Chapter 16 #3
Not that I’ve got all that much experience.
Apart from Ludwig from the swimming team, who was, it should be said, a pretty average first kiss, there’s only been Eduardo, on holiday in Andalucía with my parents a few years ago.
He was a holiday rep in our hotel, and his kisses were pretty uninspiring too.
Colin’s kissing is better. Better than anything.
He pulls me to him and I wrap my legs around his hips. My pulse quickens, my head stops thinking as I pull him to me with my legs, and Colin gives a throaty growl.
Kissing in the water is tiring—I know that from the time with Ludwig. We’re in the deepest part of the pool. Colin pushes me back against the edge and pins me there with his arms.
“Now you’re kissing me,” I say as we briefly come up for air.
“Now I’m kissing you,” he repeats. My stomach lurches as he strokes a strand of hair out of my face. His touch is careful. My whole body tingles. “I bet you didn’t enjoy it.”
I have to grin. “No, I didn’t.”
“Thought as much,” he says, and does it again.
I have to shut my eyes. “Are you enjoying it?” I whisper, between two kisses.
“Fuck, I’m loving it, Olive,” he says hoarsely, a voice that shoots directly between my legs.
Why is he suddenly being honest? I wasn’t prepared for that.
I thought he’d say, “Not at all,” dripping with irony, because those are the rules we’re playing by.
But for the first time, this thing with us doesn’t seem like a game.
It seems like something real. I can deal with the version of Colin I’m used to.
But when it comes to this one, I’m done for. But in a good way.
I’m sure that he feels me shudder when he slips a hand onto the back of my neck.
Then he plunges his hands deeper, to my bum.
I grab the pool wall behind me, I clamp my teeth together because the movement hurts, but I still push myself up, even as Colin lifts me.
I wrap my legs around him again as I sit in front of him on the edge, bending down.
Colin puts his hands on my knees, from where they roam up my thighs until he’s holding my hips.
It’s only when I see the goose bumps on his bare forearms that I budge back slightly.
“You realize we’ve got to walk back to school dripping wet?” I ask.
Colin laughs quietly. “Well, my clothes are dry.”
I snort. “I hate you, Fantino. You pulled me in.”
“Like you pulled yourself out again.”
I say nothing because he’s right.
“Go and undress. In the changing rooms for all I care, but you have to get those wet clothes off.”
“Then what? Walk back naked?”
“I guess my stuff will fit you,” he says gruffly.
“What about you?”
“There are things in my locker in the sports center.”
So here it is. The moment Colin Fantino offers me his clothes. Which I obviously find equal parts romantic and ridiculous. Or maybe it’s mostly ridiculous. No, romantic. Whatever. Colin Fantino is offering me his clothes.
“OK,” I manage.
“OK?” He laughs. “How about thank you, Olive Garden?”
“Only if you stop calling me that stupid name.”
“You can freely admit that you’ve started to like it.”
“You seriously think I like being called after an American restaurant chain?”
“Yeah, I do,” he replies, without missing a beat.
Ha, maybe you’re right, Fantino . . .
“Stop that now and kiss me again.” I come to sit back on the edge and pull him by the shoulders between my legs, then I lean down to him. Colin is only too happy to oblige. I’m just about to rejoin him in the water, when a voice makes us spin around.
“You can’t be serious!”
Fuck.
I stare into the outraged face of Ms. Barnett, who is clearly on wing duty tonight. I’ve generally felt more or less out of danger in the swimming center at this time of night, but of course I’ve never been entirely certain that no teacher doing their rounds would come across me.
“Olive? Colin? Get out of the water right now.”
I glance briefly at Colin and hastily stand up as Ms. Barnett comes closer.
She shakes her head at the sight of my dripping clothes.
Colin rests both hands on the edge of the pool and presses himself up, but then, after a few seconds, he sinks back into the water.
For a moment, I’m confused, but then I shiver even more.
“Are you OK?”
“Yes, I . . .” Colin hesitates. “Maybe I should check my blood sugar.” He lifts his head. “You really fuck me up, Olive Garden.”
I flush.
“Just get the fuck out of the water,” I mutter, which is fortunately drowned out by Ms. Barnett’s tirade.
“Can I just cool down a bit first?” he hisses, swimming the few meters to the ladder in slow motion. He doesn’t seem to have entirely succeeded, because he’s got both hands over his crotch as he walks toward us.
“Unbelievable! This is absolutely unbelievable,” Ms. Barnett says as Colin drips all over the already soaked tiles and throws me his clothes once he’s fished in his hoodie pocket.
“May I go change now, ma’am?” he asks, in his provocative Fantino way, but there’s a softness somehow. Or maybe I’m just imagining that because his equally soft mouth was on top of mine only a few minutes ago. “Or do you have to drag me in chains through the freezing night?”
“That would help you out, right?”
“Olive, Colin, that’s enough,” declares Ms. Barnett, and I immediately regret my remark.
You’d have to have a death wish to provoke her because, however much I like her, she can bawl you out like a sergeant major.
Even after seven years and more at this school, I’m still scared of her at times like this, though I know that by the morning, she’ll be just as friendly toward me as everyone else.
Ms. Barnett is anything but vindictive, but she’s not to be trifled with when it comes to the school rules—it’s not without reason that she’s one of the best houseparents in the place.
I have to give her that, even when I don’t like it. Now, for instance.
“Go and get dressed.” Her eyes narrow to dangerous slits. “In your respective changing rooms,” she adds warningly as I follow Colin. “And in three minutes, you’ll both be fully dressed and outside the door, or you’ll wish you’d never left your bedrooms.”