Free Boy A by Jonathan Trigell Page A

he says.
    ‘So what d’you know, Jack?’
    He’s come across this before, it’s an invitation to converse. He knows that, but not much more. He knows that she has a place inside her, a space that it’s possible for him to be in; and he knows that this thought is bizarre, and yet compelling.
    ‘Luton are playing at home tomorrow.’ Idiot,
he
doesn’t even care about that. Why’s he telling her?
    ‘Come on, Jack, what d’you know?’
    She’s teasing him this time, he can see it in her smile. But, fuck, it’s a lovely smile. Come on, say something good, say something clever. What would Chris say?
    ‘Have you got a mirror in your knickers?’
    Michelle laughs. ‘Jack!’ she says, feigning indignation. ‘That’s not the Jack I know.’ Then she leans across the table and strokes a finger down the back of his left hand. ‘What makes you think I’m wearing any knickers?’
    Jack swallows, and looks at his hand. He almost expects to see a line down it. He can still feel where she traced, a tingle that stops at his knuckles. He plays back her words, ‘what makes you think I’m wearing any knickers,’ expecting to be unnerved by them, but finding them quite comfortable, finding that they fit somehow. In fact the words start to float. Washing up and down his chest with his breathing. Spreading waves of pleasure. They’re mingling with the tingling in his hand. And that’s flowed right up his arm now. And across his chest. Down the other side. Is this love? It must be. It must be love.
    Trembling with delight, Jack looks deep into Michelle’s come-to-tea eyes. He sees her looking into him too, and she seems even to like what she finds.
    Jack has become intensely aware of the music. He can’t stop his toes tapping, and his hands, moving like they’ve gotminds of their own. He manages to push his mind back to Michelle. He loves her, he must do. Rushes of it flood him now, every time he exhales. He has to tell her, no more wasted opportunity, no more men in suits, he has to tell her.
    ‘Michelle,’ he says.
    ‘Jack,’ she says.
    ‘I love you,’ he says.
    ‘Oh my God,’ she says.
    ‘I love you,’ he says again.
    ‘You’re drunk, Jack.’ She ruffles his fine blond hair. ‘And those words are over-used. You don’t really mean it.’
    ‘I do, Michelle, I love you, I really do. I can feel it all over. I’ve never felt anything like this before.’
    She takes his hand, which is jigging about on the table, and holds it in both of hers.
    ‘Stop moving a sec, you little nutter. I mean, you just said a massive thing. I wasn’t even sure that you fancied me, and then you say that.’
    Jack smiles at her. He can feel the grin spreading, taking over his face, releasing even more waves of pleasure. Being in love is amazing. No wonder they make so much fuss about it. ‘All you need is love,’ someone once said. He’s pretty sure it was Jesus. This could restore his faith. That ginger bloke in the toilet was right: it is heaven in here tonight. Being in love is like heaven, it’s like total fucking ecstasy…
    Oh shit.
    ‘Oh shit,’ says Steve the mechanic, as he returns to the table to find Jack maniacally drumming on it.
    ‘Oh shit,’ says Chris, as he sees Jack’s giant pupils and monster grin. ‘We were starting to think they were duds. I guess not, heh, Dodger.’
    ‘You shit,’ says Michelle. ‘I should have fucking known. You’re off your head, aren’t you! You don’t even know what you’re saying.’ She turns and walks off, leaving her drink, not once looking back.
    ‘Oh shit,’ says Jack.
    ‘Leave it, Jack,’ Chris tells him. ‘They’re best left when they’re like that. I don’t think you’re in a frame of mind to talk her round now anyway.’
    ‘What happened?’ asks Steve the mechanic. ‘You decide not to chunder it?’
    ‘I thought I had. Now I’ve blown everything.’
    But Jack doesn’t feel like he’s blown everything. In fact he feels like it wasn’t that