Chapter 3

Zoe breathed out, frustrated. “Jesus, boys are so fucking predictable” she mumbled.

She held them up, poised between thumb and forefinger, examining them critically from all angles. With a slight flick she dropped one end of the roll and it unwound becoming a string of them. She giggled.

“Are these all for me?” the anger in her voice ebbing and bemusement entering as absurdity of the situation started to dawn.

All strength was gone. “There’s never been anyone else” I said quietly. I sat back softly on the bed, my eyes looking down at my hands. I heard her get up, the soft pad of her feet on the carpet and the flicker of her shadow crossing and then the gentle sinking of the bed beside me registering as she came sat beside me.

“We need to talk” she said quietly. There was no anger in her voice. “Look at me” there was a pleading in her voice now.

I looked up and around at her. Zoe was sitting cross legged on the bed facing me. She looked more concerned than worried. She looked serious. I knew I was going to lay everything bare for her, no hiding, no excuses, no more avoiding things.

“I’m sorry about the condoms” I croaked.

She waved her hand away dismissively.

“So, there’s never been anyone else?” she encouraged.

“I love you!” I blurted out despondently. Zoe’s eyes flared wide in shock. There was a pause, the silence so deafening I began to focus on the banal sounds of others in rooms and corridors.

“Love is a strong word” Zoe whispered meekly; “Are you sure you mean ‘love’?”

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I looked down into my hands again to hide it. It was like the whole illusion was falling away, and now I had exposed my bare heart to Zoe I was resigned to the pending rejection.

“Its okay” she said quietly, comfortingly. I looked up at her again, my vision blurred by the suppressed tears. “I like you too” she whispered. There were tears in her eyes too now. We stared at each other. Smiles were creeping into our faces, curling the corners of our mouths. I leaned in to kiss her.

She shrunk back. “This isn’t going to work!” she wailed, distraught. I had forgotten her reaction to be touched. She looked trapped, crouching in the furthest corner of the bed with me between her and the door.

I moved away from her so we were as apart as could be and still sitting on the same bed. “Sorry” I apologised; “We can make this work”.

She relaxed. “I don’t think so” she said resignedly, staring down into nothingness. “I have ... problems. This isn’t going to work”.

“We can work this out. What kind of problems?” I was getting into problem solving mode now, seeing things from the third-person abstract, which is a kind of defensive mechanism I have when there are too much emotions floating around.

“I ... don’t like people touching me” she said. Right, I’d noticed that. Finally, after two years of friendship, I’d noticed that.

“Any other problems?” my mind was full analysis-mode now.

“No, but that’s a pretty big problem!” Zoe was getting animated a bit now.

“Is anyone allowed to touch you, Zoe?” the problem part of my brain treating this like it was a programming exercise.

“Eh, my parents, and, eh, my sister...” Zoe trailed off. I filed the fact that she had parents and a sister away for future reference.

“That’s a pretty short list” I said and whistled. “So what does it take to get on this list?”

“Well, loving me is a good start!” Zoe was almost bouncy again. We smiled weakly at each other again.

I took a deep breath. “Zoe, can we be boyfriend girlfriend?”. She nodded enthusiastically, her smile widening and her eyes twinkling.

Just then there was a knock on our door. Outside in the corridor the noise was rising. It was Friday night and people were off to the night clubs. Zoe called out “come in!”.

The door opened a bit and the girl who had checked on Zoe before during the Painting Throwing Incident looked in. “Zoe, eh,...” she looked from Zoe to me, unsure “I’m sorry, we haven’t been introduced!”

I wasn’t looking at Zoe but I knew she was rolling her eyes. “Gemma, this is Twain.” Gemma and I were looking at Zoe now. Zoe pointed at Gemma “neighbour” and then at me “boyfriend”.

“Twain? That’s an interesting name” Gemma beamed. Now she’d recovered from the strange introductions she returned to her mission “Zoe and Twain, would you like to join us down the student union? Lots of us are going”. I think it was a genuine invitation. There was a cheerful meaning-well kind of feeling about Gemma.

Zoe shrunk even further into the corner of the bed, if that were possible. As Gemma had asked I’d been interested and hopeful, but one glance at Zoe confirmed my suspicions. Zoe couldn’t stand crowds. Friday night at the student union club was going to be torture for her. “Thanks, but I think we’ll stay in tonight. Another time, perhaps?”

Gemma looked from me back to Zoe and then her eyes settled on the floor in front of her. Her eyes dilated in shock. She giggled embarrassed “yes, I can see you two have a lot of catching up to do!” and she blushed heavily. Then she gently closed the door and we could her uncontrolled giggling fit from the corridor immediately beyond the door.

Zoe looked stunned and hurt. “What’s so funny?” she demanded. “Why is everyone always laughing at me?”

“Sssh sssh sssh” I was laughing too. “Look!” I said, pointing at the floor where Gemma had stared just moments before. There was a long string of condoms. “Gemma thinks we have a lot of catching up to do!”. It was so funny Zoe ended up rolling around on the bed grabbing her sides. We laughed for ages.

“So where do I sleep?” I bravely asked.

“On my camp bed” Zoe replied and hopped off the bed and started pulling stuff out from underneath. Mostly it was carefully labelled plastic tubs and boxes with lids. She carefully took out a large keyboard and laid it gently on the bed. Then bending back to her work, she continued excavating. Soon she had extricated a small folding camp bed, the kind with a taunt cover so no mattress is required. She deftly assembled it with just a few shakes and clicks. Then she started putting all the boxes back.

“I didn’t know you played” I said impressed. I used to play, and even had a cheap little keyboard at home but I hadn’t touched it in years. I could see this was an expensive model, mostly by its simple clean lines and lack of buttons. It was full piano size.

“For being my boyfriend, you sure don’t know much!” she giggled. She went to put it back but I couldn’t resist. I leaned towards her and, careful not to touch her, gently tugged the keyboard back onto the bed. A quiet tug-of-war ensued and Zoe quickly relented.

“Will you play for me?” I couldn’t resist asking.

Zoe looked unsure, but also excited. She wanted to play. “I don’t normally play for others” she explained.

“But I am your boyfriend” I pleaded.

And she didn’t take much convincing. She carried the keyboard over to the desk and plonked it down and fiddled around plugging it in. Then she sat, poised, ready to play. “Any requests?” she asked sweetly.

“Lay all your love on me?” was the first silly thing to come to mind. I know she loves Abba.

Zoe broke down in giggles again. “Too easy!”. And then she played.

Boy could she play. And sing too. She didn’t have any notes or anything in front of her. She just played and sung. It was really really good. Her voice was so perfect; slightly deep and husky and very very sexy and perfect for belting out power ballads and giving me goose bumps all over.

She then moved on to a string of motown classics. I recognised them all, even if I couldn’t name them. When she played and sung Stevie Wonder songs she made them her own. It was magical. She has a gift.

It was getting late. Zoe got up and stretched. I instinctively stared at her boobs in her little blue tank top. “Do you play?” she gestured towards the keyboard.

“Eh no, not any more” I said nervously, scared she’d try and get me to play. She didn’t push it. I had only ever plunked around, whereas Zoe had mastered it. Zoe could have been professional.

We went brushed our teeth and stuff together. It was, as I suspected, a girls floor. We saw nobody; presumably everybody really had gone down the student union. It was getting late so we prepared my camp bed for the night. Zoe had some fresh sheets and a blanket for me too.

I could see Zoe was conflicted about where to place the camp bed. Initially she put it against the far wall so we could walk between it and her bed. Then she moved it to be beside her bed. Then she moved it back apart. Finally she moved it back partway towards her bed so there was just enough space to get between them if you could walk like an Egyptian. It seemed an impractical compromise but I was glad it was as close as it was. I knew we weren’t going to be sharing a bed.

Zoe picked up the string of condoms and put them on the desk. “We won’t be needing these! No poking on the first date! I’m not that kind of girl” and she giggled.

Zoe organised it so we turned the lights out before we changed for bed and I had to advert my eyes too. With the lights off there was still a bright glow peeping around the curtains from the street lights immediately outside the window. We laid beside each other on our separate beds. Despite the separation I felt we were really close.

“No point asking for a good night kiss?” I asked hopefully.

“Nice try!” Zoe snorted. I heard her shuffling around on the bed and then saw her small round angelic face peeping over the edge. Then, in a quieter less certain voice “Twain, I’m scared this won’t work”.

“I love you. We’ll make this work” I felt strong and certain about it. “I’ve waited two years, I’m not giving up now!”

Zoe smiled. I could see just enough in the dim light from the street-lamp outside to see her smiling wanly. She was putting a brave face on things.

I awoke quiet early. A lot to think about. I sat up on the camping bed and looked across at Zoe, who was sleeping peacefully on the bed beside mine. Her face was so perfect. Her faintly-blue tinged hair was tucked back behind her ear. I don’t know how long I studied her. Eventually, perhaps feeling my stare, she gently opened her eyes. Then she smiled. I grinned back.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to stare like a perv” I said apologetically.

“That is why I’m wearing a bra to bed” she replied cryptically. Did she think I was hoping she’d exposed herself? Actually, had been hoping for a glimpse of something, anything really. Yeah I was a bit of a perv. But she was my girlfriend, so that makes it all right, right?