‘I don’t know.’ She met his eyes. ‘But … you are … this feels …’ She faltered. ‘It’s just me. You’re not thinking that …’
Ed said nothing. And cursed himself. It wasn’t just her. He did feel something. He didn’t know what, but something had just happened. The earth hadn’t exactly moved but Ed’s life had surely just shifted on its axis. Molly had rendered him dumb. Another first.
‘Right.’ Molly sat up a bit and slowly rubbed her hands together. Mostly to dust the sand off them. Also to give her a moment to think. ‘What I mean is … I don’t mean we’re going to run off into the sunset together or anything. I mean maybe, but not now. I just think we seem to have some sort of connection. It’s like … I think I sometimes know what you’re thinking, what you’re about to say.’
‘Am I that predictable?’ Ed frowned. He hated being predictable. But at least his mouth was working again.
‘No. Not remotely. That’s what I mean.’ Molly looked unnerved. ‘There’s just something between us. Something a bit … freaky.’
‘I guess so.’ Ed knew so, but saying that would make him feel far too vulnerable. ‘Maybe we’re going to be friends?’ He offered this as a question, testing the waters. He wanted more, far more. Perhaps not right now. Perhaps he meant later, when he’d grown up a bit. But what did Molly mean?
Her eyes were fixed on his and just for a second, he sensed a glimmer of disappointment. But it was fleeting.
‘Friends,’ Molly repeated. She was trying it out, seeing how it sounded. She wasn’t sure if she felt somewhat disappointed. She had felt something far, far deeper than mere friendship surging between them.
But Molly was a dignified girl; she hated looking silly. ‘I suppose we could be that. Yes. Good friends. Why not?’
Ed battled with himself. It was more. What had sparked between them was more. It was … oh, fuck. Had he been about to mentally use the expression ‘soulmates’? Did he even believe in soulmates? Something had sparked between them, like a firework that had been inadvertently lit in a room, bouncing off the walls crazily, leaving delicious little scorch marks everywhere.
Ed swallowed. Could it be that true love malarkey people always banged on about? Had he and Molly got really, really lucky and at a very young age found that thing that people sometimes searched their entire lives for? Or was that just romantic nonsense for losers? He was seventeen, for fuck’s sakes.
Ed released Molly and sat up. He wasn’t ready to meet the love of his life yet. If that was indeed what had just happened. He had too much to do. He had responsibilities; he had an impossible home life. He was going to try with everything he had to become a great writer, and writers needed experiences. What the hell would he write about otherwise? He was surely destined to love many women. Hundreds. He wanted to travel, to see the world, to experience everything life had to offer. If they started something now, he might hurt her. He would hurt her. And Ed didn’t want to do that.
He looked down at Molly. God, but she was beautiful. And sexy. In that girl-next-door way that made him want to both cuddle her and tear her clothes off. He had the urge to inhale her neck, to breathe her in, to consume her, to allow her to consume him. She was different to anyone he had ever met before. He felt a connection with her he simply couldn’t explain. He knew she felt it too.
So what was stopping him?
Molly sat up, leaning against him casually as if she was perfectly fine with everything. It was a knack she had, appearing fine. A useful skill that allowed her to rise above situations that had hurt her in some way. She had learnt it at a very young age when her brother had blackmailed her shamelessly after she broke the foot off an expensive china doll. She had behaved as though she was completely unmoved by the event and her brother had given up because her lack of reaction had presumably been tedious. More recently she had honed her technique when a girlfriend had done the dirty on her with a guy she had really liked. In both cases, she had been distraught, but she had developed a way of appearing haughtily indifferent. A handy gift, that.
The thing was; she had never spoken to a guy for this long before. She had never shared so many intimate details of her life. Molly felt exposed, vulnerable. She had trusted Ed – she still did, oddly – and letting her guard down had actually felt good.
Ed put his arm around her; it was involuntary. He couldn’t seem to be this close to her without touching her, wanting to coil her into his body. He had never felt so confused in his life.
Molly leant into him. He crushed her a little, but it felt so right to be held by him, she couldn’t find it in herself to pull away. She knew if she was dealing with another boy right now she would stand up, disdainfully look down at him before marching off, vowing never to speak to him again. But for some reason, Molly knew she wouldn’t do that with Ed. Because he was different. Because she somehow felt able to forgive him for hurting her when she wouldn’t allow it from someone else. Even if she didn’t quite understand why.
‘The thing you need to know about me is that I am always classy, Edison,’ Molly said, before he could say anything. She sensed – although she had no idea where this sixth sense came from – that he was about to justify himself, to excuse the way he had behaved. He’d acted as though he wanted her more than anything, before backing off like a frightened rabbit. She had to get in first, before he – this boy who seemed so incredibly sensitive, so eloquent and full of thought – said something thoughtless and deeply insensitive. Molly feared he was capable of such a thing, that despite declaring himself a ‘girl’, Ed was very much a male of the species.
‘Classy?’ Ed was confused.
‘Maybe classy isn’t the right word. Dignified, perhaps? Anyway, I rarely make a prat of myself if I can help it.’ Molly wished his eyes weren’t so devastating. She wanted to dive into them, but it seemed that it was not to be the case. ‘And the other thing you need to know is that I don’t ever chase people. If it’s not mutual, it’s not happening.’ She smiled and she made sure it was a sunny one. ‘So, friends it is.’
Molly then leant forward and kissed Ed on the forehead. On the forehead. But slowly, deliberately.
Ed felt emasculated, put in his place and aroused all at once. It was a tender, non-sexual gesture that positioned him firmly in a box, and, ironically, it made him want her even more. Whatever she was saying she had felt was mutual. It was. It was.
Molly hoped the languid forehead kiss had done the trick. Her friend Sara had taught her that, said it was the best way to arouse a guy (the proximity, the erotically slow action) and to put him right in his place. Molly hated playing games but she detested looking idiotic even more. Her mother always said her pride would get her into trouble one day.
Ed inwardly groaned. That kiss on the forehead. It had sealed his fate. Jesus. What had he just done? Molly was the most incredible girl he had ever met. The feeling he’d had when he first set eyes on her had been spot on. She was special. He didn’t want anyone else to have her. Would he ever have this moment back again?
Molly got to her feet, grabbed his hand and clumsily yanked him up. ‘Come on,’ she said. She found herself grinning in a totally spontaneous way. Whether he fancied her or not, Edison made her feel happy. ‘We should go home.’
‘Sam. I really need to talk to you.’
Give me a sec, Molly.’
Sam sounded impatient. He was on the phone to an important client and Molly wanted to give him space. But she had also sat on her news for an entire fortnight and she felt that she needed to finally let it all out. But it was the weekend. And Sam was still working.