*Riiiing*
The end of the last lesson is announced again, and another day of class is over. This time, Emmie doesn't hurry to drag me out. Even though we ignore the looks that are thrown our way, which are more numerous than yesterday, rumors about us have grown, thickened and proliferated in the classroom, most probably within the greater majority of the chat groups of the school too.
Anyway, today, Emmie has not gone through the same suffering as yesterday. When we went to her place, I helped her with her unfinished homeworks, after she saw my tattoo, and we… let ourselves get carried a little. But we didn't go too far. Even the kind of exercise that would have followed the kissing and touching up would have been enough to sweat, and my tattoo would have been at risk, along with my health. I really don't want any infection starting from it.
So, despite being excited and tempted to go further, to feel Emmie's tongue lapping my dripping hole while sucking at my lips there, I managed to hold back. Just thinking about that again is making the heat rise within me. Even though I have not become dependent on intimacy to hold onto my sanity after everything that happened, I can't say that I don't enjoy it.
I bite my bottom lip, and put my books and notebook away.
"Max, will you be going to check the clubs today?"
I look up at Emmie who has turned to me after putting her bag over her shoulder, and I nod.
"Yes. I will be going to different club activities today to check on them. You have training today, right?"
Emmie smiles and replies as we walk out of the classroom.
"Yes, but only after a club meeting. You will not be choosing your club immediately, will you? With your tattoo that has yet to heal, you will be taking your time, won't you?"
I take hold of the hand she extends toward me and nod. She saw my tattoo yesterday, finally satisfying her curiosity. And knowing its state, it fueled her guess.
"Not only my tattoo, but also my wound. It is healing well, but it still needs some time."
Emmie nods. We walk with the human wave, carving our own world amidst the noise that is for me like a sandwich, with one mental part added. We don't walk all the way outside this time. We take a corridor that leads to another part of the school building. Even though it is not a very privileged school, its facilities are quite complete, and there is a pool, which is indoor, and also Emmie's destination.
We don't take long to reach there, not having to pass by the locker room because there is one exclusive to the swimming pool that will not make her wall through the whole school in a swimsuit. Since I'm not part of the club, I stop outside the door.
"I will be going."
"Hm. Work hard. I want to watch you win at least a competition before we graduate."
Emmie smiles and leans over. The contact between our lips does not last long, nor does it translate into a deep exchange, but it leaves me with a lingering softness, and, on my tongue, another taste that is not mine. And I'm not the only one to enjoy the exchange, because Emmie's thoughts that I don't even need to consciously read transmit her own enjoyment to me.
"See you later."
She waves at me. I smile and pull her back, then plant a kiss on her lips, before letting go.
"See you."
Her smile widens, and she looks back with a suggestive smile in her red eyes before disappearing behind the door of her club's activity room.
My smile grows to take over the rest of my face, then I turn around. I got some looks that simply sweep over me calmly, but some that carry curiosity, inquiry, and in most cases, envy.
I take another path to go visit the clubs I have shortlisted. The school, due to its scale, has many clubs, and also many teams to participate in competitions between schools. I don't deny that the echoes that have troubled me much during the first months after my short coma have influenced me, and among the lingering effects of that, is the appreciation of things that have only recently taken on a feminine hue in the last decades, at least on the bigger stages.
I first go to the volleyball club. I take a seat high in the bleachers, and take out a sandwich, a true one this time, not a metaphorical pollution of ears and mind, and a vacuum flask. I take a sip of the milk that has become my favorite drink since the summer holidays, and moisten my throat before I start eating.
I have come early, but I am not in a hurry. By the time I am down to the last few bites of the snack that will last me the greater part of the afternoon, the meeting that has been happening maybe in the locker room is over. The girls my age are in sleeveless tops and short shorts. But along with them, are also boys clothed to train. The club can't have the same distinction as the teams, and I doubt the resources are enough to build two separate clubs for each gender. I didn't really think about that before, only wanting to join a girls' team, but now that I do, they could have just used different days for different training activities to create a better environment for each team.
But maybe that is what they do, and this time, they are together only because it is the start of the new term for them.
I watch them separate and go to different parts of the court. After downing more than half of the rest of the milk in my canteen, I focus on the training that starts with stretches and other exercises. The atmosphere of the club is not bad, not too strict, and fun enough.
Usually, I would have taken my extracurricular book out to avoid wasting time, but now that Liz has convinced me to live like a teenager who is not running from something or racing against time, I let go relax.
About half an hour later, they are separated into different teams, and they start training their techniques. But it is at that moment that I frown, and my heart starts to plummet with disappointment.