Page 63 of All That Remains
"Last thing I remember was how ticklish you were. I could make you piss yourself with one touch." I laughed and he nudged me with the arm I was lying against. "What about now?"
"No... not anymore. I’ve toughened up—"
He snaked a hand up my shirt faster than I could complete the lie. I cackled and held it there longer than necessary. My insides flipped violently at the merest brush of his fingers, sending shivers down my legs. He withdrew with a victor’s laugh, having discovered I was sufficiently weak enough to torment at leisure. What I couldn’t get over was the promise. The promisein that action of more to come. Like he’d been reclaiming territory lost in a raid. Reassessing my boundaries.
"I'd offer you another drink, but I remember how much of a lightweight you are—"
"Mate, I'd drink you under a table any day."
“Yeah, okay.”
Hooking my head back onto the back of the couch, I stared at the bizarre painting on the opposite wall.
"Where'd you get it?"
"Local artist," he muttered, sipping his drink, which he then rested on his chest. "Mila, got it for me."
"It's sick. What is it?"
"Fuck if I know. It's abstract. You tell me."
"Seashore?"
"Could be...or a field maybe? Basically, I think you might be able to see whatever you fancy."
"Like aRorschachtest or something."
"Exactly." After a while he asked, "Y'hungry?"
"Not really."
"Just let me know when." After some time he ventured, "D’you remember what you said to me the first time we kissed?"
He was on the brink of referencing our lovemaking. The back of my tongue went numb. The question was out of bounds—wildly so. Like a priest drawing back the curtain on a confessional and looking me square in the eye. Was he trying to relieve me? Like prying open the door to a room that had flooded neck-deep in his absence. I’d been struggling to stay afloat in the steep surf of our past, but now he’d gone out of his way to reassure me, he was never as unburdened as he’d seemed.
I remembered saying something unforgivably cringy that day. I covered my face with a groan, but he pulled my fingers away.
"Youdoremember, don’t you?"
"Mate, of course."
"Say it."
"Don't make me..."
"C'mon, Rafe, just say it."
I covered my face again. "I can't feel my legs."
He laughed and blew a raspberry on the hand covering my eyes. I nearly panicked when his lips touched my flesh, but managed to play it off.
"Oh, mate, that was the cutest shit! You looked terrified."
"I was."
"We were sat there afterwards, just talkin'. Like it was normal."
"Till it got dark. Then we left because I saw a centipede."
