Chapter 24: Unexpected Dessert

Life was perfect.

Okay, maybe perfect was a gross exaggeration. I mean, I would have given up a lot, if not most, of what I had to have my parents back. But since that wasn’t going to happen, life was just about as perfect as it was going to get.

I had a big, fat bank balance that was going to make my years as a student a lot more comfortable than most other students. I had shares, bonds and trust funds that would give me a head start after university. And I had the best girlfriend that any bloke could possibly ask for.

What more could I want?

I gave up my waiting job at Micester Hall, telling my friends that I’d saved enough to see me through the summer, and I’d rather spend my Saturday nights with Clarissa. I got a whole bunch of brownie points for telling her that. I also took Will’s advice and bought a little second-hand run-around. Nothing fancy, just a well-built, good running, French super-mini. I also treated myself to a new laptop and one or two other boy’s toys. My friends believed my story about my modest inheritance—even Clarissa. I felt bad not telling her the truth, but Will was right, she didn’t need to know. And I was worried it might change things between us if she did.

Throughout those last few days of November and the first couple of weeks of December, we got closer and closer, to the point where it actually hurt, physically, when we were forced to be apart by our different timetables or her mom’s no going out on a school night rule. Mind you, we did our best to circumvent that petty restriction. Clarissa stopped giving Grace and Emily a lift home altogether and instead came to my house for as long as she thought she could get away with—usually until about seven. Her mom certainly knew what she was doing, and I don’t think she was very happy about it, but Clarissa was getting all her homework done and far from her grades suffering, they were actually getting better. Only slightly mind you, but then they were very good to begin with.

Friday remained our date night, when we’d go out somewhere—usually Westmouth. We still spent Saturday afternoons with our friends but, because I no longer had to work on Saturday nights, we spent them at my place. Clarissa would cook me something fabulous, inducting me into the food-loving fraternity, and then we’d settle down in front of the telly to cuddle up on the sofa.

Like I said, life was pretty much perfect.

I should have known it couldn’t last.

The Christmas Ball took place on the last Saturday before Christmas. And since school had finished earlier in the week, Clarissa and I decided to have our night in front of the telly on Friday and treat the ball as our date night. She cooked yet another meal that made my taste buds dance for joy—a turkey breast steak stuffed with leek, mushroom and bacon and topped with melted cheese—and watched me eat it, as she always did, wearing the most satisfied of her many gorgeous smiles.

After swallowing the last delicious mouthful, I sat back, closed my eyes and sighed.

“Enjoy that?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Good. I’ve got a dessert planned I think you’ll enjoy too.”

“Cheesecake?”

She shook her head.

“What then?”

“You’ll see.” She stood and picked up her wine glass. “Come on, bring the bottle. I’ve got a new DVD I want to watch.”

We settled in our usual position on the sofa, me sitting at one end, her sitting next to me, legs tucked up underneath her and her head resting on my shoulder. I set the movie running, threw the remote on the sofa beyond Clarissa and put my arm around her to pull her even closer than she already was—if that was possible.

The film was some soppy American Rom-Com—not the sort of thing I would have watched on my own, but I didn’t mind watching it with Clarissa. It was no different from any of the others I’d seen with her recently, except this actress was a brunette rather than a blonde and the lead actor was a rugged Australian. I tuned it out and enjoyed being next to Clarissa instead. This actress was, according to the last issue of Ladz magazine, the fifth sexiest woman on God’s Green Earth. And I could see that they had a point, but one glance to my right confirmed it—Clarissa had her beat by a clear country mile.

About twenty minutes into the film, Clarissa planted a tender little kiss on my cheek. We had three classes of kiss. The Seismic Kiss—usually the first and last of the day but some in-between too, especially on date nights—was the kind that fried the circuits in your brain and made the earth move enough to cause a small Tsunami. Then there were these little pecks on the cheek. More affectionate than anything else. Reassurance for the kisser and reassuring for the kissed. And finally, there was what had become our standard kiss—a long, lingering, slow-burning kiss full of desire and love.

I turned my head when I felt her lips on my cheek and we shared one of those slow burners. Her hand drifted to my chest, fumbled to undo one of my shirt buttons and she slipped her fingers inside. My flesh felt molten where her fingers lightly grazed.

I closed my eyes and savoured her taste, and they remained closed when she pulled back and whispered, “Are you ready for your dessert?”

When I opened my eyes, she smiled perhaps the most loving smile I’d ever seen. Her dilated pupils had a fire at their heart gave me goosebumps. “Not if it means you have to get up and go get it. I want to stay here with you forever.”