Num8ers - By Rachel Ward Page 0,49

was so close, it was sort of distorted, but the number was there, the same as ever. As he moved away, he became more familiar, his features morphing back into the Spider I knew. He frowned, let go of me, and held up both his hands.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” I said quickly. “Don’t be.” I reached up and cupped the back of his neck and drew him down to me, and we kissed again. And we lost ourselves in each other, gently exploring the faces and features we’d thought we knew so well. Standing in the rain, in the dark, in a totally different dimension.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I lay back on the blanket, instinctively crossing my arms over my tits. He was trying to touch me there, to kiss me. I knew my arms were fending him off, I didn’t want to, it was just so difficult. If we were going to do this, I told myself, I’d have to trust him, to let him in. I made myself lift up my arms, right over my head, so my hands were resting on the hay behind me. It was a willful act — I was laying myself open to him. He responded eagerly, kissing, nibbling, and sucking. It was wonderful. And shocking. It was too new and too weird, and I found myself stepping away in my mind. I became an observer, and the absurdity of us naked in a smelly barn, the bizarre sensations all over my skin, inside me, the tension of it all, forced stuttering laughter out of my mouth.

Spider stopped what he was doing and looked up at me. His face was deadly serious — I’d never seen him so serious.

“You’re laughing.”

“No.” But I couldn’t hold down my nervous giggles.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, ’course not. It’s just…I’m just…not used to it. I’m sorry.” The laughter drained away as I saw how hurt he was.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ve never done this before. I’m nervous. It’s fine. Come here.” I wasn’t far from crying now, all my emotions way too near the surface. I drew him down to me, kissing him tenderly, urging him with my mouth to kiss me back. It was better when we were kissing. We relaxed in the softness of each other’s mouths, the wetness. It brought me back into my body. I was there with him again.

He caressed me and stroked me, nervous energy trembling out of the ends of his fingers. He fumbled in the dark, and we did it. We really did it — there, on an itchy blanket, with the dust from the hay and the smell of cow shit in our nostrils. The hay bales beneath us may have rocked a bit, but the earth didn’t move. It was awkward, mechanical — all over in a minute or so — not worth worrying about. But afterward, we were different. Not because of the sex, because of the closeness, the intimacy. We covered ourselves up as much as we could with the two blankets and the old green coat, and huddled together. The rain had washed away his sour smell, there was only a slight comforting muskiness as I nestled into him, with my head on his chest.

“Have you done that before?” I asked.

“Yeah, ’course. Loads of times.” His lie hung in the air. “Well, once, anyway.” I waited. “OK, I’ve done it once now. With you.”

I smiled, and held him closer.

Even then, after all that, he was still fizzing with energy, his hands so restless. He was running his fingers through my short, short hair, while the other hand moved over my arm, my stomach, my side. He shifted over so we were face-to-face, and softly traced the line of my jaw with his finger.

“Funny, you seem more like a girl with your hair short. Can see your face.” He kissed my forehead, my nose, my chin, down in a line. “Your pretty face.”

No one had ever called me pretty before. I’m fairly sure no one had ever thought it, either.

“I thought I told you never to say anything nice to me.”

He snorted. “Oh, yeah, I promised, didn’t I? That doesn’t count, though.”

“Why not? A promise is a promise, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but that was before I fell in love with you.”

It was too much, too new. I reacted how I always had. I said the thing I always said.

“Fuck off!”

“OK, forget it.” His hurt was so intense it was physical, a black moon hanging over us where we