She's Got It Bad. Sarah Mayberry

stilled, the only sound his harsh breathing as he stared at the words, emblazoned across the plumpness of her mons, the darkness of her pubic hair showing faintly through the thin white cotton.

      Loving and giving. That was exactly what Zoe was. She was also smart, brave, stubborn. She could sketch and draw like no one he’d ever known, and she never backed off from a challenge. Never wore skirts, either, or makeup. Knew how to change the starter motor in her father’s old Mini. How to throw a cricket ball and kick a football.

      She had no idea how gorgeous she was. How many of the guys at school watched her when she walked past in her jeans and T-shirts with no bra. Her green eyes, the perfect oval of her face, the dimple in her chin. In a few years’ time, she was going to understand how much she was worth, how precious she was.

      “Liam,” she said, wiggling her hips impatiently. “Hurry up!”

      She was going to regret this moment. After all, who was he? Liam Masters, thick as two planks if his teachers were to be believed. Homeless, parentless. Alone, destined for nothing. Staying here with the Fords was the first lucky break he’d had in his life. He didn’t expect it to last, or to change anything, despite how hard Mrs. Ford was campaigning for him to repeat a year so he could get better marks and apply to university.

      He knew who he was, what he was. He’d learned it young, at his father’s knee.

      There was no way he was good enough for Zoe Ford. Certainly not good enough to be her first.

      “What? What’s wrong?” Zoe propped herself up on both elbows to stare at him.

      “I can’t do this.”

      He grabbed the waistband of her jeans and pulled them up. She resisted, a frown on her face.

      “What? What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

      “We’re not going to do this, Zoe. You need to get dressed and go back to the house.”

      She stared at him, her mouth open. He could see the hurt in her eyes as desire was replaced by confusion.

      “Did I—Did I do something wrong?” she asked. “Tell me what to do, what to say, and I’ll do it, Liam.”

      “You need to get dressed,” he said again.

      He tugged the two sides of her jeans together and pulled up the zipper. She pushed his hands away from the stud when he went to close it.

      “I don’t understand what’s happening,” she said.

      There were tears in her eyes. She pushed herself backward on the bed and pulled her knees up to her chest. “Liam, please. Don’t do this.”

      “This is a big mistake. I’m doing you a favor,” he said.

      He tucked himself back into his jeans and zipped himself up. Then he stood at the end of the bed, looking down at her.

      “You need to go before someone catches you in here,” he said.

      She blinked away tears. “Is that what you’re worried about? Someone finding us? Because I would never tell, Liam. I love you. You know that. I’d never get you in trouble.”

      “You’re fifteen, Zoe. Tom trusts me, your parents trust me. They took me in.”

      She shook her head. “Bull. This isn’t about my parents or my brother. Tell me what’s really wrong. Is it because I’m a virgin? Or is it my boobs? I know they’re small but I didn’t think you’d mind. Mom said they’ll get bigger as I get older…”

      Liam swore under his breath and raked a hand through his hair.

      “It’s nothing to do with you, Zoe. It’s me, okay? You don’t want me to be your first.”

      “I do. More than anything.”

      She stared at him with her big trusting eyes, so earnest and open and honest.

      “You have no idea who I really am.” He thought of the girls he’d slept with, the fights he’d had, the things he’d stolen, the lies he’d told. He thought of him and his mom escaping into the night with their lives crammed into a single black garbage bag thanks to his old man. “You “don’t want me.”

      Zoe shook her head. “I do. You’re the only one I want.”

      She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she moved to stand in front of him. She bared herself so that she could reach for his hands, pulling them toward her.

      “I want you. See?” she said, pressing his hands against her breasts.

      Her eyes, her face pleaded with him. He felt the warm softness of her beneath his hands. Wanted so much to haul her to him and take what she was offering.

      He forced himself to keep his hands unresponsive, to push her away instead of drawing her closer. She gasped.

      He stooped to grab her T-shirt.

      “Get dressed,” he said.

      She just stared at him, her arms once more crossed protectively.

      “I love you, Liam,” she said. “Please don’t do this.”

      “You’ll thank me one day,” he said.

      He dropped the T-shirt onto the end of the bed and turned his back on her, walking to the window so he wouldn’t have to look at her a second longer. He would never forget how she looked, standing there with her eyes so full of pain and confusion.

      The rush of movement and the sound of the door slamming signaled her exit. He closed his eyes.

      So close. He’d come so close to taking something that wasn’t his. Something perfect.

      He crossed to the bed and sat on the edge, his head in his hands. Images from the past few minutes flashed across his mind. Zoe’s breasts, damp from where he’d kissed her. Her eyes, heavy with need. The hitch in her breathing when he’d slid his hand between her legs.

      He knew what he had to do. He pulled out the duffel bag from beneath his bed. It didn’t take him long to pack. Life had taught him to travel light. He hesitated a moment before grabbing the photograph he kept hidden in the biker magazines beside his bed. Tom and him and Zoe, laughing last summer as they attacked each other with water pistols. He slid it into his back pocket then headed for the door.

      His motorbike was in the garage and he wheeled it carefully past Mr. Ford’s Mini and Mrs. Ford’s sensible Volvo wagon. He propped it on its stand at the end of the driveway in the circle of light from a streetlamp and settled in to wait for Tom to come home.

      Liam was stiff and his ass was numb from sitting on the cold concrete curb before Tom turned the corner at two in the morning. Liam stood as his friend stopped in front of him, a smile on his face.

      “Mate. What are you doing out here?” Tom was hazyeyed, a bit drunk. “Why’d you leave so early, you bastard?

      Party was just getting started. Sally was mighty pissed with you, let me tell you.”

      Then he registered Liam’s bike, the duffel bag strapped on the back. His smile faded.

      “What’s going on?”

      “I’m heading off. Time to move on,” Liam said.

      Tom frowned. “What? What do you mean?”

      Don’t want to overstay my welcome,” Liam said with a shrug.

      “No way. You can’t go like this. Mom’ll freak out. Dad’ll have a cow. God knows what Zoe will do. You know she worships the ground you freakin’ walk on.”

      Liam pulled the letter he’d written from his back pocket. It wasn’t much—a bare thanks, a thin explanation, plus all the cash he had on him to pay for his bills to date. It would have to do.

      Tom stared at the envelope, refusing to take it.