Chrysalis (4 page)

Thibby shrugs and wraps the towel around his head. "He'll think you have a scar."

"He'll think I'm ugly. He won't want to go out with me."

"I thought
you
didn't want to go out with
him
?" Thibby sits on the side of the bath and rests his feet on the taps.

I shrug miserably and let my hair fall down again, grabbing a comb and trying to see how little of the left side of my face I can get away with covering. "I don't know; I really don't. I've been thinking about what Chelsea said. I guess Josh knows what he's doing; I mean, he did with the kiss and, I dunno."

I'd never dare tell Thibby, but I'm starting to think that maybe it's best to have my first time with a guy who knows what he's doing … who knows how to do it well. I'm starting to think that maybe I want to do it with Josh, although I'm still so nervous about it that the mere thought sends panicked alarms through my brain again.

Thibby snickers. "I still can't believe you asked a guy out by accident. Do you think I should get another tattoo?"

I turn away from him, slightly pissed off that he's turned the conversation away from what I want to discuss. "Maybe I should just tell him it was an accident."

"Charles thinks you should break up. I think you should just fuck the guy."

Thibby always seems certain about everything. He's a bit like Emmy in that way. I begin to wonder why I seem to have surrounded myself with confident friends, even though I'm usually nervous and panic-ridden. I've been worrying about having nothing in common with Josh, but really, I don't have much in common with Thibby either.

"I don't know if it was an accident," I say uncertainly. "Well, I know it
was
but I'm not sure it still is."

"You see." Thibby tugs the towel off his hair to see if it's getting any bluer. "This is why I always do sex before dates. Makes everything a lot simpler."

"Why are you changing your hair again?" I say quickly, because I don't want to start talking about sex in case it makes me panic too much. Especially not the casual kind that people like Thibby and Emmy seem to find so easy to get into and out of. "I thought you liked orange?"

"This is for Chelsea's baby." He grins, wrapping the towel back around his head. "I promised her I'd do it—blue for a girl or pink for a boy."

I stare at the mirror, thinking about Chelsea's baby, the tiny little life that pushed its way into all of our worlds, and turned her and Charles's upside down. It's already made a difference:  Chelsea doesn't go out with Emmy and her girl-friends anymore, and Charles has started saving money. "Does it scare you? Chelsea's baby, I mean. "

Thibby shrugs. "'Course it does. But it's cool. She'll have it; we'll all look after it. What else can you do?"

I remember when all Thibby ever wanted to do was party and get laid, when all Chelsea wanted to do was enjoy herself with her friends. When Charles thought a degree was the most important thing in the world.

Suddenly, the problem of me and Josh seems very small and insignificant. We're two people and we're getting on fairly well. Even though I still think he's completely the wrong kind of person for me, I do want to go out with him some more, and tonight is our third date.

"Do you want a condom, then?" Thibby cuts in, sending all my thoughts from their organised state of maturity into panicked disarray again. "You should take one—he'll be up for it and you're a stupid kid when you're drunk."

*~*~*

Josh arrives early and he's wearing a suit, as well. I stop before opening the door, and hiss at Emmy, "How do I look?"

"Depends; are you trying to say 'ravish me'?"

"Emmy!"

She sticks her tongue out and leaves. I inwardly curse at the fact that all of my friends seem to have gone through this vital step and find it terribly funny that I haven't. Apart from Charles, of course, but it's never going to be an issue for him. I briefly wonder how it must be to be Charles, never thinking of sex at all. Then I try to get my sanity back and wrench the door open.

"Hey, Luke." Josh gives me that goofy smile again when he sees me wearing a waistcoat, and very deliberately looks me up and down. I feel like curling up and dying right there; I don't want his eyes running all over me, as if he fucking owns me! I fist my hands in my jacket pockets, feeling myself flushing a little as one curls around a condom that Thibby managed to shove into my jacket before he left. I really hope Josh can't see it or tell that it's there.

We head out into town. Josh has got his arm around my waist again and I'm not flinching away from it this time. It feels alright, good so far, although I'm still all screwed up inside with anticipation for this evening. I'm terrified of what might happen and still, after all that heartfelt soul-searching, not sure what I want to happen.

"No offers, no deals, just like I promised." Josh has a smile on now that I recognise and I start to panic a little when I do—because it's Emmy's look, the 'ooh yeah, I am getting it tonight' look.

Josh hugs me a little closer and I wonder if he can feel my heart hammering like crazy in my chest. It sounds loud enough for the whole city to hear. We stop outside a restaurant and I gulp a little, because it is quite a posh, expensive-looking place. I glance sideways and see Josh looking at me, still grinning. No doubt about it, he's trying his hardest to get lucky tonight.

"This place look good enough?" he asks, kind of smirking a little, and I just nod, mute. The meal passes all too quickly, seeming like a blur of anticipation and uncertainty. We talk about stuff, his family, my family; he's an only child, as it turns out, and almost an only grandchild, so he's had plenty of people around to spoil him for most of his life. We kind of talk briefly about university life, but there's not a huge amount to say.

I learn that as well as Chemistry and rugby, he also plays the trumpet and piano, does life drawing classes, and writes for a science magazine. He learns that I'm sort of boring, really, although he does actually manage to look interested when I tell him about Charles's and my failed comic project. We mention Chelsea a little, but it's obvious that Josh doesn't know what questions are safe to ask, and he's not very comfortable asking them.

And then we're heading back—back to his place. I realise, as the taxi rolls up, that I should say something, that I should walk away or decline his offer of coffee. But I don't; I just get into the car, realising as I do that whatever happens now, I probably just count as an idiot for accepting it.

Josh doesn't hold my hand or anything in the taxi, so I'm stupidly nervous as we get out. There's a brief kiss on the step up to the door, and then he's unlocking it, and whispering, "All my housemates are out … "

"Ah." My throat is too dry to manage anything else. I'm so nervous, I almost run down back to the taxi again.

"Josh … " I manage to croak out.

He turns, looking concerned, which I would find touching if I wasn't so scared. "What? Are you okay?"

"J-Josh, how far is this gonna go?" I whisper.

He frowns, looking even more concerned and slightly pissed as well. "Luke … the hell?"

I blink. "I-I mean, I-I don't know if I want to … "

He's got the door open now and is standing with it open, looking confused. "What? You don't want to come in?"

I stare at the open door, and then sort of stumble through it. He switches the lights on and I fall onto the sofa, trying not to hyperventilate. I'm alone in a flat with a six foot tall rugby player who I've just strung along for three dates.

Josh goes into the kitchen for a bit, which gives me time to breathe. I start to recover a little, getting rid of the nervousness and trying to get excited about things. He comes back with two mugs. "You want coffee?"

"Yeah, that's why I came here … " Except I say it in the wrong voice, because he starts looking slightly miserable. He sits down next to me, not touching me or anything, just looking a bit sad, and I start to feel crap. I've just messed up his third and most expensive date, and I really want another of those awesome kisses. I take a deep breath, because this is it now. I have to either do something or end it. Either admit this was all a mistake or admit that it wasn't.

"Josh … " He looks up at me and gives a sad-sounding sigh, and then interrupts me, just when I'd decided what to say.

"Look, Luke, I don't know what I've done that's messed this up, but I'm sorry, okay?" I just stare at him, pissed off that he's interrupted me. "I really enjoyed this evening. It was awesome going out with you, you were real sweet and everything, and now suddenly you're flinching away every time I look at you and you pretty much sound like you want to end this."

"Do you?" I whisper.

Josh gives a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his hair, although there isn't that much hair to run it through. "No! Hell no! I've really enjoyed going out with you. Ever since I first met you, you've been real sweet and I just, God, I just love going out with someone who doesn't spend the whole time acting stupid or talking about sports. I thought you were enjoying it, too, even though my mates think I'm mad. I thought tonight we were even going to … " He stops and just sighs, although I know where that sentence was going.

I suddenly feel a rush of warmth. Because despite the fact that he's a smirking, six foot tall, rugby shirt-wearing, totally-not-my-type guy, he actually said he wanted to go out with me. He wanted it! Wanted me! That's a kind of buzzing feeling.

"I did enjoy it, too," I say, except now I'm really frustrated with myself, because that doesn't sound right. It sounds like I'm about to break up with him and I can see him getting more miserable with every word. "Josh, I'm sorry. I really fancy you."

It's not what I wanted to say, barely even close. But it seems the quickest way. Except it doesn't cheer him up; it just makes him look slightly angrier.

"Yeah, you said." Josh gives a bitter sigh. "Is it because I'm another hot rugby player you can get to screw you? Is that why you've been stringing this out so long?" He scowls.

Suddenly, I'm angry. Not scared or frightened or crazily brain-dead, but actually, ragingly angry. Angry at him for being irritated at me, when he's the one doing all the irritating things. "I've never had sex before, okay? There. I'm some stupid virgin doing a crappy subject who somehow ended up going out with an awesome guy." The worst thing is, I'm starting to tear up a little bit. I bet my face is going all red and it's hard to be taken seriously when crying. "I-I'm just terrified about sleeping with you …  I-It might hurt, and you know what you're doing and I don't, and you won't want me and why do you have to be so bloody perfect at everything?" I'm properly losing it now and he's just staring at me. And then the bastard starts to smile a little. He's smiling. His non-putting-out date is sitting on the sofa yelling and almost crying, and he's smiling!

Josh reaches out and cups my cheek, and I make this weird gulping noise and shut up, although I'm still feeling pretty angry and hoping for an apology or an explanation at least, but instead, he just makes some soothing noises, and then reaches forward and swipes his thumb underneath my visible eye, pushing the tears away. "It's fine, Luke."

No, it's not fine, I've been on three dates, and between us, we've messed up all of them, but I don't know how to say that, so I just keep staring at him. He sighs and smiles again, but it's a sad smile. "Christ, I didn't know you were a virgin. God, Luke, I thought you were one of those guys who just wanted to screw around. I was just hoping that maybe if we kept going out you might want more. Want … me, even."

"Well, yeah I'm a virgin," I mumble.

Josh looks straight into my eyes. "Do you still want to go out with me?"

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, in case I start crying again or saying something stupid. I know what I want now, and I just want this. No complications, no worrying about whether he's my 'type'. Just this.

Josh leans forward. "Well then, maybe we should just take this evening slowly."

*~*~*

We talk a bit more, not about random pointless things, but about us. I tell him his friends are dicks and he agrees; he tells me I need to start saying when I don't want to do stuff rather than waiting 'til it gets to be too much, and then panicking, and I agree. I tell him I'm afraid of being unwanted. He tells me he's afraid of screwing up and losing things he cares about. I tell him how worried and nervous I am about Chelsea's baby, and he holds me close and shivers a little, but I don't ask why.

It feels good being close to someone—being close to
him
.

He's being slow, just like he promised, but I feel so comfortable that I let my hand move down. Then his moves down as well, and then just as things are starting to get interesting, I twist around on the sofa and my hair slides back off my head. Josh pauses under my hands.

I close my eyes.

I can feel his breath gently against my forehead as he bends down to kiss me—to kiss
it
. Everything's going so well, and I don't want to cry and mess it up again, so I take a deep breath, and whisper, "Sorry, I know … I know it's kinda ugly."

"Luke, you are fucking amazing and seriously beautiful." He doesn't sound freaked out or disgusted. "And this is a part of you."