Unconditional (11 page)

‘How were things with your dad?’

‘Okay. He was trying to hint about getting back with my mum.’

Joe strokes a curl away from my face.

‘Maybe he just wants to make amends. You’re lucky; I haven’t seen my dad since I was five.’

‘That’s awful. Did he just up and leave?’

I try to imagine Joe as a small boy, crying for his dad, and my heart hurts for him. Joe laughs, but it’s a bitter sound rather than an amused one.

‘Sort of. He’s in prison for armed robbery. Mum never got over it.’

He looks angry, and I’m starting to understand why he’s so tetchy about having been to prison.

‘You’re not like him you know,’ I say on impulse, and snuggle into his chest He wraps his arm round me and I lean up on tiptoe to kiss him.

What starts as a tender moment quickly turns into a full on passionate kiss, with my butt pressed up against the edge of the table and his hand coiled in my hair, tugging on the back of my head gently. I explore his mouth with my tongue, the warm taste of him and the feel of his arms round me and the smell of oil and aftershave and sweat all combining to make my head spin. I’m lost. I’m so caught up in sensation that I scoot back on the table slightly and open my legs to pull him in between them, my feet hooking around the back of his calves. We’re pressed together so tightly I can feel the heat of his body through his trousers and my jeans. I want to take his clothes off. I want him to take my clothes off. I arch into him, giving an involuntary whimper when his hand slips up my top and runs lightly over my bra. I don’t freeze or try to stop him this time; I want him to touch me. He cups one breast in his hand and rolls my nipple gently between his fingers. I gasp at the sudden intense pleasure of it and kiss him harder, my tongue diving into his mouth. When he pulls away I think he’s going to stop and disappointment zings through me until I realise he’s lowering his head to my chest. He
nips lightly at my nipple where it peeks between my bra and my top and for a second I freeze, torn between how good it feels and the realisation that I’ve never been this far with a boy. It feels so unbearably intimate that I want to both pull away and push myself further into his mouth all at the same time. His hand is in between my legs, pressing through my jeans, massaging in small insistent circles. I feel almost dizzy, an urgent feeling growing in my belly that I can’t put a name to, but I know I don’t want him to stop. Yet when his hand goes to my zipper I push it away without thinking and he straightens up, his breath coming in pants.

‘Sorry, I got carried away,’ he gasps, resting his chin against my forehead. I rearrange my top and bra, too shy to meet his eyes. Not just because of what we’ve just done, but also because part of me wishes I hadn’t moved his hand away. Me, the good girl, the virgin, wanting to do it right here and now on a messy table in a grubby office. I’m not sure if I feel embarrassed or liberated. I bury my face in his chest to hide my conflicting emotions and he strokes my hair as if petting a kitten. My own breath is just as shaky as his.

‘You turn me on so much,’ he whispers in my ear. I love that, love that I can hear in his voice and feel in his body how much he wants me. It makes me feel sexy and grown up and aware of my own body in ways I’ve only read about before.

Even so, I’m aware of how soon all this is, even though it feels like I’ve known him for ages and can’t imagine how there ever was a life before Joe. It seems crazy that it was just over a week ago I met him at Dannii’s and thought how rude he was. How he so wasn’t my type.

The thought that the way he is with me now could all be an act, that as Dannii prophesised he’ll be gone as soon as he gets what he wants, chills me and I pull away, wrapping
my arms around myself. He looks down in surprise at my sudden withdrawal.

‘Are you okay? I didn’t mean to do anything you didn’t want me to.’

‘I do want you to, that’s the problem,’ I blurt out. He looks at me in bemusement.

‘I want to. Go further, I mean. But I don’t want it to be…’ I wave my hand, unable to put my feelings into words, not wanting to seem needy. But he seems to know exactly what I mean, grabbing my hand and pressing my fingertips to his lips.

‘I want it to be special too,’ he murmurs, his eyes gazing so intensely into mine that I have to look away. ‘Why do you think I’m trying so hard to hold off? Normally I’d…’ he trails off, and I flinch at his words, aware he was about to mention his past experiences. Or one of them. I swallow as I ask a question that’s been on my mind for the past two days, needing to know even though I don’t want to.

‘Have there been many?’

He frowns for a moment before he realises what I mean.

‘Girls? Not really. I’ve had two relationships, and there were a couple of girls at parties…only one since I got out.’

I feel my face fall at that. I had assumed there had been no one since prison, but why wouldn’t there have been? He’s gorgeous, mature, cool. Everything I’m not. He peers at me, still frowning.

‘It doesn’t matter does it?’

He looks so worried and strangely vulnerable that I can’t help smiling.

‘No, of course not.’

Okay, I’m lying, I’m insanely jealous at the thought of him so much as kissing anyone else, but I know I need to get a grip. He’s eighteen, of course he’s had relationships.

‘You don’t think it’s weird?’ I ask, ‘that I’ve never really
had a boyfriend?’ I cringe as I say it. Joe looks thoughtful.

‘Not weird,’ he says slowly, choosing his words, ‘but I wouldn’t have expected it. You’re pretty, and smart, and I can’t understand why you wouldn’t have all the boys chasing you. So I was a bit surprised.’

‘You don’t think I’m a prude?’

Joe snorts with laughter and I have to laugh with him. After all, we were just getting all hot and steamy in his boss’s office.

‘I think it’s a good thing,’ he says seriously. ‘Too many girls just give it up, you know? I know that’s a bit hypocritical, because I’m a guy and I’ve had one-nighters, but it’s nice to meet a girl who’s got respect for herself.’

I roll my eyes at that. Typical boy opinion. But even so I’m pleased that’s what he thinks about me.

‘I really, really want you,’ he says seriously now, ‘but I want it to be the right time. And place.’

He motions at the desk and I laugh, feeling any tension drain from my body. I jump down off the table, steadying myself on his arm.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ he murmurs and I follow him out of the garage as he does his last minute checks and then locks up. I link my arm through his as we walk to the bus stop, feeling relaxed and happy, my worries forgotten.

For the moment at least.

Monday morning arrives and I remember my appointment at the doctors. I talk Dannii into coming with me, even though I know she has English on Monday mornings.

‘I’ll get behind,’ she protests grumpily when I knock on her door and explain where I’m going.

‘You’re already behind,’ I point out, ‘because you never want to get out of bed. If you come with me, I’ll do your assignment for you.’

That does the trick, and we’re soon sitting in the reception at our local surgery, which is painted a sickly green and smells of cough sweets. Dannii sits flicking through a magazine while I clock watch. Although I’m twenty minutes early, I don’t get in to see the doctor until forty minutes after my appointment time. I leave Dannii in reception, now furiously texting Dean who ‘won’t leave me alone, the idiot’ though she seems to be sending more texts than she’s receiving.

I feel more than a bit nervous as I go into the doctor’s room. It’s a GP I haven’t seen before, but thankfully a woman, though she is in her sixties and rather stern looking, with little glasses and an iron-grey bob hair sprayed to within an inch of its life. She waves me into the chair next to her without looking up.

‘What’s the problem, Miss Evans?’ she asks, looking at my notes on the screen in front of her and sounding bored. For a minute I’m tempted to make something up about a sore throat and avoid the whole subject but I steel myself, reminding myself that I’m being grown up and sensible and have no reason to be embarrassed at all. After all, how can I think I’m ready to have sex if I can’t even bring myself to talk about it?

‘I wanted to ask about contraception,’ I say, staring at the floor as she finally looks up.

‘You’re seventeen aren’t you?’ she says suspiciously, peering at my details on the screen and then nodding to herself. ‘Have you had intercourse yet?’

‘Er, no.’

She looks at me fully and gives me an approving smile, which makes me feel a lot less embarrassed.

‘Well, good for you for coming to me first. Have you thought about which style of contraception would suit you?’

‘The Pill?’ I say, wondering just how many ‘styles’ there are. I’ve had the sex education classes, of course, but the only contraception advice I can remember is the previously mentioned condom on the fake willy incident, which was enough to put a girl off for life.

The doctor then hands me a leaflet, opening it to a chart in the middle listing various types of contraception and their pros and cons, she then proceeds to tell me about them all in detail until my mind boggles, making me feel slightly queasy when she describes graphically how a coil is inserted. I’m on the verge of bolting and telling Joe I don’t want to have sex ever when she finally stops talking and beams at me.

‘So, yes, I think one of the newer, lower hormone pills will be best for a girl your age.’

I nod enthusiastically, ready to take my prescription and go, but she hasn’t finished with me yet. She takes my blood pressure and my height and weight, then just as I’m about to escape she asks, ‘I’m assuming your prospective partner is a virgin too?’

I shake my head and she purses her lips at me, less impressed now.

‘Then you really need to use condoms unless he has had
a recent sexual health check.’

Then she gives me dire warnings about STIs and the recent rise in Chlamydia among young people until I feel queasy again. Finally I emerge back into reception clutching my prescription and a small paper bag containing a selection of condoms and I’m mortified to discover as I’m walking out the door with Dannii, a selection of flavoured lubricants.

‘Oooh, look,’ she says in excitement pulling out a small brightly coloured sachet, ‘you’ve got one that makes your bits tingle.’

‘Put it away,’ I hiss, grabbing it back off her and putting the lot into my handbag. We go into the nearby chemist to get my prescription and I’m half expecting the chemist to say something or give me a look of disgust, but she passes me my order without even looking up.

As we sit on the bus I read the instructions inside the packet, grimacing as I read the list of possible side effects.

‘It says here it can make you gain weight and get acne,’ I grumble. ‘Sounds great. No wonder its effective, it makes you so ugly no one wants to have sex with you.’

Dannii snorts with laughter before pointing out, truthfully even if somewhat arrogantly, ‘I’m on it and I have perfect skin and a great figure.’

I nod, conceding her point although I have to smile at her totally unselfconscious assessment of herself. It must be amazing to be so secure about the way you look, I think with a touch of jealousy. But then I remember that I have a boyfriend and parents who at least try to do a good job, and think that perhaps looks aren’t everything.

All day long I’m all too aware of the bag of condoms in my handbag and can’t wait to go home and get rid of them. After the doctor’s lecture on sexually transmitted diseases just thinking about them makes me feel a bit icky. I feel
ridiculously naive for not even thinking of that. I can’t help remembering Joe’s words ‘there have been a few girls at parties’ and wondering if it’s possible he’s carrying something. I’ve gone from feeling all grown up and womanly to like an inexperienced child again, and cringe at the thought of asking him. I don’t want him to take offence. When I get home I put my Pill packets in my make-up bag so they’re in an easy place for me to remember to take them every morning but stash the bag of condoms and lubricants in the bottom of my wardrobe. As an afterthought I take out one of the condoms and put it in my handbag. I feel a bit guilty for hiding them, especially because I’ve always assumed I would be tackling these issues with Mum’s advice. I know she’ll be hurt when she finds out I haven’t confided in her, and I feel a pang of hurt at the strange gulf that’s opened up between us recently. Because of Dad, I think angrily, slamming the wardrobe door shut.

I can hardly meet her eyes during dinner, and tell her I’m going round a classmates to study when I’m really going to see Joe. He meets me at the park as always, refusing to let me walk through there or the Estate on my own, mostly because of Jason and his crew I think. When we reach his house Steph greets me warmly, winking at me as we head up the stairs. I think of the condom in my bag and blush as I follow Joe into his room. Now is the time to talk about it with him, I know, but the thought of having the conversation makes me want to bolt, just like I wanted to at the doctors but even more strongly. I’m worried he’ll think I’m too forward, going and putting myself on the Pill before I’ve even talked about it with him. Before we’ve even had sex and we’ve only been going out for just over a week. Or maybe he’ll take it as an indication that I’m ready now, and I’m not sure that I am.

I take a deep breath, psyching myself up, while Joe looks
at me with a worried expression on his face.

‘Aren’t you going to sit down?’

‘I need to tell you something.’

A shadow crosses his face and he folds him arms, his face taking on the sullen expression he had when I met him. I falter, unsure how to continue. He’s virtually glaring at me now.

‘Well, go on then, spit it out.’ His tone makes me wince.

‘I talked to the doctor about going on the Pill today, and I was just wondering’ —my words come out in such a rush they’re tripping over each other—‘if we need to use anything else when, if, we have sex, because you, er, said you’d been with a few girls.’ The last bit comes out as one long exhale and I gasp with relief as I finish, peering at him anxiously. He takes me by surprise as he closes the distance between us and pulls me into a hug. He feels like he’s trembling and as I look up I see he’s struggling not to laugh.