I look over at Oliver to make sure I haven’t crossed too many lines. I want to be honest, but I should be careful about how I say some things. His expression hasn’t changed much since his curious taunt.

I pause for a mouthful of cake then continue. “We mainly started drinking at first, just at weekend parties where we could brag, push our limits and flirt with girls, like horny teenagers do. That led to sneaking out to drink whenever we could, we kept finding places around Upper-class that we could have our own little parties at, inviting whoever we saw fit.

“Then they got their hands on drugs. I hated the idea of drugs, but I wanted to be cool so I tried some, hated it and stuck to drinking. For a while, then I gave in. My parents started to clue on by then. But one day, the guys in the group invited the new girl, they didn’t think she was very fun because she wasn’t someone who partied hard, but she seemed to hang around me. After school she caught me once and basically made me realise how stupid I am for falling into every trap that my friends set for me. She wasn’t mean about it, she was stubborn... but so was I.”

Oliver smiles and nods. I roll my eyes. He jumps on my gesture, “Point proven.”

“Okay,” I sigh, then keep explaining, “She stuck around me, and we ended up dating for a while. She saved me from my friends and my parents’ wrath. I stopped showing up to parties, stopped smoking, and stopped drinking. I owe her a lot.”

He watches me, “Where is she now?”

“She had to move because of family. We don’t really talk anymore, we tried to, but we got too busy. It’s probably a good thing, we were too stubborn for each other to handle sometimes.”

He nods, “I can see that.”

“What is that meant to mean?” I ask, sending a playful glare.

“Hmm… you know,” he leads on but doesn’t continue, shoving some sour lollies in his mouth instead.

I roll over and face him. “What about you? What’s your worst?”

He swallows, grimacing as the sour sugar hits the back of his tongue. It takes a moment of recovery before he can talk again. “Well…” he shuffles and gets comfy, “I’m kind of the opposite of you, where instead of having someone to save me from ruin, they kind of brought me to ruin.”

I think about that for a second and something clicks. “Is this linked to the ambiguity around your firsts, perhaps?” I pry. Oliver lets out a nervous laugh, but I just watch him. I know that he’ll only say what he’s comfortable with.

“I don’t talk about it much, because I wasn’t supposed to talk about it.”

A smile creeps across my lips, “Do I smell a teenage scandal?”

He wriggles uncomfortably “It wasn’t like that,” he picks up his Monster to take a sip, catching my knowing stare, “Okay... maybe it was. We weren’t meant to be anything more than friends, so we never considered each other or the things that we did as, well, anything. It was just two friends, wasting their time together.

“We started out texting, but one night he showed up outside my house and we went walking around town. He would buy me energy drinks and we would stay up all night and fall asleep in class the next day. He was older than me, knew more than me, and seemed to know more about me than I did. He would always flirt with me and make me uncomfortable, that turned into experimenting, then into habits.”

He glances at me quickly, as if testing the waters. I still sit there, watching him intently. Oliver takes a big sip.

“What was his name?” I ask, filling the silence.

Oliver’s reply is masked by an undecipherable emotion, “Ethan.”

 I nod and he continues. “Neither of us wanted anyone to know, we would sneak out most nights. I needed him like anything, I couldn’t be me without him. But I was only sixteen. After a while he stopped showing up to steal me away for the night, and when I asked him about it, it was a girl. A few weeks later, he barely even texted me. Then, one day, he showed up to school with a newborn baby in his arms. He refused to look at me.”

“Oliver...” I start.

“It was probably the best for him. He really cleaned himself up after meeting her. He even graduated. His parents even warmed up to him again.”

I don’t let him cut me off this time, “You didn’t deserve that. He didn’t even give you a chance.”

Oliver starts to go shy, distant even. I guess this isn’t usually the thing people talk about with their boyfriends. I’ve never felt that way, I want to support his every emotion, past, present, future. It doesn’t bother me that he’s had people in the past, I have too and I grew past that. I nudge him a little with a soft expression. I want him to know I don’t care if he opens up like this.

“I mean it tore me up for a while. It hurt to know he used me… I know I’m way past that now. Anyway, I’m better off now,” he smiles, but this smile is the most genuine smile I've seen tonight.

I reach over and move Oliver’s drink so it’s out of the way, then I pull him closer to me. Like we were on our first date, we lay there, bodies pressed against each other, ignoring boundaries. He wraps me in his blanket, then plants gentle kisses across my face. I lift my hand to his cheek to guide his kisses over to my mouth, then trap his lips with mine.

 It’s not long before we’re breathless. Desperately locked in each other's embrace, pulling the other closer, wanting more and more. Oliver moves his hands up my chest and neck before linking them behind my head. I run my hand down the back of his leg, convincing him to move closer. He moves slowly and gently, pushing his leg between mine.

His fingers run down my throat, coming into contact with my chain. He grabs it in his hand, pulling it tight against my skin, keeping enough pressure to make it tight, locking me into the kiss, but light enough so it wont hurt. I hum a laugh against his lips. I know he’s teasing me, and he knows it’s working. I want to tell him to be rougher, treat me like it’s the last time he’ll get all of me, but I’ll only go as fast as he needs me to.

Our kisses become more desperate and messier, slipping tongues past each other's lips and biting. I come away from Oliver's mouth and he kisses my neck instead. My heart feels like it’s going to break out of my chest. I feel like I’m shaking head to toe, adrenaline flowing through my hands, legs, head. I can't tell if what I'm feeling is excitement, anxiety, hell or heaven. Through my mixture of emotions I’ve been searching Oliver constantly, but he seems fine, so I swallow all the awkward feelings and roll with it. He comes away from my neck and we watch each other for a second. I scan him again to make sure there are no signs that he’s uncomfortable. I don't want to be asking for too much. I meet his eyes, they seem darker than usual, but behind them, there’s a spark, a flame. Oliver stares back for a while, a shy smile spreads across his lips and he tries to suppress it by biting his lip.

I don’t know if my heart stopped or got kick started but I do know that he is so hot.

I try to disguise the fact that he completely destroyed me without even trying and kiss him more. His whole body relaxes against mine.

“I hope this is okay,” I whisper, even if there isn’t anyone around to hear.

Oliver whispers back, “It’s perfect.”

I take one hand and run it down his back and along his thigh. He repositions his legs, tucking the leg from underneath him to in between mine and hooking the other my thigh. Oliver keeps the momentum rolling. He takes his hands from my neck, trailing them down my chest until they reach the waistband of my pants, my skin quivering as his fingers ghost across my sensitive skin. His fingertips trace the edge around to my back, where they slip just under the waistband. It catches me off guard for a second and I feel Oliver smile against our connected, swollen lips.

Both our hearts beat erratically, either in anticipation of what could happen or from the thrill of it all. I move my hand from his thigh and push it under his sweater, looking for the warmth of his skin. Oliver flinches from my cold fingers gliding up his bare chest. I push my hand up until I can cup his jaw and draw him back into me. He relaxes again, then I drop my hand to rest against his chest.

We play a game. Oliver slips further beneath my waistband, my hand trails lower on his body, so he creeps his hand across my skin, and repeat. In one smooth action, I glide my finger past his belly button and along the sensitive skin near his hip bone. I feel his breath catch, but he doesn’t give in yet. He pushes his hand deeper into my shorts, massaging, pushing, pulling along my thigh, then moves his thigh higher and teases me by grinding against me. He lets out a shaky breath and digs his cold fingertips in when I push back, just barely stopping himself from vocalising how much of a mess he is.

I carefully pull away from the kiss, look down at our interlocked legs, then face Oliver again. We make full eye contact as my fingers trace his waistband, his fly. He doesn’t stop me. I persist and undo the button of his jeans. I keep watching him, firstly for permission, and secondly because I’m admiring the redness of his face, feeling the heat that’s radiating off him. His mischievous eyes watch me back and I receive the green light.

I kiss him, a little softer than we were before, to let him relax again. Then I pull back to focus on his zipper. Oliver hides in the crook of my neck. I unzip his fly all the way, then push my hand into his pants to slip them down a bit. I’m not going to worry about his underwear just yet, we don’t need to rush. I know this is new to him and it's slightly new to me too, even with the experience I have, so I want to be careful.

Oliver pushes his hips against my hand and pulls me back into the kiss. I trace my thumb down his hip bone. His back curves into me as I let my thumb travel just a bit lower. His fingers follow down my arm snapping up my wrist at the last second. Shit. My gaze shoots up, an apology on the tip of my tongue, but within milliseconds Oliver has pushed his way on top of me straddling my hips, looking down at me with a slyness that burns into my memory. He hesitates, embarrassed by his own abruptness, then grabs my hands placing then on his hips. I wipe the shocked look off my face and ease my hips against him, scoffing softly at my own panic.

Oliver leans down, wrapping a fist around my chain and placing the other hand on my chest. I’m trapped by his kiss again. When we break away to catch our breath I catch his jaw with my hand, if he wants to tease, two can play at that game. “Is this why you bought a chain?” I taunt, smiling at him.

He smirks back, “Is this why you brought me to a secluded area?”

He’s right, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. “I’ve seen you more in my head than I have in person... I need you, that’s why.”

I barely finished my sentence before Oliver is kissing me, pulling my face close to his with a steady grip on my chain. We kiss, desperately. Oliver is laying against me as much as he can despite being body to body. He’s overflowing and taking it all out on me. I couldn’t ask for more.

He takes a breath, tugging at my shirt, “take this off.”

I sit up slightly, undoing the first few buttons before rushing to pulling it off. Oliver helps it over my head and places it to the side. We connect again as soon as its off. The cold nips at my skin, Oliver’s fingers trace the muscles across my torso. My hands are pushing under his shirt, grabbing at his waist band and moving his hips.

He sits back, purposely grinding against me. I let my head fall back and he thinks he can giggle at me so I take some control back. I sit up quickly, supporting his waist so he doesn’t fall back. My hand finds the back of his sweater and swiftly pulls it over his head. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Oliver like this, not even in a short sleeved shirt. I especially haven’t seen him with messed up hair, a red face, exposed chest, and pants half down his ass. It’s so fucking hot. I try to be subtle with my glances as to not make him self conscious, but my eyes are all over him and I can’t stop.

I trace the freckles across his back like a dot-to-dot while he kisses down my neck. His hand gently grabs the hair at the nape of my neck, pulling my head back so he can kiss down my Adams apple. Oliver shuffles, sitting lower on my hips, dragging his kiss down my neck, nibbling along my collar bone and down my chest. I run my hand through his hair.

“I thought you were new to this,” I tease as he kisses my sternum.

Oliver glances up, resting his chin on me, “I’m new to sex... some other things not so much. Is this okay?”

I answer quickly “It’s amazing, Oliver.” What else am I supposed to say. The boy I’m in love with, between my legs, sharing a side of him that I’ve barely seen glimpses of. The furthest I’ve got with him has mostly been in my day dreams. This is heaven, I want this. “Are you okay?”

He smiles shyly, “Perfectly.” His hand slides slowly down my torso, running past my waistband over my pants. Fuck. He’s watching my reaction the entire time. Part of me wants to tease him, turning the tables again, the rest of me wants to see where this goes. Oliver’s kisses trail down my stomach, below my belly button. I find myself holding my breath. As he hooks his fingers beneath the waistline of my pants and underwear I sit up slightly. Ugh, fuck it. Oliver pulls back, surprised, worried maybe. I place a hand behind his head and pull him into a kiss. I feel around with the other hand, gripping a nearby blanket. I wrap it around us, draped in a red-purple plum-coloured plush fabric as I wiggle my waistband down. He swiftly recovers from the shock and takes the hint. I don’t know how much is too much. I work on Oliver’s already loose jeans, easily slipping them down, he kicks them to the side. Can I go further? He works on my pants, stretching the elastic to pull them down. We are kissing, it’s sloppy, we’re giving in. I love this. I love him. I’m anxious and excited all in one and its showing. I don’t care. I want to see all of him so I’ll show him the same.

My pants are pulled down, Oliver’s gripping the band of my jocks, tugging at them. I pull him into me, laying back. He’s on top of me. I go to do it for him, with one side of my jocks down, still face to face, chest to chest. But Oliver jumps back.

“Shit,” his phone is vibrating, left in the pocket of his jeans.

I stop. Quickly, he rolls off me, yanking his underwear back up, and tugging the blanket to cover him. He snatches up his phone. His face dropping at the caller ID.

He answers, “Dad?”