Dance With Me In the Pouring Rain

The last day of school was always a joke, and this year was no exception. We spent the morning messing around in our so-called lessons, since we were finishing early at half twelve, just before we'd normally have lunch. It was quite teary outside of school from all the emotional goodbyes as we left school for the end of Year Ten.

"I can't believe I'm not going to see you for another six weeks," Kara sobbed, swallowing me in a hug. "I'm going to miss you so much."

"Nah you won't," I replied jovially. "You're going camping with David, aren't you?"

She perked up. "Yeah, there is that."

I grinned, but my eyes were serious. "Kara, don't let him make you do anything you don't want to do. Remember, he's lucky to have someone like you."

"I know," she replied. She crushed me in another hug before moving on to say goodbye to the rest of her friends.

I turned to Hassan. "Have fun in Iraq, mate."

He snorted. "Three weeks with my annoying family, with all my aunties pinching my cheeks and telling me how much I've grown? Doubt it."

"Least you're getting out of the country," Kyle retorted. "The rest of us are stuck here with the rain."

Hassan cracked a grin. "Well, I have to go home. Last minute packing and all that crap."

He gave us each a one-armed man hug before heading off.

"I should go," Jordan added. "I'm meeting Maria."

"Are you going back to hers?" Kyle asked teasingly.

"To watch anime," Jordan replied defensively.

Kyle rolled his eyes. "My, you two are so cool. Remember, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That doesn't leave much," Jordan muttered. "See you, guys."

Squaring his shoulders, he strode off to where Maria was waiting for him. She wasn't horrible-looking; she had thick, wire-rimmed glasses and braces and a spot of acne, but other than that she had quite nice eyes and short, dark-brown-almost-black hair that just brushed her collar.

"They're perfect for each other," Kyle commented. "Geek love is sweet, don't you think?"

I shook my head at him. "You're just jealous."

He snorted derisively. "Not likely. I'd rather not have a girlfriend at all than go out with her."

"You don't even know her," I reasoned.

"Don't need to."

"You're so judgmental."

As we looked on, pretending not to be watching, Jordan and Maria walked away, arm in arm.

"Well," Kyle sighed, "guess it's just you and me now. We could play video games round mine."

"Actually, I was going to meet up with Tory," I said meekly.

He shook his head sadly. "You're all pathetic. All of you."

I rolled my eyes. "Bye, Kyle."

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I walked down the road, the light breeze whistling through my blazer. It was pretty hot for a change, so I took it off, squished it down the bottom of my bag and rolled up the sleeves of my shirt. Just for good measure, I loosened my tie and undid the top button of my shirt to allow myself to breathe.

When I got to Tory's school, there was no one around, so I figured they hadn't been let out yet. Pulling myself up to sit on the wall opposite, I plugged in my iPod and pressed shuffle.

People started coming out around ten minutes later. They barely gave me a second glance since I wasn't wearing my blazer with the tell-tale St. Martin's logo. I could have been from anywhere and they wouldn't have been any the wiser. The joys of anonymity.

More and people started to emerge. I scanned the crowds of people for Tory's familiar face, and finally saw her on the fringe with a group of her friends. Grinning, I made my way over to her and tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

She jumped like I'd given her an electric shock and whirled round to face me.

"Don't do that," she scolded. "You know I'm a bag of nerves."

Rolling my eyes, I pulled her into a hug.

"So, what are you doing here, anyway?" she asked curiously.

I shrugged. "I wanted to see you before you left for France." I turned to her friends. "You don't mind if I steal her away, do you?"

Ally smiled ruefully. "Don't think we have much choice."

I waited as patiently as I could while Tory hugged each of her friends in turn. Finally, she turned to me with a smile and linked my arm in hers.

"So, what did you want to do?" she asked as we walked away.

I shrugged. "We could just hang out."

She smirked. "Let's go to yours. I still haven't seen your sketchbook yet."

"I thought you forgot about that," I groaned.

"Wishful thinking gets you nowhere, my friend," she grinned. "Now come on."

--------------------------------------

"You know," Tory observed as she walked in my room, "I didn't notice how small your room was last time."

"Small?" I snorted. "It's a glorified shoe box."

Sweeping some clothes off the bed, I indicated for Tory to sit on it. She did, bouncing up and down excitedly on it like a little kid at Christmas.

"So where's this sketchbook, then?" she asked expectantly.

"Tory, are you sure you want to-"

"Fletcher Sutherland, you are not wriggling out of this. Just show me the damn book before I throw something at you," she threatened, folding her arms across her chest.

Muttering, I stretched up and grabbed the sketchbook off the shelf. I trudged over to the bed and handed her the book hesitantly. While she flicked through it, I leant against the wall and drummed my fingers on my knees.

"These are really good," she informed me, awestruck. "I wish I could draw half as good as this."

I flushed. "You really think so?"

She nodded seriously. "Wait, is this your brother?"

My stomach tightened as she showed me the picture. I merely nodded tightly.

"He looks like you," she said softly. "Same eyes, same smile, same hair even." She turned the page and laughed. "Kyle, right? He was a chubby little kid."

I glance over at the picture with a chuckle. It was Kyle at eleven, just before we went into secondary school. His round face was set in a gap-toothed grin. He'd lost the puppy fat since then, and gained his adult teeth, but other than that, not much had changed.

"Oh," she said suddenly. "Is that- is that me?"

It was the picture I'd drawn a few weeks ago. I nodded sheepishly. Now, I could spot countless flaws; her hair wasn't shiny enough, her neck was too long and her legs weren't skinny enough.

"I take it back," Tory said decisively. "This is a terrible picture of me. There's no way I look like that." I drooped visibly. She grinned. "You've drawn me way too pretty."

I sighed with relief. "I thought you hated it."

She shook her head wordlessly. "On the contrary. I love it. But do I really look that pretty?"

"Prettier," I replied hoarsely.

She smiled shyly, and carried on flicking through. "Whoa. Lots of drawings of me."

I laughed softly. "I need the practice."

Closing the sketchbook, she looked back up at me. "Could you draw me something?"

"You sure you want me to?" I asked sceptically.

"Fletch," she said in a warning tone.

I exhaled slowly. "Okay. But if it sucks-"

"It won't suck," she said firmly.

"Okay, but you can't watch me while I do it," I informed her.

I located a pencil and sat back down, resting the sketchbook against my knees. I pondered what to draw for a few seconds, then smiled. I knew exactly what to do.

Tory's fingers wound themselves into my hair as I started tracing lightly on the page. It was a little distracting; I was enjoying it too much.

"What is your most precious memory?" she asked suddenly.

I didn't hesitate. "Family holiday to Spain when I was twelve. It was just before Joe died. It was only for a week, but it was the best week of my life. We got on better than we had ever done before or since. What about you?"

I could see her blushing out of the corner of her eye. "Don't laugh, but remember when you took me to Lickey Hills?"

"Our first real date," I replied softly. "Of course I remember."

"It was incredible," she murmured.

"No offence, but your life must be pretty lame if a lousy date with me is your most precious memory," I joked.

"You underestimate yourself," she said softly, leaning over.

Narrowing my eyes at her, I turned the page away from her. "Stop trying to sneak a peek. Naughty girl."

Grumbling, Tory folded her arms and leant against me, facing the window.

"Okay," she said, "what about your most embarrassing memory?"

I grimaced. "Remember that thing I wrote about you? My English teacher made me read it out in front of the class.

She chortled. "Bet that was fun."

"What about you?" I asked.

A crimson tinge crept into her cheeks. "I was thirteen. My dad walked in on me snogging my boyfriend at the time. It was humiliating."

"Oh. Right."

"Jealous?" she teased.

"Why would I be jealous?" I muttered.

She rolled her eyes. "Right."

We sat, talking, while I continued the drawing. It was only when I finished it and looked at the clock that I realised we'd been there for hours. It was now nearly three o'clock. My stomach grumbled with emptiness, crying out for nourishment.

"Hey, do you want something to eat?" I asked Tory.

"Yeah, I'm starving," she replied, jumping off the bed. "Finished the drawing yet?"

I grinned. "Uh huh. But you can't look at it until after we eat."

She pouted. "Please?" she pouted. "You know you can't resist this face."

Giving her a look that simply said, oh yeah, I shut the sketchbook and replaced it on the shelf. Tory followed me huffily downstairs.

"Peanut butter and jam sandwich?" I offered.

She perked up instantly. "Yes, please."

Chuckling, I got out the jars, some bread and a knife. Tory was humming to herself as I made the sandwich, a song I didn't recognise.

"Mine," she cried, grabbing the now-finished sandwich.

But her finger was too close to the knife. It seared her skin, leaving a rivulet of blood. Tory withdrew her hand quickly, wincing with pain.

"Shit, Tory!" I exclaimed. "I am really, really sorry."

She shook her head. "It wasn't your fault. It was mine. Stupid me."

While she ran her finger under the tap, I searched in the cupboards for a plaster, guilt churning my stomach like a whirlpool.

"Here," I said softly, taking her finger and wrapping the plaster around it. I lifted her finger to my mouth and kissed it gently. "All better."

She smiled. "Thanks."

I leant forward but she'd already turned round. Cursing myself internally, I made myself a quick sandwich and followed her back upstairs.

"Sorry about cutting you," I said awkwardly. "I really didn't mean to hurt you."

"Fletch, it's fine," she assured me, leaning back against the wall. She smiled slyly. "Though seeing a certain person's drawing would make me feel a lot better."

Smiling uncertainly, I retrieved the sketchbook and went to sit next to her on the bed.

"Here," I said quietly, keeping my eyes fixed on the page.

"Oh Fletch," she whispered. "It's us."

I'd drawn the two of us, side by side, our images reflected in each others' eyes. If I was honest, it wasn't too bad. I was actually quite proud of it. I might have overdone the look of pure adoration on my face, though.

"It's amazing," she said softly. "Are you sure you want me to have it?"

I tore out the page as carefully as I could and handed it to her. "I did draw it for you."

She leant over, brushing my lips with hers. "Thank you," she whispered.

She deepened the kiss, tangling her hands in my hair to pull me closer. I was confused; she'd never kissed me this passionately before. But hey, it wasn't like I was complaining.

But when she started tugging on my shirt, I pulled away like a shot. I knew what was coming next. The awkward silence was almost like a tangible thing, pressing itself between us.

"Fletch, can I ask you something?" Tory asked eventually.

"You already did," I felt obliged to point out.

"Well, can I ask something else?"

"Go ahead," I replied uncertainly.

"Do you-" She broke off to laugh nervously. "Can't believe I'm asking this."

"What?" I asked curiously. "Come on, spit it out."

"Do you want to have sex with me?" she blurted out.

My eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Of course I bloody want to have sex with you.

"I just meant- oh God, I shouldn't have said anything," she muttered, covering her face with her hands. "It's just, we don't kiss that much, and even when we do, you don't push me to go further. Take just now, for instance."

"Do you want me to?" I managed.

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "I just thought that maybe- maybe you didn't find me attractive."

"Tory, of course I bloody find you attractive," I said disbelievingly. "I just don't want to force you to do it if you're not ready."

"But I am ready," she said in a small voice.

"No, you're not," I said firmly. "You just don't want me to dump you because you won't sleep with me, am I right?"

She hung her head, confirming my suspicions. "Cassie said guys only want one thing, and you're no exception. I just don't want to lose you."

I pulled her into my arms, resting my chin on top of her head. "Oh, Tory, you daft cow. I'm not going to dump you because you won't sleep with me. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to do it. What guy wouldn't? But it's not the only thing I want. I can wait until you're ready, really ready."

She pulled away and looked up at me. "Thank you, Fletch. I'm glad I- I'm glad we had this conversation."

"God, that was awkward," I muttered. "Can we forget we talked about that?"

She smiled. "If you want. We could kiss instead."

"But nothing else?"

"Nothing else," she agreed.

I grinned. "I like the sound of that."