Simon was still rabbiting on. “Oh, come on, Claire, you know how you look. You’re stunning. You’ve always got boys on the go. You don’t need a loser like me to tell you how amazing you are, you…”
“Shut up,” she said, not unkindly, and put her hands on his cheeks, leant in, and kissed him full on the lips.
Simon’s heart stopped beating. He stopped breathing. Everything in the world was silent, drained of colour, out of focus. All that existed were her soft lips on his, her fingers on his cheeks, her nose brushing against his. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think.
She broke off the kiss, leant back, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I… don’t know what came over me.”
Simon couldn’t look her in the eye. “No problem, that was… nice…” he stumbled, unable to come up with the words to adequately express how he was feeling. Perhaps no such words existed.
“Please, don’t tell anyone at school,” she pleaded. Her nervousness hung in the air, and when Simon didn’t respond straight away, she continued “Promise me. It’s why I chose Iron Girl, so I could wear the helmet. Cover my face, have somewhere to tuck my hair. Nobody must know who I am. It’s like my secret identity.”
She’s embarrassed, Simon realised. Does she regret kissing me already? “Of course I won’t,” he nodded.
“Not a word. About the kiss, the costume, my whole anime fetish. None of it must leave this room. My friends…. They’d disown me. My life would be over.”
“You’d still have friends,” he said.
“Really?”
“You’d have me,” he said, smiling. She smiled back, her eyes lit up, and he thought maybe there was a glimmer of hope for a future together after all.
“I don’t deserve you,” she muttered. Simon didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. “Maybe, one day, I’ll let you see me in the suit, without the helmet. But not today. We still have Physics to get through.”
Reluctantly, Simon forced himself to focus back on the revision. But he knew already that he wasn’t going to be able to get to sleep tonight. He’d be watching Iron Girl videos into the early hours, haunted by her kiss.
CHAPTER THREE
From there, their burgeoning friendship grew. Trust had been established, and with it a certain honesty about their lives up to that point. They had a common frame of reference and could spend many a happy evening and weekend together, studying, or watching Marvel movies on TV. Claire didn’t kiss Simon again, but there was a certain ease in how they behaved in each other’s company. Simon didn’t even notice how much they were together or realise that she couldn’t possibly be seeing anybody else, because she was always spending time with him.
Exams got closer, and as spring started to develop towards summer, it got warmer. And as it got warmer, they both started reaching for summer clothes. Claire’s outfits started getting shorter and skimpier; jeans and T-shirts became knee-length skirts and t-shirts, then shorts and t-shirts, then microskirts and crop-tops. On a particularly hot sunny day, she opened the door to him in the tiniest, lowest-cut crop top and torn-off denim short-shorts, the kind that were basically briefs with the pockets hanging out from underneath and her butt cheeks half on display. It was practically a bikini. Simon had to nearly swallow his tongue to stop it hanging out. She wore a necklace with a green gem enclosed in a gold cage – reminiscent of Dr Strange’s time stone – which nestled perfectly into the top of her cleavage, resting on the fullness of her perfect boobs, which were revealed practically to the nipple by the scoop top. He could see wisps of the lace of her bra tracing under the edge of the neckline.
Oh god, I have to sit down before this boner rips my shorts, Simon thought.
They got to work. Claire pretended not to notice Simon’s discomfort, or the cause of it. But the truth was, she’d chosen her outfit deliberately. Ever since she’d kissed him, she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind. About how kind he’d been to her, about how much they had in common. About how funny and charming and sweet he was. How he was nothing like any other boy she’d ever met. She loved how he’d never made a move on her, although he clearly wanted to, and about how nervous and scared he’d been that first time she came on to him. She’d hoped that, with time, he might loosen up a bit. He just needed to get out of his own way. But he hadn’t, yet, so she’d resolved to hasten that process along a little.
This was a new experience for her. Being turned down… nobody did that. It made her curious, determined… horny as fuck. Either he hadn’t noticed, or had chosen to ignore, her flirting. Either way, she would not be denied. She would have him, eventually. And there was no time like the present. They were closer friends now, so maybe he’d be ready to take things to the next level, if she could help him along. So, she’d picked out the perfect lingerie set, and the skimpiest outfit she had, to show herself off. This outfit was foolproof; it had never failed to get her laid. If this doesn’t get him going, then it was hopeless. She was sure he fancied her; he just needed a little kick.
Simon found it very difficult to concentrate. He was trying to think of ways to explain complex scientific concepts to Claire – she’d come a long way, but the material they needed to cover was really hard stuff. (No, don’t think about things being really hard, that’s not helping). Yet most of his brainpower was lost in a battle between his intent to be gentlemanly, and his lust-crazed lizard brain that kept dragging his eyes back to her boobs. He just didn’t have enough blood to both run his brain and sustain this erection at the same time. The more he thought he was getting away with the sly peeking, the longer the glances became. The way the sweat beaded on her round flesh and slid into the crease between her perfect breasts. The way the necklace nestled in that little triangle at the top, then swung back and forth – along with the globes beneath – when she leant forwards to write. If he angled his head just so, he could see her bra, look right down to where it met her breastbone…
“Simon? Simon!” Claire shouted.
Oh Christ, I’m for it now, he realised.
“I’m waiting. What’s the answer?”
“I… um…” he looked down at the pad, at the revision booklet, desperate to work out what the context of the question was.
“You don’t know what I was asking, do you?” she said, trying to suppress the smile.
“I’m sorry, I guess I was daydreaming…”
“You were staring at my tits, weren’t you.”
“I…”
“I’m not stupid, Simon. I can see your eyes, where they’re looking! I know you’re a man, you can’t help it. But try and focus, okay?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” she said. But as she worked, she made sure to push her boobs together with her arms, to sway a little more than necessary, to lean forwards so her ass rose from the chair to make sure he got a good look at the rear as well. She gave him another five minutes of thinking he was being subtle, then rounded on him again.