I sat up, and there was Percy in the doorway. He started spectacularly and clapped a hand to his chest when I moved.
“Were you pretending to sleep?” he hissed.
“No, I didn’t realize you were lurking.”
“I’m not lurking. I’m . . . thinking.”
“Well, do you want to come do your thinking in here?” I scooted toward the wall and patted the empty space in the bed beside me.
He stood still for a moment, then shut the door behind his back before making his way over to the bed, tentative and shy like he was crossing a ballroom to ask me to dance. When he lay down, we were face to face, so close we were sharing our breath, until I rolled over so I could hear him clearly if he spoke. There was a pause, then he slid an arm around my waist and pulled me against him, his body fitting around mine like we were a set of quotation marks. With both of us in our nightshirts, I could feel his bare knees against the backs of mine, his legs curled up but still so long that he had to press his toes against the bottoms of my feet or else they’d hang off the end of the bed. My fingers slid between his as they found their rest around my waist and God, I was so happy just to be with him but also God, I really wished we were doing this with no 9
clothes on, and I could not understand how those two things could exist so equally weighted inside me.
I could feel his breath against the back of my neck when he leaned in, nose brushing the top of my spine, and I was sure he would whisper something soft and romantic, or, even better, perhaps an invitation to have him right then and there.
But instead he said, “Monty . . . are you flexing?”
“What?” Thank god for the darkness, for I felt myself go red to my toes. “Of course not.”
“Christ, you are shameless.”
“Well, I’m trying to impress you!”
“Oh, is that it?” He pressed a knuckle into my ribs, right in the spot he knows tickles, and I squirmed with a giggle, too loud for the silent flat, my stomach going soft. He tried to smother my laugh with a hand clapped over my mouth, but I leaned into a childhood habit before I could resist and bit him. He let go with a yelp.
“Unhand me, you rogue.”
“You’re an animal.” He kissed me on the back of the neck, then pressed his forehead to the same spot. “Is it all right . . .” His voice petered, like he lost his courage halfway through, and he cleared his throat. “Is it all right if we don’t do anything yet?”
I twisted around to look at him. “Do any of what thing?”
“You know. I haven’t done this.” He squeezed my hand, but when I went on staring blankly, he sighed, nose crinkling with embarrassment. “I’ve never been with anyone before.”
“Oh. Oh!” I rolled over onto my back so that our twined hands rested upon my stomach.
“Really?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
10
“I am surprised. Shocked. You didn’t kiss like a virgin in Venice. Or Paris. You climbed right onto my lap—”
“Stop it.”
“—and you knew exactly where to put your—”
He jabbed me in the ribs again. “Is it so strange to think I’ve gone this long without it?”
“No, no. It’s more that I find it hard to understand how every single person you meet doesn’t want to climb you like a ladder.”
He laughed, his eyes flitting downward so his lashes cast thin shadows upon his cheeks.
“Yes, well, I’ve been rather occupied for most of my life with only wanting you.”
“Oh, Perce.” I touched my forehead to his. “You’re so monogamous.”
He hooked his leg around mine, both of us so dewy with the heat that our skin met with a very unromantic squelch, then buried his face in my shoulder so that his words came out muffled. “Is that all right? If we hold off for a bit on any . . .”
“Deflowering?”
“In a word.”
“Course it’s all right. Percy, of course.”
“Really?”
“Did you think that it wouldn’t be?”
“I don’t know. I’m new to all this and you’re not.” That last bit stung, though I wasn’t certain why, for it was true. I didn’t say anything. “I’m not as handsome as you, remember? People don’t throw themselves at me.”
“I’ve been throwing myself at you for years. It’s your own damn fault you never noticed.” He raised his head, and I leaned in for a kiss, a momentary stutter in the action borne from years of 11
holding back every time we were close enough. He hooked a finger in the neck of my shirt, pulling me closer to him, and what I had intended to be a light peck turned open-mouthed and deep-breathed.
Until I pulled away. Reluctantly. “I thought you wanted to hold off.”
“Well.” A creased appeared between his eyebrows, and I loved how disappointed he looked by our kiss cut short. “We don’t have to keep our hands entirely to ourselves.”
I laughed, and he settled down against me, his palm cupping my rib cage, fingertips against my heartbeat. We both fell asleep before it went any further than that, exhausted from the sun and the water and rolling around in sand and mutual adoration all afternoon.
Supremely chaste in all but thought.
And less chaste the next morning after he left me alone. It’s maddening that Percy’s and my fondness has finally been acknowledged as mutual and yet I’m keeping myself company like I’m fourteen years old again. Though at fourteen, I could not have imagined this flat or this summer we’d had, or that any life outside my father’s house was about to unfurl like a carpet at my feet.
Or the growing dread that the first step I took upon it, I’d fall hard on my face, and Percy would leave me behind.
Felicity executes her plan to get me and Percy alone and horizontal in the least subtle way possible: by announcing over breakfast, “I think we should have a party away from the flat.”
Scipio and Ebrahim, both taking the meal with us, look up from their food in almost comical unison. Scipio sets his knife across his plate, then says, “That seems . . . out of character for you to request.”
12
Felicity presses on with unnecessary enthusiasm. “I was doing some reading, and it’s Assumption Day this week, so most things on the island will be closed for the festivities and I don’t think there’s any point in you working on the ship that day and also you’ve made a lot of progress on the repairs and everyone’s back from the excursions and we’ll all be off soon so why not have a bit of a gathering and also my birthday is coming up.”
“That”—I press my toe into her shin under the table and give her a pointed look—“is too many reasons.”
Ebrahim spears a half a fig and looks to his captain. “We’re due for a night off. The crew has been working hard. We could go into Finikia for some food and cards. They’ve got good bars there.” My first reaction is wanting to go along before I remember the whole thing is a ploy I am not allowed to partake in. Though he didn’t have to make it so goddamn exciting.
“I thought your birthday was in March,” Percy says suddenly to Felicity.