Before I Die Read Free Page B

Jake’s leaning against the doorframe, waiting. Is he giving the thumbs-up? I can’t look. I can’t find the condoms either, don’t even know if it’s a box or a packet, or really what they look like. In my embarrassment, I decide to take the entire bag upstairs. If Zoey needs a condom, she’ll just have to come and get it.
    ‘Let’s go,’ I say.
    I follow Jake up the stairs, concentrate on the sway of his hips to keep myself cheerful. I feel a bit strange, dizzy and slightly nauseous. I didn’t think that walking up the stairs behind a guy would remind me of hospital corridors. Maybe I’m just tired. I try to remember the rules about feeling sick – whenever possible get lots of fresh air, open a window or go outside if you can. Get good at distraction therapy – do something, anything, to keep your mind off it.
    ‘In here,’ he says.
    His bedroom’s nothing special – a small room with a desk, a computer, scattered books on the floor, a chair and a single bed. On the walls are a few black and white posters – jazz musicians mostly.
    He looks at me looking at his room. ‘You can put your bag down,’ he says.
    He picks up dirty laundry from the bed and chucks it on the floor, straightens the duvet, sits down and pats the space next to him.
    I don’t move. Because if I sit down on that bed, then I need the lights off.
    ‘Could you light that candle?’ I say.
    He opens a drawer, pulls out matches and gets up to light the candle on the desk. He turns off the main light and sits back down.
    Here is a real breathing boy, looking up at me, waiting for me. This is my moment, but I can feel my chest ticking. Maybe the only way to get through this without him thinking I’m a complete idiot is to pretend to be someone else. I decide to be Zoey, and begin to undo the buttons on her dress.
    He watches me do it, one button, two buttons. He runs his tongue across his lips. Three buttons.
    He stands up. ‘Let me do that.’
    His fingers are quick. He’s done this before. Another girl, a different night. I wonder where she is now. Four buttons, five, and the little red dress slides from shoulder to hip, falls to the floor and lands at my feet like a kiss. I step out of it and stand before him in just my bra and knickers.
    ‘What’s that?’ He frowns at the puckered skin on my chest.
    ‘I was ill.’
    ‘What was wrong with you?’
    I shut him up with kisses.
    I smell different now I’m practically naked – musky and hot. He tastes different – of smoke and something sweet. Life maybe.
    ‘Aren’t you taking your clothes off?’ I ask in my best Zoey voice.
    He pulls up his T-shirt, over his face, his arms raised. For a second he can’t see me, but he’s exposed – his narrow chest, freckled and young, the dark shine of hair under his armpits. He chucks his T-shirt on the floor and kisses me again. He tries to unbuckle his belt without looking, with only one hand, but can’t do it. He pulls away, looking at me all the while as he fumbles at button and zip. He steps out of his trousers and stands before me in his underwear. There’s a moment when maybe he’s uncertain, and he hesitates, seems shy. I notice his feet, innocent as daisies in their white socks, and I want to give him something.
    ‘I’ve never done this before,’ I say. ‘Not all the way with a guy.’
    The candle gutters.
    He doesn’t say anything for a second, then shakes his head like he just can’t believe it. ‘Wow, that’s amazing.’
    I nod.
    ‘Come here.’
    I bury myself in his shoulder. It’s comforting, as if things may be all right. He wraps one arm around me, the other creeping up my back to stroke my neck. His hand is warm. Two hours ago I didn’t even know his name.
    Maybe we don’t have to have sex. Maybe we could just lie down and snuggle up, find sleep in each other’s arms under the duvet. Maybe we’ll fall in love. He’ll hunt for a cure and I’ll live for ever.
    But no. ‘Have you got condoms?’ he