Page 46 of The Second Chance Bus Stop

J o nk o ping

There must be something with the lighting, because Blade looks very attractive from where I’m standing, which is at the top of the stairs about to follow him outside. His arms are definitely bigger and

more defined, and he’s clean-shaven and wearing, dare I say it, a very flattering navy blue cardigan over a polo shirt. I

don’t even mind the silly beanie that rests on top of his head. I’m too busy being mesmerised by the shadows the streetlights

cast on his face. His hair is tinted almost blue in the dark.

‘What?’ he asks as I stumble out of the establishment and onto the pavement as if it’s a late night bar and not an all-day-breakfast

joint.

‘What what?’

‘You’re staring.’

‘Oh. Right.’ I should avert my gaze, but I like looking at him. I very much like looking at him.

He walks back towards me, and we stop right underneath a streetlight.

‘Just... look at us. How far we’ve come.

I mean both literally and figuratively. I’m not counting down the days we have left of this torturous trip any longer because well, it’s stopped being torturous somewhere along the road.

And tonight? It finally feels like we’re friends, like we almost like each other,’ I say.

His hand brushes against mine, and I can’t talk when that happens. I have to stop and breathe. And think.

‘Sophia, I do like you. Very much.’

Oh? Oh.

I continue to stare at Blade—and realise just how much I like him. This once annoying, frustrating, lost man who crashed a

funeral has turned into so much more this past week. I can see him as the thoughtful, caring, kind person, his mum must know

him to be. And his best friend. And now me.

I take a step forward, closing the gap between us. My skin is hot and sticky, and I know his must be too, but I don’t back

up.

Blade veers slightly away, and I’m expecting him to break this silence, or to move away from me, but then I see he’s only

shifting his footing. I look around me for a second, to the empty street and the silent clouds moving above us then back to

Blade. His attention has remained fixed on my face. I shiver with a cocktail of fear and want, feeling my lips tingle. The

moment stretches out and then he’s leaning in, diverting slightly to the left so I know he’s not going to kiss me. I keep

still, keeping us in this strange limbo, feeling his lips so close to mine. I’m being a coward.

‘Sophia.’ I can feel his breath on my neck, and I lean towards it because it’s so warm and comforting.

I pull back slightly because I have to. ‘I need to tell you something,’ I start. Why is this so hard suddenly? I’ve said this

same sentence to boys many times before, yet suddenly I wish I didn’t have to, that I could say it then laugh it off as a

bad joke the minute I’d done it. I don’t want to be the Sophia that can’t kiss, I want to be the Sophia that could kiss a

man like Blade.

‘Tell me what’s going on inside your head. You can trust me.’ He lifts his hand and cups my face in his palm.

I want to trust him. I want to talk to him without it feeling like jumping off a cliff. It petrifies me. I lean my face into his hand. That’s all I allow myself. Then I say it.

‘I don’t kiss.’ My chest tugs as if I’ve ripped off a Band-Aid. There, all in the open and on display for him to see.

‘Okay. Can you explain? Explain so I understand.’ He didn’t laugh or tell me I’m strange or, worse, just lean in and prove

how very wrong I am, and that he, a man, knows my body and what it wants better than I, its owner, does. He always explains

things so I get them, and now he’s asking me to clarify the same way, without making assumptions.

‘Mouths have bacteria. And they scare me. Mouths. I know that sounds crazy, and I know that I am in fact, most likely, to

some degree, crazy. But I can’t seem to get past it. The germs.’ Memories of wiping my feet at the doormat, using hand gel

in the car after a shopping centre visit. Don’t touch the side railings, Sophia. But I had to touch the side railings, didn’t Mum understand? Because if I didn’t my arms would flap. And my reward would be

taken away. Germs. My only option was to become so scared of germs that that fear trumped my urge to touch the railings. I scared myself out

of meeting my body’s needs. Even if I know why I’m so deep in it now, I may never be able to change it. And now I’m scared

that this man won’t want me. But could he? Could he?

‘What do I do, then? If I can’t kiss you.’ The last bit comes out as a croak rather than speech and I look at his mouth. It’s

funny how I like looking at it so much when I don’t actually want it... Have I done this with other mouths? Presumably

I’ve seen lot of nice-looking mouths before and yet I can’t remember eyeing them up.

‘Well.’ I attempt to come up with some sort of plan. Ideas. Turns out I have plenty. But my cautious brain is reprimanding

me. Danger, danger, detain her! I guess I could run my fingers over his collarbones, which have just a slight hint of a tan.

I could breathe warm air onto his neck and nuzzle my nose against his jawline.

Then I could press up against him and feel my breath fade away.

There are many options that don’t involve saliva, and I can’t stop my mind from exploring them.

‘That’s okay, I understand.’

He understands?

‘Here’s my idea, then. There are other places I could kiss you, Sophia.’ Other places.

‘We could try that.’

He leans in and brushes his lips over my shoulder. Very softly. Impossibly lightly.

‘Close your eyes, Sophia,’ he requests. My eyelids fall immediately shut. Eyes closed, I feel him close to me like a warm

blanket. I’m anticipating his next move like I’ve never anticipated anything. I could stop this torture and thing which will obviously end badly just by opening my eyes, or by reaching out my hand and pushing him away.

I do neither.

His lips finally brush the skin right beneath my ear. And then there’s another pass of his lips over the same patch of skin.

‘You can tell me if you need a break or if you’d like me to stop.’

Talk? I’m supposed to be able to talk? I manage a shake of my head. His fingers trickle down my throat and I feel myself parting my lips ever so slightly then closing

them, pressing my lips together. No. No lips.

‘Blade,’ I whisper. ‘Not my lips.’ His fingers halt, lifting off my skin right above my collarbone. I feel the loss of his

touch immediately.

‘Not the lips,’ he whispers back. ‘You can trust me.’

‘Okay.’ I urge the shock out of my expression.

Blade kissed me. On my shoulder. And my neck.

In fact, he’s still doing it.

‘Blade,’ I hiss. I think I should try to be feminine. I hear my mum’s voice in my head: Especially with your stature, Sophia .

It’s good. This is what people do. They kiss each other. On multiple body parts. Like shoulders.

‘Let’s go.’

‘Do you feel fit to drive?’ He is, of course, but I’m not fit to be a passenger. To sit next to him and have my hands on my

lap, looking out of the window as if this didn’t just happen.

‘We could stay here, but there’s no lake and our morning view will be of—’ he stops for a minute and turns to look ‘—a balloon

shop and a bakery.’

‘Bakeries are good. They make breakfast.’

‘They do.’

We somehow make the steps between the pavement and the RV cabin. I switch on the lights and then I’m back in his arms again

as if nothing happened.

‘Close your eyes,’ he instructs again.

I do.

But my mind can’t quiet. My eyelids must have fluttered with doubt.

‘No. Don’t open them. Not yet.’

I don’t.

‘You could have this all the time, Sophia. Think about it.’

‘It’s not possible.’

‘Is this not enough?’ Blade presses into me now, with his whole body, hips against mine. As If trying to make a point.

Enough? This would be more than I’ve ever had, more than I could ever have imagined for myself. Even just being touched once

the way he touched me would be enough. My fear is that it’s not enough for him.

There’s another kiss on my temple. When his lips reach my eyelids they are featherlight and I feel like I’m about to cry.

Then it all stops. Because I’m actually weeping. Still with eyes closed I stand there, in a camper-van, my arms pulled tight around me, and I weep.

‘Open your eyes. Please.’

I do then. I see houses and a sky that’s dark grey through the windows and Blade’s eyes looking back at me. My tears don’t

make him uncomfortable. Men hate tears. They tell you it’s silly and that it’s a manipulative technique. Then they raise their

voices and shout because they can’t stand them and will stop at nothing to quiet the noise that is female sadness. But not

Blade. He rocks back and forth then scoops all of me up into his lap, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve been held like

this, probably sometime in childhood before I shot up on the weight-and-height curve and my outstretched arms were met by

my parents with a You’ll break my back, Sophia. Use your two good legs.

‘Let’s get you to bed,’ he says and I let him walk me there. He swiftly gets the bed down and folds the duvet to the side.

I sit down on the side of it, too tired to move. I’d like to blame it on two rare alcoholic beverages, but it could very possibly

be the way this man seems to tug at my emotions like no one else. I would be terrified if it weren’t for the fact that everything

has felt lighter, more manageable and less my fault since we started this journey. That’s not something a cocktail can do.

‘I can’t take my shoes off,’ I say. He bends down and undoes my sandals, fiddling with the small leather straps and metal

clasp.

‘Here. Get in.’

‘I can’t,’ I mumble.

He looks at me confused.

‘I have to take this off. I need to sleep naked.’ He looks at me then down to the now strapless green dress when he realises

what I’m asking him.

‘Sophia, I’ll undress you. Then tuck you into bed—which is all I’m going to be doing tonight—but how do you think I’ll get a wink of sleep?’ He laughs softly, a sweet sound.

‘I promise I will turn off the opportunity clock tomorrow morning. One night only.’

He pulls back and looks down at me on the bed. He slowly reaches for the top of my dress and pulls it down so gently the sensation

is like being stroked. By satin. I shiver. When the fabric reaches my hips, he looks me in the eyes for the first time.

‘Stand up.’ I do what I’m told, and the dress slips off my hips and onto the floor in a messy pile. My underwear is simple

cotton briefs and a bandeau top.

‘Now get into bed.’

I lie down on my side and pull the duvet all the way up to my chin, just how I like it, even in summer.

‘Good night, Sophia,’ he says before walking off. I hear the clink of a water glass being put down on the shelf next to my

bed. In case I wake up thirsty.