The Things I Know(40)

‘I tried to talk to Reggie about it once, tried explaining how it felt like everyone was happy to barge me out of the way because I just don’t count. Like everyone got the joke, apart from me. But it was hard for him to understand, and even he got impatient; he had to be somewhere.’

‘You do count, Grayson. It’s true I don’t really know you, but in some ways I feel like I know you inside out, and you do count.’ To me.

‘Yes, and it feels different here, but in the real world I just don’t know how to be the same as everyone else. I don’t know what to wear, how to walk, what music to listen to, what to say. I just don’t.’

‘Maybe you don’t have to, maybe you worry too much about fitting in and being like everyone else. And trust me, I know what that feels like.’ She touched the coiled fingers of her right hand. ‘I also know it’s a waste of life, really, and this is the real world here, Grayson. Not the world you’re used to, but a real world nonetheless. It’s my world.’

‘I find it easy to talk to you. I don’t know why, but it feels like a relief.’

‘And I find it easy to talk to you.’ Reaching back, she felt for his hand in the dark and, taking it into her own, where it fit most neatly, the two walked on in silence until they came to the lower slope on a bend, further up the river where the mighty Severn meandered, providing water for the farms on the lower plain.

There was the gentle sound of the water lapping the bank and the occasional flip and dip of fish that breached the moon-dappled surface of the river. Hitch laid the blanket on the soft, grassy bank and sat down, pulling Grayson with her.

And just like that, he again kissed her mouth, as if he’d been doing it for a lifetime. She felt the pull of longing deep in her gut, lost to this man who didn’t push her head away from his face, didn’t avoid looking at or touching her and didn’t hesitate when it came to kissing her misshapen lips.

She’d had only one brief sexual encounter, with Tarran Buttermore, an unhappy, unsatisfying collision that darkened her thoughts and had left her with a feeling of emptiness, the exact opposite of what she had sought in that quick, cold, casual tryst that had lacked intimacy in every way.

Now this man was lying on top of her, kissing her with confidence, and the yearning she felt for him was an awakening. Pulling away, she whispered in his ear as she helped unfasten his belt, ‘Have you . . . have you done this before?’ She wondered if his oddness and his lack of friends and social life might be a factor.

‘Yes,’ he murmured, smoothing her hair from her face, ‘but it didn’t feel like this.’ He kissed her again. ‘Nothing feels like this. It’s brand new.’

From anyone else, she knew this would be a line to be snickered at, no more than chat, but not only did it feel true, she knew that Grayson Potts did not lie. Hitch closed her eyes and laid her cheek against his. He was right; it was brand new. This feeling was tinged with sadness at the fact that this was a one-time thing. Grayson Potts was a kind and gentle soul who would tomorrow go back to the big city, while her life was here, helping her parents. She shook the intrusive thoughts from her mind, trying not to think too far ahead and concentrating on the now, the glorious, exquisite now.

Grayson eased his clothes from his body. She felt him reach down and he gasped before bringing his hand up towards his face. She could see in the beam of light from the phone set on the ground that it was covered in blood, dark red, glossy and bright in the moonlight.

‘Oh God! Oh no! Grayson!’ She felt her pulse quicken and her face blush. ‘I’m sorry, I . . .’

He shook his head and kissed her. ‘It’s part of you. It’s all part of you. And every part of you is perfect.’

Hitch knew his words would line her gut with warmth on the coldest of mornings and send a smile to her face when her muscles ached from shovelling shit. He thought every part of her was perfect. Every. Single. Part.

Gently, he leaned forward and again kissed her mouth. Hitch clung to him with shaking arms, unable to stem the tears that fell and quite overcome by the sweet, sweet sensation of being held for the first time with love.

I know I feel different.

I know I’m different.

I know it’s because of him.

I feel like a woman.

I feel happy when I’m with him.

I know that, if I could feel like this every day, then I would wake up happy.

I know that life can give you the most beautiful and unexpected gifts when you least expect them.





SEVEN

Hitch woke slowly and spread her arms wide over her head. Her head felt slightly fuzzy as, in a dreamlike state, she played the movie in her mind from the night before: remembering the feel of lying in Grayson’s arms, his fingers running through her hair, which lay spilled across the tartan rug; the way he ran his finger lightly down her cheek, now wet with tears . . . And afterwards, lying huddled together, a jumble of arms and legs, wrapped in the edges of the rug with clothes scattered there on the riverbank in the moonlight.

She rose now and showered quickly, stepping into her jeans and feeling so full and satisfied she could barely face breakfast. Making her way across the landing, she hesitated outside the guest bedroom and, having looked both ways along the landing to make sure the coast was clear, she knocked quietly and popped her smiling face inside the door.

Grayson sat up and looked around for his shirt, a little more self-conscious of his nakedness in the cold light of day.