The Great British Summertime

The bathroom wasn’t the biggest in the world but it was quite a bit larger than the one at home with a sizable tub that could easily fit two people in it. There were also several different taps. You had your bog standard hot and cold taps but then you had ones that would spill scented bath crème into the water, creating bubbles and leaving the bathroom smelling of something sweet. For the bath she was going to have with Trent, Millie picked a soft mix of fruits, the vibrating water particles evaporating into the air, filling the bathroom with the scent. Once the bath was half full, Millie wriggled out of the skimpy pair of knickers a momentarily left the bathroom to put them in the hamper, the second of a twin set, that was in the corner of the master bedroom in the house. Millie emerged from the bedroom just as Trent began to pick his way up the stairs and she darted back into the bathroom, leaving giggles in her wake.

Once back in the bathroom, the girl put one leg over the side of the bath, then the other and lowered herself into the piping hot water. She leaned back, allowing the warmth to pry her bones out from the cold the rain had forced them into, and dipped her hair underneath the surface of the water. She reopened her eyes when she heard the footsteps halt and she smiled upon seeing Trent lingering in the doorway. She tipped her head to the side as she drew up to the side of the bath, her eyes having fallen to his boxers. She giggled a little, bringing a bubble-covered hand to her mouth and then suddenly, a lone hiccup tore from her mouth. Then another, and another, and another. Millie grinned widely at Trent and tipped herself back into the water, holding her breath as she lowered herself totally beneath, allowing the water to caress her soft flesh and continue to warm her through.

Lifting herself back up out of the water, Millie raised an eyebrow at Trent, gesturing for him to come closer. “Look,” She told him, trying in vain to feign a serious expression between hiccups. “I’ve seen it all before. Get it off and get in the bath. You need to get warm, you silly.”

It was as if he did believe he had hidden behind some invisible wall. Too bad he wasn't, and couldn't, be part of the wallpaper. Trent stepped forward uncertainly upon Millie's words, the expression on his face resembling that of a child that was caught sneaking a toy into his bag at the toy shop. His face, however, gave way to a look of increasing amusement to the hiccups that didn't look like they wanted to stop. They were enough, however, to keep the boy distracted in his attention to Millie.

Charmed by the adorabubbleness of the girl, he took a couple of steps away from the door, so that he stood close enough for her to reach out to poke him if she so wished to. Fortunately, Trent barely noticed, let alone allow himself to be sucked in to the self-conscious drain of that. Instead, he eyed the girl with a bemused grin. It was only at this precarious proximity to Millie that he found himself gaping involuntarily at her. It had been awhile, even he could agree thoroughly with that thought that popped into his head.

"B-" But the look on Millie's face was set with some sort of determination, sufficient to convince him that if he was hoping to get himself out of this situation, he was really just fighting a lost battle. Truthfully, though, he didn't really want to fight. He was straddling, as usual, the margin between what he wanted to do, and what he did not dare to step forward to allow himself to do. Trent was, after all, merely a teenage boy. Even with the protests against the intensity of his responses to Millie in this state, he was lying if he claimed that he didn't want nothing more than to do just what he really wanted to do with her. It was only a matter of time. It was only a matter of when he gets more comfortable with giving in to the effects of her presence.

"No, you haven't!" But, then, there was a smirk. And then, Trent looked uncertainly down at his socks, and bent to remove them. Standing upright again, he checked to see that the girl was still staring expectantly at him. Biting his lower lip, but certainly resigned to it, he reached for the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down, pass his thighs, knees, and to his ankles. Keeping his eyes fixed to the floor, Trent stepped out from his boxers. Then, stealing a glance at Millie, he placed both hands on the side of the bathtub, before extending a rather long leg over the side and into what felt like scorching hot bathwater.

"Ah!" He jerked slightly in reaction to the heat, then stayed where he was, hoping to adjust to it as soon as he could. Stealing another glance at Millie, he summoned sufficient words to speak. It was a feat, after all, seeing as he was stripped off the comfort of clothes. Then, bravely, he lifted his other leg and dipped it in the water too, quickly placing it level with the other foot as soon as he did so. "Ah!" He repeated the reaction, recovering faster this time as his legs shared the burden of the warmth. Then, standing upright once again, Trent reached to cup his ladyboybits.

"The water's too hot, Mills!" Trent attempted to lower himself again, but stopped just before the shield that he had made with his hands first touched the bathwater. Slightly helpless, he looked imploringly now to Millie, hoping she would understand what he was genuinely worried about.

The bath was soporific and as Millie laid back into the water, she could feel sleep already drawing her in. She hadn’t realised just how cold the rain had been, how it had slipped beneath her skin and chilled her to the bone. With expert ease, Millie lifted her hair up and twisted it into a makeshift bun, the longevity of which the dampness of the locks ensured. She raised her eyebrows at Trent when he slowly began to peel off his clothes and she rolled her eyes, figuring that it was about time he did so seeing as he’d lingered in the doorway long enough. Millie was beginning to feel quite a bit better – a side-effect, she supposed, of being surrounded by the calming warmth of the bath – but she was also beginning to get antsy, a side-effect of the lack of nicotine.

Millie grinned impishly at Trent’s indignation. “Have too,” she retorted without even thinking. “The tufts of hair are adorable.” Millie giggled again and shook her head, lifting her hands out of the water, carrying in her palms bubbles which she proceeded to blow in Trent’s direction. “Now come on.” She encouraged him. “Get in, for goodness sake.”

Already outside, the pattering of rain could be heard on the roof. Millie turned a little and looked at the mirror quizzically, giving Trent the privacy he needed, before lowering her gaze and reaching for the bar of soap that was in the dish on the side of the bath. She hummed thoughtfully to herself and then reached for the flannel that was also in the dish, bringing both down into the water but making sure to keep them firmly in her grasp.

At the sound of Trent’s howl, Millie looked up, her eyes widening with delight at the sight of him. Immediately she began to laugh and lowered herself into the water as if to mock him. Millie lifted her leg and nudged him playfully with her foot before sitting back up, her grin once again fixed on her lips.

“It’s not going to fall off, Trent.” Millie informed him gently before balling the flannel in her fist. She brought herself carefully, just in case she were to slip, up into a standing position and put her hands on his shoulders, lifting her eyes to his, fixing him with a somewhat pitiless stare. “Trent. If you don’t sit down right this second, I will have to dunk you in and you and I both know you won’t like that so just sit down. It’s not that hot. If my nipples haven’t been seared off then your bollocks certainly won’t be.”

Trent had been baffled by the mention of the supposed tufts of hair, but just as he began to make more noises of protest, he felt himself being coaxed in the bath, standing only to protect the charring of his precious bits. He glared in return to Millie's attempt at disturbing his balance, only to find himself grinning in more genuine amusement. The boy might be uptight at odd times, times when he found himself in an immensely awkward situation of nakedness, but that didn't mean he forgot how to have fun. Removing a hand from the make-shift shield that he thought he had made, Trent lowered himself to reach for the surface of the bathwater, before mildly flicking it in Millie's direction.

When the girl made to stand out and up from the water, he averted his eyes almost instantly away, again afraid of his reaction to what he was certainly going to see if he didn't. Then, quickly, he decided that the best place to fix his eyes to was still Millie's face. This, he did. Trent glared at her in a mockingly spiteful manner in response to her threat, trying to ignore how his insides jumped at her last sentence. One really shouldn't have his hormones pressed down in such a manner. Still, he did what he thought was best. Sighing, slightly dramatically, making as if she was really the one testing his patience, the boy began to lower himself gradually, wincing a little when the heat first swarmed the place he was failing to protect.

"Ss-oww!" But he held still, then continued to lower himself completely, until he felt his bum rest on the hard surface of the bathtub. "Why do I always find myself somehow without clothes with you? I mean, right now, you clearly look like just a very wet mop, Mophead." Even he knew there wasn't any clear link between his sentences. At least, though, he was saying something, anything, to diffuse his anxiety about the situation. Anyone would have counted himself lucky. It wasn't that he didn't, he was simply too caught up in how lousy he was in these times. After all, he had never been one of the more popular boys at school among the girls, let alone attempt to feel like a stud when he was in the nude.

And then, he warmed to the warmth. It didn't take long, but it wasn't immediate either. The steam hung heavy in the air as the entire room, even its occupants, were not spared of the wet atoms swarming the place. Not daring to lower his knees, something of which have become a temporary shield of his parts from, well, accidental brushes, Trent leaned back as he allowed his head to fall back to the end of the tub, resting at the edge of it. Then, he took his head off to dip all of it into the hot water, coming up shortly after the dip, feeling his face burn. Yet, there was something nice and comfy to that heat now. With both hands, Trent reached to cup his face, especially his cheeks, feeling for the rise in temperature of its surface.

It was only then that Trent was aware of the surface of bubbles. Well, he certainly wasn't paying much attention to the bath earlier, which was typical of him, given his lack of ability to multi-task, even when he was required to think and do something at the same time. It was a wonder that didn't get to him when he plays Quidditch. The boy was happy now, bobbing a little even, looking like a much younger child than a teenager, satisfied by the smell and feel of the bath. The surface of thick bubbles also meant that he could leave out thinking about what he could not see, what was hidden under the surface. He could rest easy now. Grinning, Trent sank himself lower, feeling his shoulders bury themselves in the heat, lifted his feet to prop them up to the side, and flicked water gently again at Millie, watching the bubbles that popped or flew up from his action.

The storm clouds seemed to roll in regardless of the predictions that once two o’clock came and passed, the skies would brighten up again for the washing to be hung out and dried as much as possible before the evening demanded the material to be carted back in, folded and put away in the hope that maybe, just maybe, they’d be wearable in the morning. Instead, as the heavens opened once more, the clothes were once again tugged from their position, pegged onto the line and drawn inside before being bundled up and tossed into the tumble dryer, the woman of the house begrudgingly turning on the dryer and allowing it to drain electricity from the underground lines. Kettles were flicked on and central heating units were bumped up a few degrees as people resigned themselves to a night in, switching on the television and sitting back on their couches and torturing themselves with inane television as the clock ticked by to what they considered a sensible time to go to bed. Many had already retreated to their beds, deciding instead of waiting it out, to sleep through until a newer, brighter day dawned on the small village and allowed people to work again.

In the small cottage in what would otherwise be considered the ‘tourist’ area of the small town, present there was not the same defeatist frame of mind. Sat comfortably in piping hot breast-deep water that had been scented by a mix of different fruits, was a girl part covered in bubbles wearing a smile on her face that could end wars and cure cancer. Her eyes were saucer-sized, framed by long, dark eyelashes for such fair, porcelain skin and spun-gold hair. Her lips were thin but a deep scarlet in colour, a ripe rouge that a rose could not so much as dream of symbolising. Her cheeks, plump and pronounced were flush with a similar colour, plied into the stain by the tickle of her eyelashes against her skin with every blink of her eyes. The mirth her body seemed to radiate was contagious with laughter billowing suddenly from houses all around the area as the moods of the inhabitants grew buoyant and optimistic.

Her giggles erupted into the heat of the air as she watched her partner-in-crime lower himself hesitantly into the water. She smiled impishly at him, her eyes widening a little as she grew mischievous. Her face morphed into an expression of false dismay as he commented on her current appearance and she threw her arms over her chest, crossing them with a huff and jutting out her bottom lip, staring at him mournfully so as to communicate her displeasure. Really though, she was not offended. She was merely amused and she knew Trent well enough to tell quite easily when he was deflecting his embarrassment by mocking her. She merely smiled indulgently at him and slid forward a little towards him, one hand coming up out of the bath water to pat him lightly on the cheek in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

“You love it,” she told him simply, as if she were talking of the weather rather than the state of nakedness which, as Trent rightly pointed out, they always seemed to find themselves in. “It wouldn’t be the same if we weren’t naked and utterly delirious. Something would be wrong!”

Millie giggled a little as the flecks of water from Trent’s feet splashed at her and she held up her hands to protect her face before peeking at Trent from behind them. Then, she couldn’t quite explain why but something within her click almost. As she looked at him, she realised something that had been skirting beneath the surface of everything she’d ever known when it came to and concerned Trenton Thomas. She realised, first, that he had changed as she’d suspected but he wasn’t taller. No he was older-looking. Older in face and manner even though for a second he looked like the boy she knew. And perhaps that was what made it so poignant, the fact that for a single second, he was the boy before easing back into the new comfort of manhood. The boy was gone, she realised, and he’d been gone for some time.

But as she lowered her hands she felt her heart speed up in her chest and her breath quicken, her eyes averting from his face as she battled with something she felt she’d always known but had never really sought to accept or acknowledge. She found that she’d always felt this way but it had never been that kind of feeling. She realised that it was always there, that it had always been a feeling but never that feeling and that that feeling had taken over every other, like a binding, choking vine when she considered Trenton Thomas. It was in that moment that Melissa Finnigan realised that she had fallen in love with him the way you fall asleep; slowly, and then all at once.

Her eyes, once they made it back to the subject of her intense affection, were wide with irrational fear, sparked and alive with just the right amount of determination. She pressed herself forward, onto her knees and moved up out of the water, bringing herself closer to Trent. He hands found his face, one hand looping up into his hair while the other stayed cupped around his cheek. Her gaze met his and her lips parted. She licked them hesitantly and dropped her gaze to his, glancing up only to check his expression before finally leaning in and capturing his lips with her own.

It was funny how it seemed as if Millie didn't notice whatever smell his body could possibly be emanating, what with the lack of showers, let alone baths, Trent had been doing as of late. It was a wonder, perhaps. The smell of fruits that was filling the place might have aided him, a lot, in that department. If one should even possess so much self-assurance, one could even be inclined to imagine it was love, of whatever sort, that seemed to be the chief motivation behind the acceptance of his self-deprivation of body hygiene. Unfortunately, self-assurance wasn't something that the boy possessed. It was a good thing, then, that he was barely conscious of that particular aspect, thoroughly distracted by an acute awareness in his disposition with the girl.

"I'm hardly delirious! I'm thinking with clarity, b-" Then quickly, "Moppydoodle," followed by a chuckle. There was, however, something about the bath ... whatever it was, it was making Trent relax. With baby steps, his mind began to abandon, albeit temporarily, the worries that had a penchant of plaguing him. Leaning back as soon as he was quickly bored of throwing flicks of water at the girl, Trent sighed, more in pleasure of rest than of an indication of resignation to whatever water the universe wanted to douse him in. With the beginnings of numbness touching his thighs, the boy lowered his feet back into the water gently, taking care not to greatly upset the level of bathwater that he was glad now that Millie had somehow guided him to indulge in.

Smiling in a mixture of gratitude and delight, Trent allowed his eyelids to flicker open, absent-mindedly lolling his head about, enjoying how he didn't have to focus through the steam of the warm bath. It was, really, like the mental state evoked by the poison he acquired and kept. Except, of course, it was way healthier. There was such joy in simple pleasures, after all. Trent's eyes flew wide open only when Millie entered his periphery. Sure, there was movement in the water, but he barely noticed it. The boy's hand found her waist. Unfortunately, it must have felt more like a supportive hand. After all, Millie looked as if she could readily slip and hurt her chin, somehow, what with her tight and precarious position over him.

Puzzled, he didn't trust himself to speak, which really wasn't a surprise at all. Instead, Trent found himself alternating his attention, once again. It was nigh on impossible not to find himself pricked with growing eagerness at just a simple look at Millie, who had half her body out of the water. Yet, it was rude to stare, wasn't it? Well, he thought so. Embarrassed at a longer-than-appropriate stare at the girl's body, Trent attempted, but honestly failed, to avert his eyes to whatever little surface of the bathwater that he could. He bit his lower lip, hard, then stopped when he felt her touch through his hair. It took everything to keep from letting himself go to Millie like how he did to the bath.

It must have been the delirium of the heat and the steam, but Trent couldn't find much of his typical resistance. It wasn't long before he actually met Millie's gaze, watching her eyes, her lips, then feeling the confuddlement of being cornered to an undeniably sweet position of utter response. He resigned himself to the girl's lips. Really, though, it was a lot better than that choice of word would suggest. Trent's touch against Millie's waist now became a sort of hold, unconsciously pulling her closer to him with it. He now pushed himself up against the girl, hungry to taste her after what felt like a time long enough, that he had suffered her absence. As he did so, Trent lowered himself back down as he felt his senses melt from the heat of the kiss, so that it flowed through his body and melded with the water. With that, he also pulled Millie more forcefully down now, so that she had to rely on his body as support from falling back down into the tub.

Bringing his other hand away from the edge of the tub, Trent brought it to the bare but warm back of the girl, caressing the small of her back as he continued to indulge himself in what he was sure to insist, later, was began by her. The boy continued to kiss Millie hungrily, bringing one hand up now to feel the softness of her ear, from the top of it to the gentle earlobe, delighting himself even in touching parts of the girl that he was almost convinced didn't cross any line of intimacy. When that hand strayed to the back of the girl's head, Trent allowed it to get lost in the beautiful mess of her hair, pushing her head even closer against his, as if there was still distance to be rid off, despite the touch of forehead to forehead.

The temperature outside had dropped several degrees since the early afternoon but the temperature inside had climbed the same amount, steaming up the cool panes of glass that were being laid siege to by the blustering wind that was whipping through the trees. The bathroom was sweltering, to the point where perspiration even while cleansing one’s self was a given thing. Millie’s hair was curling at the ends, ringlets slowly forming as it gave way to the humidity and the dampness that was rolled into one within the tiled room. Her eyes were hooded with a mixture of fatigue and lust, a side-effect of both the heat of the room and Trent. Her hands were moist, though whether that was from the water or created of their own accord, she did not know. Her breathing was exhaled in short bursts, inhaled gradually and slowly as the room filled with very little in the way of fresh, room-temperature air. The temperature had been heaved by the bath, most certainly, and despite it all, Millie couldn’t bring herself to mind.

The water climbed higher, licking at Millie’s thighs as its displacement brought it ever closer to the rim of the tub. Her fingers looped tighter into the dark mop of hair atop his head and she couldn’t help but inwardly rejoice as he began to return the kiss she felt would garner very little or no response at all. She drew nearer him almost instinctively, his hand against her lower back an unnecessary guide to him. Her hand fell unceremoniously from his cheek as he leaned back, her fingers finding his shoulder in order to steady herself as she tumbled with him. Though, it wasn’t really a tumble, per se, but tumbling just sounded better, in her mind and mine.

Millie had realised a long time ago that something about the nature of her and Trent’s relationship had changed. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly when that had happened but she assumed it had happened sometime over the course of the past year. She supposed it that that she lived for, the almost-relationship she had with Trent. It was of the many foolish reasons she lived for. He bore no kind of stability for her, just as she did not for him. Yet for some inexplicable reason, they worked. In their uselessness, in their inability to be good for one another, they worked; a mutual poison. Perhaps that was the addiction of it, the need to try again, to experience the pain of knowing that the trial, the endeavour, was a failed one. They were sweet pains for one another, poisons that they revelled in even though they knew that it was impossible for success, to extinguish the danger that came with it. Because neither of them wished to commit. Or perhaps they did. Maybe they just didn’t wish to say, for fear of that all too familiar rejection.

Millie’s fingers raked through Trent’s hair, her opposing hand tracing over his shoulder and feeling the length of his arm before dipping down across his chest, ghosting over as much skin as possible before her own body obstructed her way. She relished the kiss, that much was clear. It was one that she was going to cherish, for understandable fear of never receiving it again.

Trent continued to push against Millie, desperately willing for the distance that was allowed between them to magically be removed by the lack of space between what is skin on skin. The yearning that drove him was not merely a manifestation of lust, but one that begged for her to fill him, reach for all the empty and sad spaces in his being, and fill him up. There was only one person now who, even if he didn't let her in for her to understand, could make him feel less alone. With both hands pulling her towards him, the boy had Millie in a tight hug, even as he begged for her kisses with his lips, relishing the taste of her response.

Trent's response, the most unwitting one at least, pressed against the girl's thighs. Then, as if in sudden realisation of it, he pulled away but held fast to the girl, looking uncertainly into her eyes. It was a feat already, really, that he could look her in the eyes. Perhaps it was going to be one of those different days when Trent would again let his guard down, if only for some gratification that didn't involve being a personal recluse, and that involved the one person he cared for the most.

"Sorry," he muttered quickly, nervous, embarrassed that he couldn't hide from her, even as he wished she would notice and put him out of his misery already. Then, as if it wasn't already awkward for him, Trent quickly added, "Moppydoodle." Once again, attempting to diffuse the situation with a lame attempt at the terrible nickname, he chuckled along with it, relaxing his hold on Millie. "It's, ah-uh ... it's h-w-hot. No." Flustered, he shook his head, overwrought with anxiety. "I don't mean hot. I mean, yeah, hot. I mean, warm. Very, uh-" He swallowed. "I mean, temperature hot. Warm." He shrugged, then a nervous grin.

Then, in a sudden flurry of action, Trent attempted to stand up and out of the bath, surely pushing Millie off him in the endeavour. Half-tumbling out of the bath dangerously, he stood, one foot out of the tub, one foot in, looking in confuddlement at her. Then, only then, he realised how wrong that move was, now that he was providing a too complete picture of his situation. Pricked with embarrassment, Trent made a grab for a towel at the rack near them. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen him in any way like this before, really. He was caught between suffering modesty or letting himself go. Then, since the situation couldn't have gone worse than it already had, he lifted the towel and threw it at Millie, chuckling nervously once again, but enjoying the momentary act of jest.

This was a situation Millie felt that she had not been in with Trent as often as she would have liked; though she would have hardly called it a situation, rather, a wondrous occasion – but that was perhaps a little bit too fluffy. The bath had heightened more than just the temperature – it had played with desire, with feelings and had brought them to this moment in time, to this level of desire. She realised that, just like the time before when they’d joined, for however long the moment lasted, as one, it was the result of sexual and emotional tension. She experienced a varied amount of emotions when it came to Trent: love, lust, exasperation, despair – anything and everything. She loved him though. That was the strongest of her emotions for him. She loved him wholly, irrevocably and consistently. She didn’t ever want to desert him or allow him to desert her. She realised she was bound to him, in one of the most beautiful and dangerous ways.

Her own desire for Trent was well hidden, one of the many advantages of the female body, but the same could not be said for his. Millie’s lips quirked upwards into a half smirk as she kissed him, her hand moving south to find the bodily translation of his desire. Though in a manner typical of him, before she could reach him, he broke the kiss and paused, making Millie’s hand freeze and stall in its movements. Millie blinked curiously at Trent as he began to stutter out his excuses and she gave a yelp as he thrust her away, her bum landing hard against the bottom of the bath. A second yelp broke from her lips when her bum connected with the ceramic. She looked up at Trent, hurt shining in her eyes, before her gaze was blacked out completely.

Millie’s hands flew to her face and she tore the towel away, balling it up as best she could in her hands before hurling it back at Trent. Millie threw herself up into a standing position and glared at him though her eyes seemed to suddenly glisten with mirth. She stepped out onto the rug that was lain out so that they didn’t slip upon getting out of the bath and Millie took the towel back from him. She glanced down at his waist before looking up again, raising an eyebrow before tugging the towel out of his grasp and darting under his arm, throwing open the bathroom door and darting into the hallway, opening up the door of the master bedroom and throwing herself inside, confident that he’d follow her.

"Ack!" The towel boomeranged, returned in a quick Millie retaliation. It was a rather poor showing of the boy's Chaser abilities, perhaps, what with that being a throw that he should have caught before it hit him. Then again, one must never forget that Millie played Quidditch too. Whatever it was, there was a far greater thing to be played now, even if the thought of it could bring a blush to Trent's very strange mind. It was a good thing, then, that he was distracted. Sure, there had been the moment when the girl had made it beyond a shadow of doubt that she knew.

She knew. Merlin, he swore in his head. Then, shaking the embarrassment from it, he turned just as she bolted out of the bathroom. With a yelp of playful excitement, Trent did not spare a moment's hesitation before he followed suit, a battle cry escape his lips to accompany the flurry of footsteps as he ran after Millie.

There was a comfortable breeze about the bedroom. The window was open to the fresh breeze from beyond, and the white curtains danced along in a sort of welcome to it. It certainly did not take long for Trent to find himself in the cosy nook of a rustic room, framed by the triangular sides of the attic roof. Still, it would be some time before the boy would stop to notice the pleasures of the cottage bedroom. Now, he was simply intent on avenging Millie's attack against him.

Laughing, he grabbed the girl before she could reach the bed, intending to pick her up for a twirl before she could find safety in it. As soon as he had his hold around her waist, Trent did just that. He did a victory shout before turning and turning and turning and turning and turning, and then falling, his knees bucking at the state of dizzyness that the spins left him in. Cheers to his speed, now, the boy managed to push the girl up before he felt his back hit the bed. The thud against his head was not good. For all of the comforts of the cottage, one thing was sure lacking - the bed was thin and laid upon a hard wooden bottom. The impact led to a surprised yelp from the boy, who had expected a plump bed to hit back on. Just as that happened, too, the girl fell back onto him, thanks to gravity.

Ambushed on both ends by the suddenness of impact, Trent squeezed his eyes shut in reflex before opening them again quickly. Then, recovering from it, he grinned again before letting go of his grasp of the girl and placing both hands beneath the back of his head. Once again, it was only when the flurry of activity begins to slow down that the boy remembered the lack of barriers between his body to Millie's. Taking a moment to grasp this, feeling how his excitement had not been quelled, Trent bit his lower lip before daring to look the girl in the eyes. It was not as if there was anywhere else he could possibly look at. He should have gotten used to this by now. Trent did a mental nod, searching her eyes for a sign of something, anything.