The Book of Firsts

Thirty-Five

Friday was windy, and far colder than I expected. I kept my scarf on even in class, and felt very unenthusiastic about heading to the garden. I wished I’d at least brought the jacket I’d worn in Québec.

"The wind’s coming over the snow on the mountains," Bran explained, as he closed the summer house door. "The absolute worst is wind from that direction when it’s drizzling. Let’s play a game until the oil heater makes the idea of naked skin bearable."

"Sure. Any preferences?"

"How does a round of Am I the Asshole sound?"

"…do I have to be tactful answering that question?"

He smirked, and pulled me to sit on the couch, tucking me under one arm and then pulling a blanket over us. Since he was a good deal warmer than the rest of the room, I had no objection, just kicking off my shoes and curling my feet up.

Bran pulled his phone from a pocket and navigated to the unofficial school forums. His user name was Amelia, and he started a new thread under the Goss section titled "Fun Scene on the Snow". Then he uploaded a video.

"You’ll have to show me the details before I decide whether that was assery."

The video opened on a figure a few feet away, waiting for a ski lift. He was wearing clear goggles, a scarf shielding his jaw, but no beanie, leaving his distinctive gold-brown hair visible, though caught apparently in a low ponytail rather than Rin’s habitual topknot.

"This really does look like Rin."

"The other two aren’t nearly as close. But Rin’s was the important one for this game. The right body type and shape for the face, plus long, rather fine hair. The colour’s a dye."

An elegant girl in a snug blue and white outfit slid to stand by the first figure’s elbow. He didn’t seem to notice her, so she reached out and touched his arm lightly, and said: "You’re so elusive."

For a moment, the scene was postcard-perfect, with two matching figures side-by-side, Sirocco’s beautiful profile clear, head tilted to look up at his face. Then her slight smile dropped, and she tried to step back on her skis and failed as a rather high-pitched voice with a distinct Bronx accent said:

"Again? Lady, I don’t know how to tell it to you any clearer. You are so not my thing, and this is beginning to be creepy."

Sirocco’s self-control was good. She kept her head high, and simply turned and skied off, with only purely crimson cheeks to betray her embarrassment.

"Who filmed this?" I asked Bran.

"Fake me. Here’s a longer clip—can you see who he’s standing behind?"

The second video was focused on two girls standing together. They spotted the fake Rin, spoke briefly, and then separated. As they did so, the person filming moved behind the first girl, and obviously stayed in her shadow as the scene played out.

"Was that Katerina?"

"She and Sirocco are very good friends. They have a sort of shared interest, because Katerina’s convinced Kyou is eating his heart out for her."

"Really?" I hadn’t heard any gossip on that front. "Has Kyou been flirting?"

"No, in this case it’s entirely misunderstanding. A few years ago we were dragged to one of the interminable social get-togethers that our families seem to think worth their while. It was at a sculpture garden, and Kyou and Carr started comparing opinions on the works until Katerina sectioned Carr off for a personal tour. Shortly after, Kyou and Carr started their minor cold war, and Katerina is convinced they fell out over her."

"Hasn’t Kyou had girlfriends since then?"

"One a year—but apparently this is just additional proof to Katerina that he can’t get over her." Bran refreshed the forum, snorting faintly. "Not that Kyou didn’t enjoy himself saying a couple of ambiguous things, once he figured out her views. A kindness to her ego, perhaps, given Carr’s unwavering lack of interest."

"No-one can turn their emotions off," I said, neutrally.

"True." He glanced at me, but didn’t comment on his own inability. "What I object to is that smug territoriality. Anyone who dares to like the object of their interest is due a lesson."

There were a dozen comments on the thread already, rich with glee. Sirocco’s pursuit of Rin had never been a common joke in Corascur, in part because she didn’t make it too obvious, but perhaps also because many thought she’d be successful in the long run. Now it would be a piece of hilarity that she’d not be able to wash away, at least for the rest of the school year.

"Usually, I’d say you were the asshole for doing this, but she made Lania cry."

Bran put his phone on the coffee table. "Why do you like Lania so much? Or are you just generally protective of the girls around you?"

"I’ll undercut a bully wherever I can, but I like Lania for Lania. We have similar interests, she’s fun to hang with, and she wants to go into robotics, which I find very cool. She’s also the type of person who tries to endure and overcome in silence, which brings out a protective streak in me, I guess."

"What would you do if Sirocco tried to bully you?"

"The kind of mockery that Sirocco seems to have aimed at Lania doesn’t work very well on me, because social standing isn’t important to the things I want to do. If she started putting rubbish in my locker or something, I’d probably…" I paused. "I’d probably film her doing it, and then laugh, because how childish. If she kept escalating, it would eventually become actionable, and I’d be able to have her arrested. Though she doesn’t strike me as stupid enough to go so far. Katerina might do something like that, while Sirocco seems unlikely to go past needlepoint on her rivals' self-confidence."

Bran’s hands were roving beneath the blanket, hiking up my multiple layers so he could find some skin.

"Not stupid at all. She also used to be a more interesting person. Mad for horses, passionate about film and literature, and I never knew her as a bully. Something about the idea of being with Rin—or her family pushing her to be with him—seems to have changed her. And Katerina’s definitely a bad influence. Perhaps she’ll go back to her former self once she learns what Rin’s really like."

I wriggled because Bran’s explorations were tickling me. "Feel free to film her reaction to gamer dude Rin and post it on a forum too."

"Gamer dude Rin." Bran paused a moment. "I like the idea that that’s how you see him."

But the topic didn’t hold that much interest, for he next shrugged away the blanket and attempted to remove my pullover, tunic and undershirt all at once. My arms immediately became trapped above my head.

"These uniform trousers are so ugly," he said, stripping them off while I struggled to work free of the tangle. Then there was a little pause, and he added: "And you’re going to pay for these underpants."

"No regrets," I murmured, as I finally emerged from my tunic. "Revenge yourself on Rin."

"We did. We tossed him over our balcony into a snowdrift. Gave our neighbours a treat, since he wasn’t wearing much."

I grinned appreciatively, but Bran was really looking too gorgeous for more chatter. His clear skin was flushed on each cheek, and a tangle of loose curls had fallen into his eyes. I grabbed hold of the scarf he’d yet to shed and pulled it free, and he wasted no time helping matters along by removing his uniform a good deal more efficiently than he had mine. His intention, once clothes were no longer a factor, was clearly to pounce, but I put a hand on his shoulder to quell the move.

"Slow down," I said. "I want to look at you."

Sitting beside him on the couch, I was able to look down at him, and use my hands to frame his face, marvelling at the lack of flaws. His eyes were that stormy grey, and they visibly dilated when I brushed a thumb lightly over his lower lip.

Thinking of the night we’d spent on the beach, with everything in shadow, details impossible to pick out, I wanted to use this challenge to really study his beauty. I knew very well that Bran was feeling urgent, wanting to rush ahead, and so I appreciated that he reined himself back, allowing me to explore his face, to kiss his temples, to see the skin I was tasting. He even managed to keep his hands down by his sides until I finally lowered myself on him. Then he clutched me closer, fingers digging into me.

"I was going to draw this out a lot longer," I murmured, "but it’s still really cold in here."

"Draw it out much longer and we can forget about the on top concept," he growled.

That made me laugh, and I tickled him lightly, but then began to move, and watched his face as he gave himself into sheer pleasure. There was nothing remarkable, of course, about enthusiasm for sex, but Bran’s attachment to Meggan had clearly left him in a complicated place about physical intimacy. On the beach he had struggled at least momentarily with being with me. This position, more than practically any other, made it difficult for him to pretend he was with anyone else.

Watching him closely, I don’t think I saw a shadow until the very end, just before he hid his face against my neck and squeezed me achingly tight. Then we rearranged the blanket, and lay together to kiss, but instead of another extended session, Bran stopped after only a short while.

"What’s the perfume you’re wearing, Cheshire?"

"Either no split ends shampoo, or don’t put streaks on your clothes deodorant. Take your pick."

He shifted to inhale by my head, then sniffed my armpit. "Must be the deodorant."

Given the wrinkled brow, I guessed I wasn’t about to receive a compliment. "You don’t like it?"

"I have a scent allergy triggered by some common perfume ingredients. This mustn’t be very strong, because it didn’t hit me until now."

"It makes you feel sick?"

"Mild migraines. Nothing too bad unless I’m stuck in a confined place with it."

I sat up. "I’ve some paracetamol in my bag. Will that help?"

"Unlikely to make a difference. This isn’t too bad—it’ll pass if I stay quiet for a while."

Since I was the source of the problem, I left him on the couch and washed myself thoroughly, then dressed while Bran lay on the couch watching me. I ran him a glass of water, and put it on the coffee table.

"Are there any safe brands?"

He named a couple, including one I’d been using the previous year.

"I got this one in Canada. I’ll swap back to the one I usually use—at least on Tuesdays and Fridays."

Picking up one of the spare blankets, I put it over him, not quite sure how serious the problem was. He’d gone very subdued.

"It’s only a headache," he said, not hiding impatience. "No need to mother hen me."

"I’m sure you’ll appreciate the blanket once I go out," I said, picking up my backpack. "Or would you like me to leave the door open to prove your manly manliness?"

"No," he said, and smiled faintly. "See you next week Cheshire."

Since I was heading over much earlier than usual, I was the first to reach Art Club, and had to ask a passing teacher for help lifting down my model.

"We’ve had students with an interest in architecture come through in the past, of course," she said, "but your attention to detail and precision is truly impressive. Do you think you can finish it in time for the school festival? It would make a wonderful centrepiece for the art exhibition."

Four weeks. I’d only begun on the bridge, and wasn’t in the mood to rush. But perhaps it would be good practice for working on a time limit.

"I’ll try."

Before settling down to work, I opened the app and scored the on top challenge. Rin had won this one, and I gave second to Kyou, and third to Bran. Business done, I made good progress until Gossip entered the room. I’d forgotten about Sirocco entirely, but heard too much about her over the next couple of hours.

Noticing that Lania played only a limited part in the discussion, I corralled her during cleaning-up to ask what was wrong.

"Is it stupid that I feel sorry for her? I’d just be so humiliated if someone filmed me like that."

"Hopefully you’re too sensible to chase someone who doesn’t like you all over a ski resort," I said, patting her shoulder. "And perhaps if Sirocco had a little of your empathy, she wouldn’t have annoyed someone enough that they were willing to post that video. And the forums wouldn’t be dripping with Schadenfreude."

"You’re right, I know." Lania gave me a conspiratorial look. "If she ever starts in on me again, I’ll be able to tell her that whatever she wants is so not my thing, and no matter how she reacts it will feel awesome."

"Who’s coming to the Tokley?" Rick called. "Bowling night!"

"I’ve got my last make-up exam," I said, and waved them off, glad to have a reason to avoid further gossip. It wasn’t that I felt exactly sorry for a wealthy beauty, but I saw no need to kick her now that she was down.

How would she feel, I had to wonder, if she knew that Rin was the mastermind of her humiliation?