Chapter 33: Let’s Go to Bed

Waiting in the living room while she got ready made me jittery as all hell. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and hear it in my ear. I needed something to help calm my nerves, so I raided the drinks cabinet for Vicky’s peach schnapps. I’d only ever had it once before, but it was Vicky’s favourite, so it couldn’t be that bad.

As I reached for the bottle, I noticed the whiskey that Will had mentioned to me twice now. A tall bottle with ‘Macallan’ in bold letters on the label, with the number ‘18’ beneath it. I paused. How long had that bottle been there? At least three years, but how long before his death had Dad bought it? And it remained unopened. Untouched.

I took a deep breath and, with shaking hands, picked up the bottle, examining it as I turned it over to look at the back and tipped it onto its side to see the golden liquid within flow. I forced myself to control my breathing and slow my heart rate. How much had Dad paid for this? I had no idea, but I got the impression from Will on my birthday that the four friends enjoyed the finer things at their get-togethers, so it must have been expensive. The last thing I wanted to do was drop it.

Will was right. This deserved to be shared, not just sit here in the cabinet. Maybe one day, I’d have three close friends like my dad had been fortunate to have, with whom I could share a bottle I’d bought myself. In the meantime, I needed to arrange to share it with Will and Pete. Maybe on Dad’s birthday as a way of honouring him.

I put the Macallan back, picked up the schnapps and headed for the kitchen. I poured two small glasses, with ice, then went back into the lounge and left one glass and the bottle on the coffee table. I sat on the sofa with my drink in one hand and the television remote in the other.

I flicked through the countless satellite stations, starting with BBC One and going all the way up through the EPG. Nothing held my attention for longer than a few seconds. As I got to the movie channels, one of them was showing the first movie I’d taken Clarissa to back in November, and my mind flashed back to sitting in the darkened cinema, my arm around her and her head resting on my shoulder.

I felt my heart beginning to race again. Why was I so nervous? Sure, I knew exactly where this evening was headed, but it’s not like it was my first time. I wasn’t some blushing virgin, all fumbling fingers and clueless about what to do.

Perhaps that was the issue. I wasn’t a virgin, but Clarissa was. And Kelly hadn’t been shy about telling everyone how ‘good’ I was. So, were my nerves about pressure? The pressure from all those rumours at school and my need to meet expectations, and to make Clarissa’s first time special.

Stop it, Paul!

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t dwell on the situation. Just be patient. Let Clarissa guide you and only do what she wants—what she’s comfortable with. Stop overthinking it.

I switched the television on to BBC News and zoned out, trying to clear my mind.

But I couldn’t. What was taking her so long? Or was it long? I had no idea. My perception of time was all messed up, and I could have been sitting there for minutes, hours, or days without knowing the difference.

I didn’t even realise I’d finished my drink until my glass was empty. I sighed and I stood to pour myself another. I had my back to the door, and as I picked up the bottle, the softest voice imaginable said, “Paul?”

I turned and gasped, nearly dropping the bottle. Clarissa leaned against the door frame, her arm raised above her head and one leg bent at the knee. She wore a mid-thigh-length, Valentine Red, kimono-style robe tied with a sash around her waist. Her legs were bare, but she wore the same red heels she had worn to the Halloween Ball—at least, I think they were the same.

“You like?” she asked.

I nodded, not wanting to risk speaking for fear of what kind of garbled sound I’d be able to produce.

How was it possible for someone to be so beautiful? So perfect.

“I thought you would.” She pushed herself off the door frame and slowly walked towards me, one foot stepping directly in front of the other, which had the effect of exaggerating the swing in her hips. I held my breath and gripped the bottle tightly as she approached. She stopped just out of my reach and gently tugged at the bow in the belt that held the robe closed. It undid easily, letting the two sides of the kimono fall open to reveal that underneath she wore a slinky nightdress, also vivid Valentine’s red, with a strip of lace at the short hem and low-cut neckline.