Page 23 of Best Wrong Thing

“Keep your voice down.” He hisses.

I bite my tongue and glare at the ground.

“Please don’t say anything.”

“We’re not related. It’s not that big a deal.”

Jacob sits on the wall beside me, but not close, his body angled towards me. “Please?”

I slump my shoulders and sigh. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

I’ve never broadcasted my sex life to Mum, and I’m not about to start now. Having ‘the talk’ about safe sex was mortifying enough—for both of us. It wasn’t so bad thefirsttime when I was a pre-teen, and she did the whole ‘birds and bees’ speech. She bought a picture book about how men and women like to have ‘special cuddles’. After I came out, we had ‘the talk’ all over again. Only I was older, and she didn’t use a cute book to soften the conversation. Mum, trying to be helpful, had found websites with how-to guides for anal sex virgins. I’d have preferred to find—and read—them by myself. It put me off even thinking about anal sex for almost a year, which I guess is the best form of protection there is.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“No. I’m sorry. I liked you.”

“I liked you too. But you know we can’t ever go there again. Right?”

Do I? “Yeah. Sure.”

“I should go back inside.”

“I’ll come soon. Pun not intended.”

He walks towards the door.

“Jacob.”

He stops.

“I’m sorry Mum had an affair with your dad. I know your parents got divorced because of it.”

Jacob stiffens and clenches his jaw. “It wasn’t your fault. Besides, Dad was the one who cheated.”

“Was their marriage what you wanted to drown your sorrows over that night?”

The timing would make sense, considering she told me the next day that she’d got married. Should I be hurt they told Jacob before me? Nah.

“Yes. I should have stuck to my original plan.”

“Don’t say that. I had fun. I thought you did too.”

Jacob makes a strangled sound. “Was Molly serious?”

“What about?”

“The four of us going on a holiday together?”

“Probably. Don’t worry. I’ll talk her out of it. Going on holiday together would be crazy awkward.” About as awkward as this encounter.

“It would. I should go.”

“Sure. Bye.”

He walks inside, leaving me alone.

“Would you like a sword?”