Free Geography by Sophie Cunningham Page A

sexy. It had only been eight months.
    â€˜Are you seeing anyone?’ he asked.
    â€˜No,’ I said. ‘I assume you are. Is that why didn’t you tell me you were coming out?’
    â€˜Not at all. I thought a girl like you would have a lot of options and I’d be down low on the list,’ he was cocky now. ‘I’ve sent you a few postcards, haven’t I? I’m hoping that will count for something.’
    â€˜It takes more than that,’ I lied. ‘And I want you to know I don’t send bum titty bum bum postcards to just anyone. Have you got time to go out for breakfast?’ I was anxious to get him out of the flat. All I wanted to do was touch him but it seemed to me that was a bad idea. I wanted to see if there was something real between us, something that sex couldn’t cover up.
    â€˜Of course,’ Michael looked disappointed but was gracious. ‘Coffee would be good.’
    Being with him in a public place just made things worse. I could barely concentrate on the menu, or the view of Bondi Beach. Michael seemed in the same state. He was shaking. Our hands brushed against each other as we reached out for our coffees and it was like an electric current ran between us. Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was probably only ten minutes, Michael reached across the table and tentatively stroked the inside of my wrist with his forefinger.
    â€˜Catherine,’ he said, ‘I…Could…I still feel the same about you. I didn’t know that I would, but sitting here, it’s driving me crazy.’ His voice was quavering.
    â€˜So it’s not just me?’ I asked, and he grinned.
    â€˜It’s not. It’s me too. It’s us.’
    We walked home holding hands and kissed as soon as we got back in the door. We kissed, nothing else, for a very long time. I drank him, I was drunk with him. I was full of feeling and empty of it at the same time. I looked at the clock to find an hour had passed and we were still standing in the hallway with our arms wrapped around each other.
    â€˜That’s to make up for missing all that foreplay in our mad desert fucks,’ Michael stroked my cheek. ‘But now, now I want to get dirty.’
    We undressed each other slowly; I felt that I was floating. By the time he was inside me I was outside myself. This is what I need to say, again, to try and explain all that happened: no one else had ever made me feel like this. No one. When I was with him, all thought stopped. I cannot remember what we did, or what we said, only that hours passed and I was in a state that I think must have been ecstasy.
    You are my church, I thought to myself, but didn’t say. I knew how strange it would have sounded; the thought itself felt strange but how else to explain the feeling between us? I chased this moment, precisely this feeling, for the next six years. Michael looked into my eyes. He said, ‘You have no idea how often I have thought of you. I toss and turn, you lose me sleep.’
    Despite the heat, we made love all that day and into the night. After the hours of gentle we became rough. He hurt me like I wanted to be hurt. I was swollen and sore but this just made everything more beautiful.
    â€˜We should get up and get something to eat,’ Michael said, after dark had fallen. So we did. We ventured into the night to buy some Thai takeaway and some cold beers. We ate in bed and I can’t remember falling asleep, but I did, heavily, and I didn’t wake until morning.
    Michael was stretching. When he saw I was awake he said, ‘I think that might be the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a decade.’ Before I could answer I realised I was bleeding, though I wasn’t due.
    â€˜Shit,’ I said. ‘I’ve destroyed Rebecca’s sheets.’
    Michael laughed. ‘Won’t you be their favourite house guest,’ he said, before kissing me on the forehead and getting out