Page 7 of Only ever you-Ana & Byron (Blindsided #2)

T hey made a pact not to tell anyone until they were both ready. They were both busy with university applications and Rugby matches.

Their friends thought they were just still the same, bickering, tutoring, eye-rolling and heckling at matches. But behind it all, Byron and Ana had been quietly drifting into their own little bubble, fiercely theirs.

They studied in the evenings, sometimes with books, sometimes not. They kissed until she forgot what she was annoyed about. She got used to the sensation of him sticking his tongue in her mouth. He stole chips off her plate. She kicked him under the table, grinning.

In public, they kept to their script. But in the quiet between, they were something different.

Cathy Liston had started watching her. There was a hard glint in her eyes.

** *

One afternoon, as Ana was walking out of double-period Psychology, Cathy shoulder-checked her hard enough to jostle her books.

It looked casual to anyone else-an 'oops .

..it was an accident. Sorry'. But Ana caught that glance again, the curled smile, the little huff of smugness as Cathy walked off with her herd of lip-glossed girls.

As if she knew a delicious secret and she wasn't about to tell.

She didn't say anything to Byron though. All this was beneath Ana. Let Cathy do what she likes.

That evening, he was already in her kitchen when she got home, arms crossed, eyeing the fridge like it had personally offended him.

"There is nothing in there", he said, without looking. "Got crisps?"

Ana rolled her eyes and reached for the cupboard. "You're like a feral Tom who comes and goes anytime he likes. Do you even knock anymore?"

"Why would I?" he said, grabbing the bag from her hands. "M'practically family."

She narrowed her eyes. "Gross."

He grinned, then tossed the crisps onto the table. In one smooth motion, he caught her wrist, pulled her toward him and then down, right into his lap.

She let out a small, surprised sound. "Byron-what-"

"Your Pa just left for work. Your Ma is upstairs, folding the laundry. Now, we need to be quiet." He glanced at the kitchen doorway, then back at her, voice low. "Do you know how hard it is t'concentrate when you're wearin' these little skirts and givin' me that mouth?"

Ana opened her mouth in protest, but his lips were on hers before she could say a word, his tongue gliding in deep and slow, his hand slipping up her back, the other braced against her thigh.

She could feel him, hard pressed against the side of her thigh.

He pulled back, holding her tight, "I want ya, Ana love. "

Her heart thudded. "That's your hormones talking."

"My hormones are singin' only for you," he murmured, nipping gently at her lower lip.

She buried her face in his neck, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. But feeling that unfamiliar tightness in her pelvis and the tightness of her nipples pressing against the fabric of her bra.

Eventually, they got to studying and Byron left after a long kiss and a dopey look on his face

But later, when she lay in bed, her mind circled back to Cathy's look. She didn't quite know what to make of it.

Like she knew something Ana didn't.

Ana's phone buzzed.

Byron: That sweater you wor 2day... bloody hell, A. You tryna kill me?

Ana smiled a secret smile at the screen, curled on her bed with a cup of tea, blanket tucked under her chin.

Ana: It was just an old jumper.

Byron: A jumper that has aged well, flippin heck. Made it impossible to focus. Could C just enough to make me useless 4 the test. Had to take a break after.

She blushed, heart thudding.

Ana: A break?

Byron: A long one. In the locker room. Had problem. Hard one to solve.

She could imagine him snickering at what he thought was the best double entendre of the year. Dumb-arse.

Ana started typing. Deleted it. Typed again. Her thumb hovered over the send button before she closed her eyes and pressed it.

Ana: I thought about what you said last week.

She stared at the blinking cursor .

Typed again, thumb flying over the keys.

Ana: I tried touching myself. Like you told me. I liked it.

She deleted it. Rewrote it. Then sat frozen with her thumb just touching the send button.

Then, heart hammering, she pressed send.

The message was delivered. No reply.

The seconds stretched. Ana felt her skin prickle. What had she done? Why did she do this? This wasn't her...

Then, finally...

Byron: I'm coming over.

Ana: No. No. Mrs. Granger's next door. She'll call the coppers if she sees a hoodie knocking on the door.

Nothing.

Then, 10 minutes later, there was a faint thud... followed by a squeaking noise from the tree outside her first-floor window.

She rushed over just in time to see Byron's head pop up, followed by a very unstable lean against the sill. He had climbed the tree outside her window, awkwardly squeaking against the bark like an overgrown squirrel and knocked frantically on her window.

"Hiya," he whispered, grinning through the glass.

Then his expression turned into pure panic "This tree's an arsehole."

She pulled him in by the hoodie, muttering, "You idiot. What if you fell? And why didn't you knock at the door?"

Byron ducked inside, slightly out of breath. "'Cause Mrs. Granger was watching telly with binoculars pointed in this direction, I swear to God. She spooks me."

Ana tried to look stern and failed. "You have a death wish. Do you have any sense of self-preservation? "

He grinned white in the low light. "I do. But some things are just more important."

They sat facing each other on her bed, the only light coming from the fairy lights strung along the bookshelf. His hair was wind-tossed, his jeans smudged with tree bark and his hoodie had a small tear at the elbow.

Ana folded her legs under her. "I don't think this is a good idea."

Byron didn't answer.

Instead, he leaned in and sealed his lips to hers.