Spark (7 page)

That night after dinner, Mum comes over unannounced. She’d had the talk with Dad, and they are definitely separating. Dad is going to move out until they figure out how things are going to work.

Mum assures me that it is for the best. I wish I could believe her. Mum says it will be tough on everyone initially, but they are going to try and do it as amicably as possible.
Yeah right
. I’ve heard that before. That’s what Jon’s parents said, and it turned out to be the bitch-fight of the century.

I’m thankful that Crystal is out to dinner. After Mum leaves, I end up drinking a bottle of cheap white wine, which makes a reappearance in the early hours of the morning. Crying myself to sleep, seems to be the new norm.

****

The last few weeks have been much of the same: work, gym, sleep, and every now and then, when my head’s too fucked up to deal, tears into my pillow. My family is crumbling. Sometimes, the only thing that gets me out of bed is Jon. We aren’t spending any more time together than usual, but he is there whenever I need him. And he gives great cuddles, something I’m growing rather fond of.

We are still close like we were before, but each time we see each other there’s the inevitable moment where things get that little bit friendlier. We haven’t gotten naked or anything yet, but it’s bound to happen sooner or later. I know Jon is taking it extra slow … he probably doesn’t want to scare me off. Besides, we are still getting used to this.

Not that I’ve ever told him in so many words, but Jon must know I haven’t slept with anyone before. Sex is the elephant in the room, and its hairy arse is growing bigger by the day. We are slowly running out of room. Surely, he notices it too.

Cassie asked me the other day how things were going between us. Relief washed over her face when I said we were taking it slow. But to me, it seems a little
too
slow. I’m definitely no expert, but it should be moving faster, shouldn’t it? I want to try and make this work. It’s my first real relationship. So, I got up the courage and asked her for advice. I know I’ve read a heap of romance books, but imagining it and doing it are completely different things. I’ve never touched a guy
there
before. What if I do it wrong? Sure, I once rubbed up against a guy at a party while we kissed, but that’s it. I was also embarrassed to admit to Cassie that I’d never been naked in front of anyone before, but she assures me I have nothing to worry about. I hope she’s right.

Cassie recommended I grab a
Cosmo
magazine, for a bit more factual material.

So I did. And now I’m more nervous than ever. I think I need a drink.

****

Today is Saturday.
Date night
. Jon and I are going out somewhere for dinner.

Since we started seeing each other, we are always at his place. Last week, he said he wanted to take me out for dinner. “Are you taking me out on a date?” I’d teased. So yes, this is our first
official
date night.

I drive over to Jon’s at around seven o’clock—butterflies and all. It’s still very cold at night, but I can’t wear jeans on a date. I need to make more of an effort than that. A short black skirt, and a gold knitted V-neck top is what I come up with after most of my wardrobe ends up on the floor. I pair it with black stockings, and a Mary-Jane style pair of black heels I sometimes wear to work.

Jon looks sharp: cleanly shaven, his blond locks tamed with some hair gel. His black dress shirt hugs his broad shoulders, and accentuates his firm chest. Dark blue jeans hang nicely on his tapered hips and show off his toned legs, with a chic pair of black leather shoes. I haven’t seen him in these clothes before. Maybe he’s been shopping.

Once in the car, his fresh aftershave fills the small space. Did he always wear it, or is it only lately? How could I have not noticed before that he smells so good?

We start with a cocktail while we chat and study the menu at a new Italian restaurant in the city. It’s a nice way to start the evening, and in no time the butterflies settle down, and my sweaty palms return to normal. We order entrées to share, and a bottle of red wine to go with our hearty mains of beef and duck. I make him promise that we’ll revisit the dessert menu later. I hope I have room.

The restaurant is busy, people seated around lots of small tables covered with white tablecloths and white butcher’s paper. Waitresses flutter between the tables, delivering dishes from the noisy kitchen. The smell of the wood-fire oven near our table has me salivating.

I don’t normally drink red wine, but as we chat and leisurely eat, the wine warms me from the inside out. I hope my teeth aren’t stained from it. Hopefully my best friend, uh, I mean, boyfriend, will tell me if they are, and save me any embarrassment.

The couple next to us pencils something onto the butcher’s paper. I look around the restaurant, and notice pencils on other tables, too. Maybe they have them to keep kids occupied, but it doesn’t seem like the kind of place you would bring children to. This is more fine dining.

“What’s with the pencils?” I ask.

Jon shrugs, and picks one up. He covers the paper with one hand as he writes something. He flattens his hand over his writing, and hands me the pencil with a shy look. I push his hand back, revealing the words

WILL YOU MARRY ME?

which he has written upside down so I can read them.

What?
Clearly it’s a joke, but that tells me something about his feelings for me. Is this a test to see how I’d react? I don’t know what I’ll say if he tells me he loves me. Surely he wouldn’t do that tonight.
Would he?
There’s been no mention of the ‘L word’ since the first night we kissed. I’ve seen it in movies. People say those three little words too soon, and get shut down. Once they’re out there, you can’t take them back. You really only want to put it out there if you know it’s going to be returned. I hope he’ll have the good sense not to say it unless he’s sure I feel the same way. I love him, of course I do, just not like that. Maybe in time those feelings will come.

I tap the end of the pencil on my lower lip, and then pull it away. God, anyone could have had it in their mouth. I try to keep my response light.

Writing upside down is more of a challenge than I’d thought it would be. It must be the wine.

SORRY, I’M HOLDING OUT FOR RYAN GOSLING.

Jon laughs out loud. I giggle.

Crisis averted. I hope.

We share tiramisu for dessert. I was too full to manage it on my own, but I had to finish off with something sweet. Our second bottle of wine seemed to disappear quicker than the first.

The bill arrives, and we argue over who pays. Jon refuses to accept any contribution from me. I begrudgingly let him cover my share. We are probably just as poor as each other, but I know he really wanted to do it. I tell him that I don’t want him making a habit of it, and that I can pay my own way.

We decide to leave Jon’s car in the city. He’s had more to drink than he expected, but I’ll drive him back in the morning to pick the car up. We walk hand-in-hand to the taxi rank. At least touching each other like this, is starting to feel … more normal. It’s nice.

I’m so glad we did this. It’s been nice to get out, and I guess, act more like a couple.

Once inside his apartment, I can’t wait to get out of my heels. The nearest place to sit is on the edge of Jon’s bed, the closest room from the entry. I unbutton my black winter coat and put it on the floor next to the bed with my handbag. I sit on the bed, and groan as my feet are freed. My head spins a little as I lay back, the softness of the quilt beneath me like a warm hug after battling the cold wind—even if it was just the dash from the taxi to the front door. Jon unbuttons his coat and hangs it in his wardrobe. He flashes me a wide smile.

“Something amusing?” I ask.

“Not particularly.”

I pat the bed next to me. “Come here.” I want to find out if I can get past kissing while I have the guts to try.
Thank you, red wine.

He slips off his shoes and crawls up beside me, leaning on his side.

“Thanks for dinner,” I say and then launch at him, sliding my hand behind his neck, pulling him half on top of me. I kiss him hard, my fingers entangled in the back of his hair, holding him firmly against me. I tease him by biting and sucking his soft lower lip. Our lips caress each other, and his hot tongue glides against mine as the urgency between us grows. In what feels like minutes, we are rendered breathless.

Slowly, he pulls away, and we catch our breath.

“Um, wow,” he says, and clears his throat.

The moment we stop, the gold threads in my top itch my skin. I sit up, and boldly peel the top off and launch it into the corner of the room. His eyes are all over me, feasting on my skin as I lay back down.

Jon hovers above me. The mood between us shifts up a gear. He hasn’t seen me in just a bra before. His gaze wanders down my torso. When his eyes come back to mine, I will him to touch me. I squirm beside him, snuggling in close. He brushes my hair away, and runs his finger along my jaw. Is he going to touch me?

His hands move down my neck, and my skin prickles with goose bumps. A groan slips from his lips as he caresses my breast, and I pull him down for another kiss. His chest labours as his hand eagerly continues to explore.
Should I take off the bra?
What will I be getting myself into if I do?
I trust him, and I know if we go too far, and I’m not ready, he’ll stop.

I reach behind me and unclip my bra. Jon untangles it from my arms. The touch of his fingers against my bare breasts sends a shiver through to the bone. My nipples pucker as he teases them. Shifting beneath him, I pull his shoulder towards me so his full weight is on top of my body. For so long I’ve wanted just this: to have a man on top of me. My chest heaves in and out as we kiss again, his erection throbbing hard against me.
Oh, God.
I push my hips into him and rub back and forth, feeling the wetness between my legs. The tingling between my legs, and thoughts of my many daydreams has me close to orgasm. I guess this has been a long time coming.
What a change to have an orgasm with someone else involved.

Jon groans loudly into my mouth as I move against him. His body shudders, and he pulls away from our kiss, eyes closed.

“No,” he gasps, ever so quietly, like I wasn’t meant to hear. He winces as he pulses against me.

What just happened?

Jon moves off me, and leaves the room. The bathroom door slams shut. My chest rises and falls, taking in much needed air as I stare at the dusty light fitting on the ceiling.
What’s he doing?

Wait a minute.
No. Did he just?
Oh Jon, you poor guy!
I can’t help but smile, knowing I had this effect on him. My smile quickly disappears. Jon must be mortified, and if he caught me smiling it would kill him. Water blasts in the bathroom, and the glass shower door bangs against its frame.

I guess it happens. He’s wanted to get close to me for so long that maybe it was all too much. I know it’s the furthest we’ve gone, but did I push him too far?

My skin prickles, but this time it’s from the cold. I put on one of Jon’s T-shirts, and slip under the covers to get warm. Eventually he’ll have to come out of there, and seeing me half-naked isn’t going to help. I close my eyes, listening to the shower still streaming. It’s as mesmerising as rain.

I wonder how long he’ll be.

****

“Sorry about last night,” Jon mumbles, his face buried in the pillow.

“Don’t worry about it. Sorry I fell asleep on you.” Not that we were going to stay up all night and make mad, passionate love.
Definitely not
. I knew this conversation would be awkward, particularly waking up next to him as I’ve never slept over before. His blond hair is messy with wild curls—it must have been wet when he finally came to bed.

“I didn’t have the heart to wake you. Besides, it was late.” He glances at me, but then snuggles deeper into his pillow, closing his eyes. I guess if he wants to talk about last night, he will. I’m not going to push.

Suffocating silence fills the room.
What am I supposed to say now?
I prop myself up on my elbows.

My head pounds. I rub my forehead, hoping it might help. “Why did you make me drink all that wine?”

“Me? You were the one that ordered the second bottle,” he says, his chuckle muffled under the covers.

“Oh yeah, I kinda did. It was delicious, though.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Well, next date night I’ll try and take it easy on the red.”

Jon’s face lights up. Did he think last night would be our last? Did he think he’d blown it? Metaphorically speaking, of course.

“I suppose we’d better get my car. I’ve got footy training in a couple of hours.”

“Okay.” I drag myself out of bed, and straighten my skirt and stockings, which have twisted throughout the night.

Jon pulls my side of the doona and snuggles underneath, just his eyes and messy hair visible.

Swimming in his T-shirt, I put my hands on my hips. “You reckon I wear this today?”

“Yup. You look amazing.” His eyes crinkle at the sides. I know he’s grinning under there.

“Shut up, I do.” I pull his T-shirt over my head, and toss it at his face.
Bullseye
. I catch him sneak a peek at me as I put on my bra, and search for my top.

“Okay, very funny. Where have you put it?” My hands return to my hips. His bluey-green eyes scan over my bra.
Is he already excited under there?

“No idea what you’re talkin’ about,” he says, not budging an inch.

I raise my eyebrows. “My top, smart arse.”

“Oh … your top.”
Like he didn’t know
. I’m tempted to sit on him and tickle him, but after last night, it’s too soon to be physical.

“I’m freezing, so get up and help me find it.” Jon slowly gets out of bed, in a T-shirt and boxers. He finds my top in the corner of the room. I pull it on, and head to the bathroom. I tie my hair up in a ponytail and splash some cold water on my face. Spreading some toothpaste on my finger, I run it over my teeth, and rinse.