Eighteen.
It was late in the afternoon when we finally decided to go back to the apartment. The sun was slowly disappearing behind the city, as the river darkened, shops closed, and restaurants started to light up the streets. We walked in silence, and I felt my pace slow the closer we got to the apartment. You eventually noticed, held my hand a little tighter and gently pulled me along.
I didn't want to go home. I couldn't go home. I didn't even have a home right now. Home was supposed to be a place to feel safe, and warm. A place you knew you'd always be welcome, a place you'd always look forward to. A place you'd miss if you left. It was none of that for me anymore. To me, it was a place of deceit, inconvenient and hurtful truths, and a painful past just waiting to be uncovered. And I was about to go back, and find out the truth. The whole truth. And it wasn't something I was looking forward too. It would hurt. A lot.
"Three weeks. That's it." You said, as if you'd read my mind.
"I know." I leaned in to you, and you wrapped your arm around me as we walked.
The bar was only just opening when we walked in to get to the apartment. The owner was cleaning the counter, setting up glasses, all ready for a big night. It was approaching holiday season, and every night was busy- much to the appreciation of Tony, the owner, and just about every other bar, club and shop owner around the place.
The apartment was empty when you opened the door. I hopped up to sit on the counter, letting my legs dangle off the edge. I knew I had to go back to Stretford. It was just so hard. You stood in front of me, hands on hips, and sighed.
"What?" I said quietly.
"I don't want to let you go."
"Then don't make me go."
"You know yourself that it's what you've got to do, Bec."
"I know."
I also knew you couldn't understand why this was so inexplicably hard for me. All you knew was that Mum left six years ago. You didn't know why. Granted, neither did I. Though I was getting the feeling Dad and Kate's affair would be reason enough. But you didn't know about that either. In a way, I longed for your understanding, and your support, I longed for you to know. But at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to tell you everything just yet. I couldn't even bring myself to even try to understand it, or work it out.
There was a pause. You stepped forward, and cupped my face in your hands.
"You'll be alright." You whispered; your lips a mere inch from mine.
You kissed me softly, but this time the kiss deepened. You broke the kiss, and I leaned into your chest. Your right hand moved up to gently lift my chin. I opened my eyes, and looked up into yours. Everything was different this time. There was a sense of longing and an unmistakable feeling of passion- just a little sparkle in your eye that I'd never seen before. In anyone. You kissed me again, as I wrapped my legs around your waist. Your hands moved from my hair down, to wrap tight around my body. You lifted me from the counter, and slowly carried me towards your bedroom. You kicked the door closed behind us, and carefully placed me on your bed.
Your hands felt warm on my bare skin, as they slid under my shirt to slip it off over my head. My hands trembled as I slid off yours, as my nervous eyes met yours. It felt like my first time. Just better. This was something I wanted to do, not something I did because I didn't know what else to do. We'd lost almost all clothing when you got up to close the curtains.
We didn't speak, because we didn't need to. The room became blissfully dark, as we crept underneath the warm covers, and my anxiety turned into something more. Something amazing. Something I'd waited forever to feel, and stop believing in.
