Chapter 32 #2
We get up again so that I can fetch a condom and he can lock the door.
Then we undress. Hastily and impatiently.
I’m faster, because Henry has to get rid of that bandage before he can slip out of his shirt.
I face him, wearing only my underwear, so that I can undo his buttons and run my fingers over his bare chest. He shivers, and I get goose bumps.
I reach for his belt buckle and pull him to me with a slight jerk.
Henry groans, he actually groans, and I want to do it again.
There’s a huge amount of pent-up energy in my belly when Henry puts a hand on my bum and presses me against him.
I can feel him, I can smell him. When he grabs his belt, I hold on to his wrist. He exhales, a quiet sound, as I slip my finger under his waistband, only a little way, then pull it out again.
There’s this pleading in Henry’s eyes, which makes me a little dizzy.
I undo his belt, he reaches for the zip. We keep kissing as I push him to the bed. Finally, he’s lying beneath me again, in boxers and his unbuttoned shirt, as I kneel over him and undo my bra.
Beneath his shirt I can see the blue strips of tape running from the nape of his neck to his shoulder, reminding me that I have to be careful.
Henry seems to have forgotten. Pain twitches in his face as he raises his arms. I immediately take his wrists and push them back to the mattress.
I hold them there as I slowly sink down onto him.
He clenches his hands into fists beneath my fingers.
As I press myself against his erection, he shuts his eyes.
I can feel that he wants to move, and not just his hips.
It must be a bittersweet torture not to do so.
His arms are tense, his muscles rock-hard, as I run my hands over them.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” I whisper, and stroke my fingertip over Henry’s chest. I wait till he nods, then sink my mouth onto his belly. His muscles tense beneath my lips. His skin is warm and smooth. It trembles as I run my tongue over it.
His arms quiver as I reach the waistband of his boxer shorts. I put my fingers on his hip bones and raise my head to look at him. Henry’s mouth is open, his lips are red. I don’t look away as I wrap my hand around him.
The groan that escapes Henry shoots directly to my core. His head falls back as I move my hand and finally slip it under the fabric. I feel him throbbing. I hear his quiet panting, which grows louder as I carry on.
“Emma,” he begs, feeling for my knees. I bend over him, reach for the condom and only roll off him to slip off my knickers. Henry’s jaw is tense as he pulls down his boxers, which looks laborious with only one hand. I reach for his arm.
“Shall I . . . ?”
He immediately nods. I jam the condom packet between my lips as I pull down his boxers. Then I rip it open and look him in the eye.
“Do you want this?” Henry asks, the way he does every time.
I nod. “Do you?”
“Yes, I do.”
My fingertips tingle as I slip the condom onto him. It’s different from usual, when Henry’s heavy body pushes me into the pillows. It’s slower and less greedy, cautious and deliberate, but I don’t find it any less thrilling. Quite the reverse.
We both hold our breath as I guide Henry’s erection to my center.
I let myself sink onto him, I’ve almost forgotten how indescribable this feels.
The pressure, the sweet pain, which only disappears when I force my muscles to relax.
I try not to close my eyes: I want to see his face.
I want to be able to stop if I’m hurting him.
Henry closes his fingers around my knee as I raise my hips and sink down lower again.
His grip tightens, and I do it again. His eyelids flutter closed, he opens his mouth.
He fills me completely. I move faster. I don’t know if he’s in pain or on the edge of it when this furrow appears between his eyebrows.
He moves his hips, comes toward me, thrusts into me so deeply that I throw my head back and bite my bottom lip so I don’t make any sound.
Our breathing is deeper, and there’s a fine film of sweat on his skin as I trace my fingers over his groin. A shiver runs through Henry’s body, and he arches his back. I tense my muscles and feel him growing rigid beneath me. It’s only a few seconds until his body relaxes again.
The heat of him pulsates in my belly. I don’t mind that I didn’t come. It’s not always like it is in films, and that’s all right.
It’s incredible lying next to him and kissing him until it’s time to get dressed because Henry’s got Latin and I’ve got history.
His gaze rests heavily on me as he sits on his bed and I pull my tights and skirt back on.
His hair’s messed up, his lips are warm as we kiss again before leaving his room.
Outside, Henry takes my hand as we walk downstairs.
He smiles, and I’ve never felt as beautiful.
At first I was afraid that anyone would be able to tell at a glance what Henry and I had just been doing, that we’d been having sex while the others were in class.
I was particularly careful about redoing my hair in Henry’s mirror, but the look Tori gives me and her telltale grin as I sit down leaves me in little doubt that she has some idea of where I spent the last hour. Fortunately, she doesn’t comment.
“Has Henry asked you to the New Year Ball?” she whispers while Ms. Barnett writes on the board.
This is the first I’ve heard of there even being one. “No.”
“Well, there’s plenty of time,” she says. “But you’ll never guess who asked me.”
“Sinclair?” I suggest.
Tori looks at me as if I’m out of my mind. “God, no.”
“Quiet, please,” says Ms. Barnett as she turns toward us.
“Valentine asked me,” Tori whispers, staring at the board. She bites her bottom lip.
“Valentine?” I whisper back.
“Yes.” Tori beams.
I’m on the point of asking what Sinclair thinks about that, but I hold my tongue. “That’s—that’s great, Tori.”
“He’s so gorgeous.” She sighs, and I can’t help thinking about the way he spoke to Henry after his accident.
Whether or not you like someone, it was downright unnecessary of him.
Especially as I still don’t quite get what Tori sees in Val.
But maybe he’s different when it’s just the two of them.
I suppose their family backgrounds and the expectations bound up with them help to bring them together.
And I’m glad for Tori if she’s got someone she can talk to about stuff like the responsibility and social pressure her surname puts on her.
“I’m sure Henry will ask you soon,” Tori whispers. “What will you wear?”
“I didn’t even know there was a ball,” I admit.
“Then we’ll have to go dress shopping together.” She sounds properly excited.
“Victoria, Emma, if what you have to tell each other is so interesting, perhaps you could share it with everyone else.”
Tori goes red and lowers her head in embarrassment. Before I get a chance to apologize, the gong goes, and there’s a sudden announcement over the loudspeakers.
“Would Emma Wiley please come to the school office. That’s Emma Wiley, to the school office.”
I freeze, feeling everyone look at me. I’ve never been summoned to the head’s office in my whole school career. Never. I’ve never done anything to get into trouble. Until I got the idea of taking photos of the maths exam paper. But nobody saw that. Or did they? My heart starts to race.
Tori looks inquiringly at me, but I ignore her.
Ms. Barnett appears equally confused as she nods to me, so I’m sure this must be about something else. Maybe Mrs. Sinclair wants to talk to me about Henry. Yes. Yes, that’s what it’ll be. No reason to panic. God, I have to slow my breathing.
My thoughts continue to circle as I walk through the hallways to the office. Maybe I’m driving myself insane for no reason at all. My knees are trembling as I reach the secretary’s office. Mr. Harper is sitting at his desk. He lifts his head. “Go straight through, Emma.”
He sounds friendly. So this has to be something harmless. Or else he doesn’t know what I did.
My panicked heart is pounding right in my throat as I knock and open the door. All my blood rushes to my feet as I see Mr. Ward. And I’m sure of it. I’m busted.
“Emma, thank you for coming.” Mrs. Sinclair isn’t smiling. I feel numb as I shut the door. “Sit down.”
It’s so humiliating. Have they already phoned Mum?
“Emma, do you have any idea why we want to speak to you?” Mrs. Sinclair asks. She sounds calm. Mr. Ward’s face is unreadable.
I don’t know what to do. Deny it? Fess up in the hope that it will make things better?
Will I be expelled?
I don’t want to be expelled. I did it to help Henry. For his future, and now . . . It was so stupid of me.
“No.” The word is out, so there’s nothing to do. I sit stock-still as Mr. Ward laughs scornfully. He crosses his arms over his chest.
“I saw you in my office, where the maths exam papers were kept. I didn’t want to suspect you of anything, but on marking your exam, it was clear that you were familiar with the questions. You didn’t make a single mistake.”
“What?” I blurt. “I didn’t . . .” Fuck, think before you speak. “I didn’t see the questions.”
“So it was pure chance that you were in an office where you had no business to be?”
“You told me to meet you there!”
“I told you to see me in the meeting room, 2150.” He says to Mrs. Sinclair, “I always lock my office, but that afternoon, I must have forgotten. But how could I have guessed that a pupil here would do such a thing?”
“I didn’t . . .” I try again.
“Can you prove it?”
“That will do. I’m leading this conversation.” Mrs. Sinclair exchanges glances with Mr. Ward, then looks at me. “Emma, I have to take Mr. Ward’s accusation seriously. But I want to hear your version of events. Were you in his office or not?”
My mouth is dry, my lips are numb.
Tell the truth, tell the truth.