Каран Андерс - The Book of Firsts

Gradually, my bra was pushed out of the way, and I unbuttoned his shirt. His chest was lean, faintly tanned. We sampled each other’s skin, a hint of salt to combat sweetness, until a small, piping alarm broke the spell. Rin shifted away, then lay on his back, putting a hand over his eyes until his breathing slowed.

"Amazing stupidity, the early stages of that list," he remarked to the sky. "Next week will be even more painful to stop."

I stood up and began dressing, and he watched me, eyes unreadable beneath the shadow of his hand. He looked like he’d been misplaced from a photoshoot for some expensive perfume advertisement, and I wondered if he modelled. There was something complex in his half-hidden gaze. Not regret, nor dislike, but not affection either.

The next step with him would be nakedness, but nothing much more. That meant I had at least another fortnight to decide if I truly would have sex with this boy.

Rin and I hadn’t revisited the question of whether Bran was choosing not to compete, but I had occasion to think about it on Saturday, during the visit to the Trafala Museum.

The outing was going very well. Carr had collected me just after breakfast, and we’d rounded up Rick and Sue on the way, meeting Lania, Anika and Sean there, along with two members of the Rose Court: Meggan and Celeste.

Meggan was in my Literature class, and Celeste I’d seen in Calculus. Both were exceptionally good looking, and together they made a contrast that brought them a great many second glances while they waited for us on the museum steps, for Celeste had a strong resemblance to Nefertiti, while Meggan was ivory-skinned with a fine drift of shimmering red-blond hair.

They’d both been polite, more reserved than friendly, but had quickly seen the possibilities in Venetian masks, though doubted the elaborate costumes would be practical.

"Very bulky," Meggan said to me after we’d finished touring the museum and were walking down to a nearby collection of restaurants and shops. "But we could adapt the concept. Masks, colour, mystery. We’ll have to source tailors, and perhaps the Art Club can get mask forms in bulk, for those who don’t want to rely on local stores or try importing."

"It still needs to be voted on," Celeste reminded her.

"That shouldn’t be a problem if the Art Club puts together a few brilliant posters. Though it may be worthwhile sticking a few gears on one of the masks, since Steampunk has a core support group." Meggan paused, surveying our lunch options. "The cafés look busy. There’s a nice eating area across the street. Why don’t we grab what we want and meet there?"

Snagging a filled roll and juice, I added a soft serve cone dipped in chocolate and wandered vaguely in the direction Meggan had pointed, but diverted into a criss-cross of hedges, my attention caught by a vertical twist of white at the centre.

I was eyeing the tiny cracks that revealed strain in the feature sculpture when a harsh voice said almost directly into my ear:

"What are you doing?"

My first time seeing Bran up close. He truly was beautiful, features exceptionally finely cut, pale skin flawless, his eyes a pure and currently stormy grey. Poorly disguised anger only enhanced his looks, and seeing all that unexpected nearly stole my breath. It was the strangeness of the question that saved my composure, since I was patently eating an ice cream while looking at a statue, and doing nothing that could deserve such a tone of accusation.

I bought a moment licking the cone, then said: "Art Club outing. You’ve been to the museum as well?"

My answer didn’t seem to quite satisfy him, but the sense of anger died down.

"What exhibit?"

I explained the masquerade proposal, and he gave me a searching look, and then relaxed.

"Over here," he said, walking out of the double square of hedges through an exit at a right angle to the one I’d entered by.

Following, I looked when he pointed to houses hidden among the trees on one of the hills overlooking the museum.

"I live there," he said. "Rin—do you see those red-roofed buildings? That’s where Rin lives. Kyou is a street behind us."

I laughed. "That explains the incredulous expression. No stalking tendencies here, I promise."

He didn’t smile, the hostility now replaced by a neutrality that wasn’t exactly friendly. More indifferent than anything.

"Why did you agree to this?" he asked then.

Deciding to be honest, I shrugged.

"At my last school, I decided to try out having a boyfriend. Since we both knew I was leaving soon, we approached the experience more as a casual friendship, but did get into bed the week before I left. It seemed to me that week that sex really helped with my insomnia. Which is important to me, since I’ve been worried about not being able to sleep before big stress events. But I’m not interested in one-night stands with strangers, and the idea of making a boyfriend just to confirm whether sex helps me sleep seems…unkind." I shrugged. "Besides, from my observation, boyfriends are a lot of work, always expecting you to go watch their rehearsals, or stand around on the edge of sports fields cheering. I can’t afford that amount of time this year. This challenge will hopefully let me confirm something important to me without misleading someone into thinking I care more than I do. And, well…" I smiled at him. "You three are very attractive."

This only produced a cynical expression, as badly suited to that angelic face as his crow’s voice. "We’re also strangers," he said, and walked off.

Hardly an encouraging development. I was more than puzzled, given he’d been the one who’d suggested me for their competition in the first place. Perhaps he really had changed his mind—but why?

That was the kind of question that could lead a girl down a rabbit hole of self-doubt, so I tried to shrug it off over the next couple of days. But I had to wonder if I’d want to go through with these challenges if Bran approached the game with that hostile attitude.

Tuesday hadn’t settled the question for me, but I’d been districted into trying to guess whether I’d be stripping Rin or Kyou that day. Relaxing on a branch beside the garden wall, I told the app I was there, and began on lunch. I’d just finished my sandwich, and was swallowing the last mouthful of a bottle of apple juice, when the whole tree quivered.

I grabbed for an extra hold, though the tree proved solid enough to support the additional weight of the boy climbing up to join me. He stopped on a branch just below me, but was standing, so ended up looking down at me. I had a moment to recognise Bran—just as stormy as last time—before he bent his head and kissed me.

Surprised but not unwilling, I responded, and was glad of the hold I had on the tree, for Bran proved to be an exquisite kisser. I couldn’t pinpoint any particular technique that made the difference, and he displayed no delight in the task, and yet I was transported.

Far too soon he lifted his head, and immediately started down. I caught only a brief glimpse of his expression, and thought him grim. Impossible to know what to make of that.

After a moment I took out my phone and resolved the question that had started the entire game: Bran was without doubt the best kisser. Second and third place was much harder to decide, but eventually I put Rin second and Kyou third. Kyou’s kiss had revolved around the risk of getting caught, and not the kiss itself.

Scores entered, I wondered if I would have any chance of more. Had Rin and Kyou deliberately thrown whatever competition had been this week’s decider? Was that the reason Bran seemed almost resentful?

My confusion only increased when I headed to my next class, and immediately heard gossip about the Three Kings going all out before lunch in a basketball match so intense it was the nearest thing to a fist fight .