrap my arm around her shoulder and kiss her back,
letting my tongue explore her mouth, running my hand
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down her throat and through her hair, loosening it with
my fingers and tugging out the elastic.
Jessa starts tentatively, just like the other night, and I
match my touch to hers, not wanting to rush her or make
her feel pressured. She rests her hands on my shoulders,
but as the kiss deepens and we both start to get lost in it,
her fingernails bite into my skin and she curls her hand
around my neck to pull me closer. Unable to stand it a
second longer, I lift her across the seat and into my lap.
She opens her eyes to look at me and I see the sheen of
sweat across her brow, running down her neck, making
the skin glisten across the top of her breasts. I kiss the
edge of her collarbone and she throws back her neck with
a sigh. I keep kissing all the way up her neck until I reach
her jaw and then I kiss a trail of heat all the way along
to her ear, finding a particularly sensitive spot that makes
her gasp loudly.
‘I’ve been thinking about this all day,’ I whisper in her
ear.‘Me too,’ she answers back.
I move back to her lips, sure I won’t ever be able to get
enough of them. She grips me by the shoulders and lifts
up so she’s straddling me and suddenly I’m conscious of
my erection. She is too because she looks at me, flushing,
before quickly looking away. I wonder how intimate she’s
been before with a guy.
I take her face in my hands again, brushing her hair out
the way, and kiss her gently now, softly, so she knows that
I’m not getting carried away. Her hands stroke my hair
and then my face, before moving down my chest. At my
waist they linger before she slowly slides her fingertips
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beneath my T-shirt and starts to trace the lines across my
stomach. My muscles contract in a shiver. She presses
closer so my head is filled with the scent of her and kisses
me deeper, her fingers meanwhile keeping up their
steady exploration of my chest.
I let her, keeping my own hands on her hips, just
gently resting them there, not pulling her against me,
though I’m aching to, and not letting them do any explor-
ing of their own, though I’m aching to do that too.
Her shirt rises up and my fingertips skim the soft skin
at the edge of her waistband. I let them trace a few pat-
terns but force myself not to go any further, just
savouring the feel of her on my lap, the warmth and soft-
ness of her skin and lips. I totally lose track of time until I
hear a car pulling down the road behind us.
‘Crap,’ I say. ‘I think we’re going to be late.’
Jessa instantly disentangles herself from my arms,
jumping out of my lap.
‘What time is it?’ she asks before remembering she’s
wearing a watch. ‘Oh God, it’s four thirty. I need to get
home.’
I’m already starting the engine, though my foot is
shaking on the gas and I need to rearrange my pants
before I can drive anywhere. Jessa is too busy doing up
her shirt buttons and smoothing down her hair to notice.
I drop her a block from her house. She hops down from
the truck and I lean across and kiss her goodbye. ‘Same
time tomorrow?’
‘Same time
and
place,’ she answers, before slamming
the door and running off.
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Jessa
‘Who are you? What have you done with Jessa?’ Didi is
looking at me suspiciously, one eye half-closed as she
applies mascara.
‘What are you talking about?’ I ask as I yank off my tie
and start undoing my shirt.
‘You . . . you just . . . you seem so . . .’ Didi pauses with
the wand halfway to her eye. ‘Different,’ she pronounces.
‘Different how?’ I ask, glancing in the rear-view mirror
to check no one is around before I pull off my shirt.
‘Well, you’re ditching school for one. The Jessa I know
would never do that. I think Kit is a very bad influence of
the very best kind.’
‘What?’ I ask, laughing and pulling a T-shirt on over
my bra.
‘I like this new Jessa,’ Didi declares, tossing the mas-
cara into her colossal make-up bag.
‘You didn’t like the old Jessa?’
‘Oh I did, I just think the new Jessa is happier.’ She
turns to me, grabs my face between her hands and starts
to apply lipstick to my lips. ‘She glows.’
I pull a face, but Didi ignores me and keeps applying. I
think about what she just said. She’s right. I am happier.
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And I do feel different. I feel fearless, or if not quite fear-
less, at least braver. And isn’t that a good thing? I’m tired
of living my life always holding my breath, cowering as I
wait for the bomb to blow. Being with Kit makes me feel
alive, wired, excited. It’s like Didi said the other day at
the beach − it feels like life is finally beginning after being
stuck on pause for the last eighteen years.
‘OK, do this,’ Didi says, puckering her lips and blotting
them together. I copy her. ‘There, perfect,’ she says, letting
me go.
I wriggle out of my school skirt, keeping my eyes on
the wing mirror to check no one is walking past. I made
Didi park two blocks from school. Kit’s due to meet me
here in five minutes.
‘So do you think he’s going to take you somewhere
and ravish you?’ Didi asks, her eyes bright with excite-
ment. ‘Maybe he’s booked a motel room! Maybe by the
time I pick you up this afternoon you won’t be a virgin!’
I roll my eyes at Didi as I pull on a pair of shorts, but a
shot of adrenaline races through me at the same time. Is
that what he has planned?
‘What?’ Didi asks in mock offence. ‘You totally need to
get on that. He’s leaving soon.’
‘Don’t remind me,’ I say.
‘Have you talked about it?’
I shake my head. ‘No. Not yet.’ He’s met me every day
after school and we’ve driven to the same spot and made
out, each time cutting it closer and closer with the time,
and each time I’ve felt like I’m about to explode out of my
skin if we don’t do more than just kiss. ‘It hasn’t even
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been a week, Didi. I mean, I don’t even know how I feel
about him or how he feels about me.’
‘Why don’t you ask him?’
‘And be
that
girl?’
Didi shrugs.
I sigh and slump back in my seat. ‘What’s the point?
He’s leaving in three weeks.’ And what am I expecting,
I feel like asking her, a declaration of love? I don’t want
to find out I’m just another girl to him, so why bother
asking? If I can only have these three weeks, then I want
them to be magical and perfect and I don’t want to ruin
them by asking him on day five where he sees things
going. If I ask him that, I doubt things will be going any-
where.
I’m just buttoning up my shorts when there’s a thump
on the window. I jump, my heart rocketing against my
ribs, half expecting to find my father or one of my teach-
ers at the window demanding to know what I’m doing
out of uniform, but it isn’t. It’s Kit.
He gives me a sexy half-smile that turns my insides
liquid and jerks his head, inviting me to get out the car.
I turn to Didi. ‘OK, bye,’ I say in a rush.
‘Damn, he’s so hot he’d make an Abercrombie model
weep,’ Didi whispers, looking over my shoulder at Kit.
‘You have to sleep with him.’ She hugs me. ‘That’s your