The best thing about him is that he doesn't think he's all that good-looking. You're like, hello, is he blind? Fack! When you're walking down the street with him, you can't help pulling away sometimes, unwinding his arm from round your waist, just to take a step back and peek at him from a distance. His face... how he looks at you and grins and runs towards you and grabs you round the waist and goes 'rrrrrrrrraaaaAAAH!!!!' like a scary bear, and then kisses you all over your mouth... you dig that the mostest.

You love shoving your hands in his hair. It's really soft and straight. He smells wonderful. Sometimes when he's gone you put your palms up over your nose and just smell him, hot skin and some kind of boy-hair wax product that he doesn't like to tell people he uses, and t-shirts from some skateboy shop all Comfort-fresh. And when you fuc—but no, you don't wanna talk about that.

How'd you meet him? God, it was, you were in that record shop in Croydon with your friend, and they bumped into a friend of theirs, some boy, who was with a friend of *his*. None of you had met this boy before. You all had your arms full of old vinyl. Somehow you all ended up going to the pub and getting plastered. It was a Saturday afternoon – you know how afternoon drunkness can just be the best sometimes? It was dark in the pub and you were shy at first but this boy – Daniel / Jack / Wolfie (from Wolfgang – he thinks it's kinda gay but you think it's cute) / ended up sitting in a corner and chatting while your friend caught up with her mate. And you switched from pints to double vodkas, you know what it's like, and then you can't even remember what happened or what he said or why you did it but the next thing you knew you were outside the pub kissing him so hard you thought you'd die.

No, no, your friends can't meet him – he's away at university most of the time, doing a PHD up in Bristol. He was just down for a bit meeting a friend. In what? Oh, Physics and Philosophy, yeah, but he's not a geek. He's lovely. He's so cool and he doesn't even know it. he just, fuuck, you don't know what he sees in you but you don't care. You're gonna take advantage of this for as long as humanely possible. You're gonna ride his ass till his jeans have rubbed away and there's nothing, just scraps of skin, shiny bone, shards of heart.

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