alone, so downtrodden. Did she want to end up like that? No! No, she did not.
His hand moved from her breast and was now sliding down her thigh, bunching up her dress as it went.
She clapped her hand over it. ‘No!’
He moaned against her ear. ‘Please …’
‘No.’
‘Aw come on, baby. Don’t you love me enough?’
For a second she did nothing. That was before Jane the gum-chewing girl came to mind. Had he said the same thing to her? Had she given in? Had he dumped her afterwards?
Again his warm palm slid down her thigh. Thetemptation to give in was incredibly powerful, but Gran’s warning frown was in her mind. So was Jane.
This time she slapped his hand away.
‘Ouch! That hurt.’
‘It was meant to. No! I said, no! I’m not that sort of a girl.’
She pushed him away.
He threw up both hands in surrender, palms towards her. ‘OK. OK.’
The dress she’d loved now seemed indecent. She vowed to let the hem down – if there was enough material to do so. She heard herself breathing heavily and felt ashamed. It wasn’t with the effort of knocking him away. On the contrary, it was with the effort of regaining her self-control – that and the blood racing through her veins.
Resting back on his bike, Johnnie cupped his hand around a lighted match and lit a cigarette. He didn’t offer her one this time. Not that she would have taken it. His chain-smoking reminded her of Babs and her yellow fingers. Her stepmother had put her off smoking. She didn’t want to end up like Babs in any way, shape or form. She’d made a career out of disliking her and wasn’t about to stop now. Babs might have physically replaced her real mother, but not emotionally. In her mind she wanted to believe that Babs was responsible for her mother going away, but she had no proof of that. No proof at all.
Smoke rings rose in bluish whirls then fused with the darkness. Johnnie’s gaze was fixed on the sea. A silver path led out across the water to the moon.
It was a beautiful night. The situation was dangerous. She wanted this boy. Although a small voice said it was wrong, she wanted him to want her.
‘I need to get home,’ she said and knew she sounded in a panic. She
was
in a panic.
He turned and looked at her.
Instead of meeting the disappointment in his look, she glanced over her shoulder. If she remembered rightly there was a bus stop back there, a lonely spot but the bus shouldn’t be too long.
Johnnie said nothing, but just kept on smoking, his gaze fixed on the distant glow in the sky above the Isle of Grain.
She looked at the bus stop, then at him, then back to the bus stop again. She didn’t want to wait there too long. She didn’t want to be left alone out here. He’d stay as long as she had something to say.
‘Was Jane your girlfriend?’ she blurted.
He shrugged his square, leather-clad shoulders. ‘She thought so.’
‘I see.’
That meant he hadn’t considered them that way. Jane had thought more of him than he’d thought of her.
She tried to see the time on her watch. It was aneat watch which meant it had a very small face and tiny hands. Her dad had sent it to her last Christmas. She often forgot to rewind it – like now. What was the time?
‘I need to get the bus. Would it be too much trouble to take me to the bus stop? It’s up on the main road. I should be alright from there, but if I don’t get the bus I’m going to have to walk home.’
He tossed his head in response. ‘For Christ’s sake!’
The force and tone of his voice made her jump.
He flicked the half-finished cigarette into a clump of couch grass then turned and glared at her. ‘What kind of bastard do you think I am?’
She glared right back. ‘There’s no need to swear, just because you didn’t get your own way.’
Doing quick movements helped her keep her nerve. She hastily rearranged the strap of her shoulder bag.
‘Damn!’ she shouted as the buckle got entangled in her scarf. The scarf came off and was
Raymond E. Feist, S. M. Stirling