“Yes,” I say all the same.
He rounds the partition, and our eyes catch and a smile whispers over his face.
“Decent.” He scoffs as he rolls his eyes before sitting down right next to me on the floor. Back against the tub, facing away from me.
He says nothing for what feels like five minutes. He just stares straight ahead, gripping his own wrist.
I look over at him, feeling embarrassed again. “Are you okay?”
He nods. “Aye.”
I nod back even though he isn’t looking at me. “You seem strange.”
“I’m no’，” he says strangely.
I swallow, then sigh. “Should I not have come here?”
At that, he turns to face me with a little frown. “I told ye, you can always come t’ me.”
Our eyes hold for a second, and then he turns away again.
His grip on his own wrist tightens. “Sure anyway, I wanted t’ talk to ye.”
I go a bit stiff. “Oh?”
He nods to himself. “I lied t’ ye before.”
“Oh.” I frown. I shift in the bath a little and sigh.
“What I said to ye the other day, it was shite. You d?nnae bring out the worst in me. I might bring it out in ye but—”
“You don’t,” I interrupt him.
Jamison looks over his shoulder at me again, and his eyes flicker down to my mouth, then he swallows heavy and looks away again. He breathes out.
“I heard you,” I tell him quietly.
He looks back again, frowning.
“What you told that girl—that I rub you the worst?”
His mouth pulls tight.
I stare straight ahead.
“‘Not like that,’” I quote him. “‘Never like that.’”
“We haenae,” he reminds me, and I toss him a stern look.
“That’s not how you meant it.”
He looks annoyed. “Oh, and ye ken I meant it, do ye?”
“I know how you meant for her to hear it.”
He looks away again, staring at his hands. “Aye, well, I was full of shite thon night too.”
I sigh, pick up some water in my hands, and drip it slowly back into the tub. The drips drip louder than you’d think they might. That, or it’s just quieter in here than you’d think possible.
“Did you bring her back here?” I don’t know why I ask that for. Because I already feel sad? To make myself sadder? To fight with him?
“No’ here,” he tells me.
A sneaky clarification.
I inhale sharply, and I think he hears it.
“But somewhere?”
He’s quiet for a moment, and then his head falls back against the side of the tub. “Aye.”
I nod once, feel my heart sink at the thought of his hands on someone else.
“So—” I drag my finger around the edge of the bath. “How many girls have you had sex with in this bath?”
He scoffs.
I stare at the back of his head, frowning. “That many?”
He turns over his shoulder again, scowling. “No’ that many.”
“How many then?” I ask, and our noses are so close they’re almost touching.
His eyes fall down my face, and then he turns away from me again, lets it hang there.
“None,” he says after a moment.
“What?” I stare at him. “You said—”
“Yeah.” He shrugs, telling the wall in front of him. “Forbye, this girl frae England bathed in it once and ruined it.”
“How?” I ask, mortified, my cheeks on fire.
He shrugs again, back to holding his wrist and staring at it. “Just felt sick thinking about anybody else being in it after her.”
Hold on. What?
I blink a few times, then look over at him.
Is he—？
My heart starts going absolutely mental on the spot.
I tap-tap on his shoulder, and he turns back around, and then I just take his cheek in my hand and brush my mouth over his.
It is, in the scheme of kisses, a tiny one.
My lips barely part his open. It’s shy and nervous, but it does the trick, because as soon as our lips touch, his body turns the whole way around and he takes over. He slips his hand behind my head and kisses me as he kneels over me. I curl my arms around his neck, and he lifts me out of the water, drenching himself in the process.
This doesn’t stop him, doesn’t slow him down. I don’t even know whether he noticed.
He carries me backwards towards his bed and then lays me down on it. His eyes brush over my body, and then his hand touches my face. This sweet frown appears.