LITMIR.BIZ

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he and Boyd might have. Ed squinted up at the sky, his mind rapidly flicking through some pages from … what, Geography? He flipped through his memory banks until he fell upon ‘Constellations’. Ah, yes. A number of them popped into his head, complete with names, historical references and relative chance of visibility. The Late Latin meaning of ‘constellation’ was ‘set with stars’; Ed had always found that kind of romantic. He’d been blessed with a photographic memory of sorts. A valuable tool when it came to passing exams (Ed hoped to sail through his GCSEs). And when it came to impressing girls, a memory like his was invaluable.

      ‘It’s perfect,’ Ed said, meeting Molly’s eyes. ‘The perfect spot for this. You. Me. Us.’

      ‘Oh, you’re good. Really good.’ She laughed but gave him a look he couldn’t fathom. Was she impressed? Did she find him amusing? Did she like him?

      Molly flopped down on the sand and threw her arms above her head. ‘Seriously. I’ll probably fall in love with you if you carry on like that. Won’t be able to help myself.’ She was a bit concerned at the way her heart was racing. He had only looked at her and made a corny comment!

      Don’t be silly, Molly, she told herself sternly. He’s just a boy.

      Ed was transfixed. The way she had thrown herself down like that suggested confidence but there was a softness to her that took the edge off both her mannerisms and her comments. There was no malice present in her tone, just delight and enjoyment at the banter. He found himself staring at her bare legs, at the way they twisted together. It hit him in the groin somewhat, the sensual way her limbs moved and flowed.

      God. Ed frowned. Boyd was right. He was a great big tit.

      Molly lay back and closed her eyes, giving him the chance to continue his study of her. He noted that she wore several silver rings on her fingers – an assortment of slim, decorated bands. Her ears were studded with little sparkly earrings all the way from the lobe to the top, which lent her an air of bohemia. He wondered if she had a tattoo hidden away somewhere, and felt a strong urge to find out. Maybe she didn’t; like him, she was only sixteen, maybe seventeen. Ed lay down next to her, wondering about his next move. She was different. So he needed to be different.

      ‘Aren’t you going to tell me about constellations and stuff?’ Molly asked, turning her head towards his. He was doing an awful lot of staring. She was flattered, but she did worry that he was dissecting her looks too much. She wasn’t a girl who cared overly about her appearance, not like some of her friends. She liked to look good but as soon as she was dressed, she was off and she didn’t spare it another thought. ‘Go on. Tell me about constellations.’

      ‘As if. How naff would that be?’

      Molly laughed. ‘So naff.’

      Ed inhaled. He could smell her perfume and her hair. He felt an irrational urge to bury his face in her neck but he yanked himself back into line. He reminded himself that Molly was simply a girl. And that he knew tons of girls. If this one didn’t like him, he could quite simply – and easily – find another who did. Yes. Except that, even at his young age, he had figured out that some girls were special and that some just weren’t. Damn Molly for being beyond special.

      ‘They are awesome though, aren’t they?’ Molly pointed. One of them might as well get some constellations named. ‘I mean, look at that. That’s Cassiopeia, that is. From the Perseus family.’

      ‘Is it?’ Ed squinted up at the sky, captivated. ‘You’re very knowledgeable about this stuff. Ha. You just told me about constellations.’

      ‘Aah, but I swot up deliberately to impress boys.’

      He propped himself up on one elbow. ‘Are you laughing at me again?’

      ‘Yes.’ She matched his stance, the pose bringing her face close to his. What a beautiful face he had. She found him both fascinating and hellishly attractive. How very dangerous. Molly wasn’t used to being knocked sideways by a boy. So far – and her experience was reasonably limited – she had always been in charge, had always been the one calling the shots. She was a virgin but she wouldn’t dream of telling Ed that. She could tell just by looking at him that he had slept with tons of girls. Which made her feel slightly queasy, but she knew she could hardly judge him for whatever he had done up until now. And boys always did stuff like that.

      Molly wondered why she had gone quiet. She rarely went quiet. She forced herself to say something. ‘I love stargazing. Pretentious though, isn’t it?’

      Ed wasn’t interested in the stars. He was interested in Molly. He studied her. What a heavenly face. Those eyes … slanted, penetrating. A full mouth. Lips he wanted to kiss. Sublime cheekbones, a scar on her chin – a childhood injury? – that prevented her from being conventionally good-looking. Attractive, certainly, but not in an obvious way. Which fascinated him. Molly had a face Ed was suddenly sure he would never tire of looking at.

      ‘So, Ed. What are you going to do with your life?’ Molly bestowed a lovely smile upon him that sent him all over the show. ‘Aspirations, dreams, all that stuff?’

      ‘You’ll laugh at me again.’

      ‘I really won’t. I want to know. Genuinely.’ She moved her bare arm next to his, her hair trailing across his shoulder. He had nice skin. He smelt nice. Basic things, but they were doing less than basic things to various, critical parts of her body.

      Ed wasn’t sure how on earth he was supposed to concentrate with her bare arm leaning against him that way, but he steeled himself. ‘I want to be a writer.’

      ‘Really?’ She was interested now and it showed. ‘What kind?’

      ‘The best kind. Well, in my view. I want to write novels that people talk about. Novels that move people in some way.’

      ‘That’s ace. I love reading. I’m always reading. Well, apart from in the middle of the night, obviously. Although sometimes I am. And my father is … well, he’s an Oxford Don.’

      ‘Is he now?’ Ed played dumb. ‘Now that really is ace.’

      Molly flipped over on to her front, brushing sand from her hands. ‘I imagined you might want to be an actor or something. Looking like that.’

      ‘Like what?’ He turned over as well but moved his head closer to hers. ‘Do you fancy me? Am I handsome?’

      ‘Good grief. You’re so arrogant!’ She shook her head and her curls whipped his face. ‘You’re just really confident. I thought acting might be your bag. Playing on your ego and all that.’

      ‘I’m a man of words,’ Ed stated pompously. God, but he sounded like a wanker. He carried on, regardless. In for a penny and all that. ‘I love words. They’re my life, my passion. I plan to be very successful at it. You’d call it arrogance, I’m sure.’ He grinned. ‘What about you? What’s your passion?’

      ‘Art. I want to be an artist. A great, great artist.’ Molly ducked her head, feeling embarrassed. ‘Now I sound arrogant. But anyway. Uni is the plan. Lincoln,maybe.’

      ‘No way!’ Ed grinned. ‘That’s where I want to go. We could end up at the same uni! Imagine.’

      ‘Gosh. We might have to talk to one another every day.’

      Molly smiled again and Ed felt something expand in his chest. And in his groin. Shit. Could he be any more uncool? He just hoped he was hiding his ardour. Being on his front might start feeling uncomfortable soon.

      ‘Tell me about your art,’ he said, desperately trying to quell his urges.

      Molly hadn’t noticed his ‘urges’. If she had, she might have felt better about what happened later. Instead, she obliged. She waxed lyrical about art for a long time and he managed to join in, despite not knowing an awful lot about the subject. But he liked hearing Molly talk about it – she was passionate, enthused. And that made him want to talk about it as well. After a while, they moved on to novels. They talked about

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