I Don't Have Much In Life But Take It - It's Yours.

His hands slip around my hips and rest on the bones, and I twist the fabric of his shirt in between my fingers as he looks down at me. "You look amazing," Jay whispers, his breath tickling my ear, and I smile and lean so my forehead meets his. I move forward a little more, and our lips are almost touching, hardly space between them. I move a tiny bit and so does Jay, and our lips meet with a crash that's not at all unpleasant. I can feel him smile and I know I'm doing the same.

"These are definitely going on the yes pile," he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear, as I stare down at our feet - his in bright blue flats and mine in the Vans he's insisting I wear - and I mutter a "sure" before bringing my lips up to meet his again. I move my hands up to his shoulders, feeling my nails dig into him slightly, and then tangling them in the back of his hair. I hear him squeak when my fingers tug on a knot, but I make a noise to signal that I'm sorry and take a tiny step towards him.

I'm finding that I can't breathe, and my chest is getting tight, and I feel like I'm falling but at the same time I feel like I'm flying. It's like I'm drowning, sinking downwards, but I'm still above the water and watching ripples dance on the sea.

He pulls back after a few moments and I do the same, untangling my hands from his mess of hair and he slides his hands off of my hipbones. He leans against one of the walls and watches me through his hair while I hop out of the jeans, finding it hard to undo the buttons as my hands are shaking madly. I pass them to Jay and he pulls back the curtain.

Just as he's about to go back out into the shop, I touch his shoulder and as he looks round, I press myself close to him and touch his lips quickly with mine. "Thanks," I mumble, and as I look away I can see he's smiling as he goes out.

I feel my heart hammer in my chest, and I lean against the wall, taking deep breaths to try and slow it down. Each time, I can hear my breath shaking as it leaves my body and my legs feel like they're about to collapse, for some reason. I try and brush away any thoughts of heart disease again, and put the clothes I was wearing before back on. I pull on a couple of the hoodies Jay chose for me and decide that they fit, and then put them back on the hangers and go out into the shop again.

I can see Jay looking in a mirror by the counter and talking to the guy on the till - Jeph, I think - and he turns round and smiles at me. I can see a yellow star-shaped stud in his bottom lip and he laughs - presumably at my wide eyes.

"I took the ring out because it was boring," he shrugs, bringing a hand up to touch the stud. "But Jeph told me they'd got these in and I decided I wanted it. So I put it in," he grins, and I return it slightly. He jerks his head slightly and I go over, dumping the pile of clothes in my arms on the counter.

I don't pay much attention as Jeph rings up the clothes, focusing instead on how Jay's standing behind me with his fingers hooked through my belt loops, but I do notice when Jeph folds the last pair of jeans and stuffs them in a bag. "That'll be one hundred and sixty-three-eighty please, Jay," Jeph grins and I feel my mouth drop open.

Literally.

"No! I mean.. It's o-o-okay.. I mean it.. Y-y-you don't h-have to.." I stammer out as Jay pulls open his wallet, and I continue arguing, my stutter plaguing ever sentence, even after Jay says he doesn't mind, and I only shut up when he puts his hand over my mouth and hands over a wad of notes.

I hear myself clearly say, "Fucking hell", even through Jay's hand, and he laughs again. He takes his hand from my mouth and laces it with one of mine, taking the two shopping bags in one hand and nodding at Jeph, saying a goodbye.

I give him a half smile and he raises his hand in return, and as we walk out of the shop, out of the corner of my eye, I see Jay look round and laugh, but when I follow his gaze, Jeph is engrossed in his magazine and just has a suggestive smirk on his face and Jay is wearing one too.

I blink at him uneasily, and offer to carry one of the bags, but he shakes his head at me, his hair flopping everywhere and being blown back by the wind. "I owe you," I say, holding out my other hand for a bag and he laughs for a moment, stopping outside of Starbucks and squeezes my hand.

"You don't owe me anything," Jay says, kissing my cheek and looking in the window of Starbucks. "Would you like a cup of overpriced coffee which we could probably get a nicer cup of from a machine?" he asks, squinting at the price list inside and twisting his face into something known as a scowl.

I'm about to reply to him saying I hate Starbucks and I'd rather go to Tescos, when a boy in bondage trousers and a Metallica shirt runs out from the alley leading to the Harlequin (or Bum Rape Alley, as most kids call it) and almost runs past us before meeting my eyes and skidding to a halt.

"Fynn! Ahaha.. HAIII! Ahahaa... Harlequin.. Tescos.. I took some more Kremes hahaaaa!" the guy garbles, hugging me quickly and hopping from one foot to the other, his eyes darting around the street and not focusing on anything for more than a second. I can smell the alcohol and pot on his clothes and breath, and I just roll my eyes.

"I thought you were banned from both of them," I say, putting one hand on my hip and tilting my head to a slight angle. "And I thought you'd stopped with the pot," I add, and he just giggles madly.

"Nope! Nope! Still going! Ahaa.. Yaahhh.. Banned.. But who gives a fuc- OH NOOO!" he screams the ending and hugs me again, running off in the direction of the other end of town. I look to see what he was squealing at and I see two police men running up the High Street after him.

Jay just blinks and open his mouth a couple of times, and I tell him that that guy is a friend of mine, and he's banned from nearly all of the shops in town, as he nicks stuff, and threatens the security guards when he's stoned and often nicks the supply of doughnuts we get through in a day from Tescos.

Jay makes a quiet "ohhhhkay" sound, and I just nod and he starts walking back towards the rich estate and his house, swinging our hands between us and I'm reminded of doing that with my little sister, when I lived at home and when she did too. I frown slightly, wondering where she is now, and then decide I probably won't ever find out and push the sad feeling back down in my stomach.

I miss her, a lot. She and my grandparents were the only people in my family that I loved, and now my grandma's dead, my grandfather doesn't recognise me and I don't have a clue where my sister is. It would probably be enough to send some people over the edge but I've been through tough and I can go through tougher.

We get back to Jay's house and he puts the key in the lock, and the second the door is opened we get hit by a blast of R&B music and I feel myself visibly wince. Jay does too, and scowls and mutters an apology to me, before yelling, "CHELSEA!" up the stairs and the music stops.

"What?!" A voice snaps from the top of the huge stairs, and I find myself staring up at Jay's older sister, who I've met before. Well, I wouldn't say we've met but I've seen her. Her eyes linger over me with disgust, and I flinch as her mouth curls up into a sneer. "What do you want?" She growls, flicking her blonde hair over a shoulder.

Jay mutters something under his breath, before locking eyes with her. "Turn down the music," he demands, his voice reverberating around the large hallway, and I see his sister - Chelsea, presumably - smirk and lean forwards, placing a hand on her hip.

"Why? So you and your-" she laughs, "-friend for this evening can go off to your bedroom in peace? Does he know he'll only last the evening? Does he know how many other people you've brought back?" She grins slyly down at Jay, who's mouth is set in a straight line.

"Fynn, ignore her," he growls, pulling on my hand and leading me into another room, but his sister calls out my name and I turn around, yanking my hand out of his grasp and locking eyes with her.

"Has he told you about Hayley yet?" She asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder so the light catches it. "Has he told you about how long he cried? Has he told you about how he's getting over her? Has he told you why you're here?" She leans even further forward over the banister and raises her eyebrows at me. "Has he told you that you're like the rest of them? Another. Little. Whore." She growls the last words, and I open my mouth at her to say something, but shut it as I realise that I have nothing to say back.

Jay grabs my hand again, but I don't wrap my fingers around him as I did before. "Chelsea, stop lying," he hisses, his face turning a shade of red. "You know I got over Hayley months ago. You just want something to get rid of Fynn." He pulls me into a room and drags me down onto a couch.

"Do you want to watch a film?" He asks, and I nod slightly, watching him as he gets up and pulls out a DVD from a cabinet. "Grease?" He asks, and I just nod again and shrug my shoulders slightly, and he puts it in the DVD player and comes and sits down next to me.

I curl up in a ball at the other end of the couch, leaning my head against the expensive leather and contemplating what Chelsea just told me. For some reason, I feel hurt, but I don't know why as I don't like Jay, not in that way, and I feel a pain exploding in my head.

I don't focus on the film.

"You know," Jay mumurs, staring at the glass table in front of us. "Chelsea was lying. I'll tell you about Hayley another time, but I'm long over her now, I promise. I'm not just using you to get over her." He grins weakly, and I nod a bit.

"I didn't believe her anyway," I lie, crawling up to his end of the couch and climbing into his lap, leaning my body against his chest and feeling his breath in my hair - which really does need re-dyeing as I've just seen it in a mirror.

"Sure you didn't," he mutters, pressing his lips to my hair and sliding an arm around my waist.

I feel myself smiling for some reason, and as he slips his hand slightly under the fabric of my - his - shirt, I feel my heartbeat quicken and my breathing catch in my throat. "Stupid heart disease," I mumble into his shirt, and feel him stiffen.

"What?" He asks, and I hear his voice rise, even over the sounds of the singing from the TV, and I shrug my shoulders.

"For the past few days my hearts been going all funny and I don't know why. And apparently it's a symptom of heart disease," I say, twisting his bright, patterned shirt in between my fingers and feeling his chest rise and fall next to me. I lean closer too him and listen to his heartbeat.

"When did it start?" he asks, moving his hand out from under my shirt and running it along the waistband of the boxers I've borrowed from him. I have to swallow a couple of times before I answer him, as my breathing is getting shallower and my heart is racing and I'm starting to get scared.

"About yesterday," I say.

"The day you met me properly?" he asks, slipping the tips of his fingers under the waistband and I feel them brush against my hipbone, digging slightly into my skin and causing my heart to pump faster and faster.

I swallow again. "Yeah, about then."