“You didn’t have sex?”
He shakes his head.
I swallow. “This will be the first time?”
He nods, then pushes some hair behind my ears. “And your first time.”
I nod back mechanically.
“But don’t worry,” Peter tells me with an encouraging smile. “I’ll still know what I’m doing.”
“Yeah?” I touch his face, trying to make this moment not feel like an absolute betrayal to my favourite night of my life.
I shake my head at myself. I can’t think like that anymore.
“Yeah.” Peter nods, and then he kisses me again.
I undress him as quickly as I can, desperate to get this over with.
I run my mouth over his shoulders; he tastes like sun and sweat. And then it gurgles in my mind, like the dying breath of a wild beast— Salt and home. Smelled like snow, freshly fallen.
And I banish the thought quickly from my mind the same way Peter banished me from here, smack away as hard as I can my memories of Jamison that keep creeping in like an invasive species of vine, and I grab Peter, pulling him inside of me.
He makes a sound that should make me happy, but it doesn’t, so I bury my face in the crevice between his neck and his shoulder and hope that he doesn’t see how I know my face looks.
He swallows heavily and arches his neck back, crowing to the sky. “This is the best!” he tells no one in particular.
I just nod.
When I don’t say anything, he looks down at me, face faltering a little. “Are you hurt, girl?”
I shake my head, sniffing a little.
“It was a good hurt,” I tell him even though it wasn’t.
He nods. “Will I good-hurt you again?”
I nod quickly, and he pushes into me deeper.
I let out a small cry, and he thinks it’s because I like it, but actually I’m just tearing myself apart.
He does it again, and I close my eyes because if I don’t, I’ll start to cry.
I stretch my head back as far as it will go. Peter thinks it’s because I want him to kiss me, but actually, I just don’t want him to see my face, because I know it’ll look like I’m broken.
He starts gaining speed. He’s a lot quicker than Jamison—that’s good, I suppose? I don’t know how much longer I could do this.
I make the sounds I think I need to for him to think it’s happening together, but it’s not.
He goes. I don’t.
The sky doesn’t sparkle. There’s no starry parade, no birds singing us home in the trees. The waves don’t crash together triumphantly. The ground doesn’t tremble. In fact, it’s gone impossibly still, and all the bloomed flowers around us shrivel up and die, but he doesn’t notice, and neither do I.
Peter lies on top of me, panting for a couple of seconds, and then he laughs, rolling off me, staring at the sky.
“Where’d all the stars go?”
I shrug.
“Weird.” He stares at they sky. “Maybe they felt embarrassed to watch us do that so they hid.”
I nod. “Maybe.”
Peter elbows me. “That was the best, don’t you think?”
I nod.
“Should we do it again?”
I flash him a quick smile. “I’m kind of tired.”
“Really?” He frowns.
I shrug weakly. “Drowning, you know?”
He rolls his eyes, then he kisses me, smiling at me in a way that looks rather a lot like fondness. “I’m glad you’re back.”
I give him a quarter of a smile. “Are you?”
“Of course.” He shrugs. “I love you.”
I blink at him, and all I offer him is a weak smile.
“And you love me,” he tells me.
I swallow. “Peter.” I stare over at him. “Will you do something for me?”
He purses his lips. “Maybe?”
“Take me to the cloud,” I tell him.
He frowns, looks almost offended.
“Why?”
“The Collector,” I say quickly, then clear my throat. “I just…want to remember the good parts of Neverland, that’s all.” I flash him a quick smile.
“Okay.” He yawns. “We’ll go in the morning.”
“Please.” I shake my head, rolling back on top of him. “Please can we go now?”
“Daphne.” Peter groans. “I’m so comfortable.”
“Please?” I ask him, my eyes going teary. “I’m afraid that if I don’t drop this thought off, it might haunt me forever.”