My mother was waiting for me at the kitchen table. I knew she would be there. I didn't need to see her to know here arms would be folded, a look of Billie-I'm-disappointed on her face. I dumped my bag by the door, sniffing the skin on my arms to see if I could smell him there. If she would...

I could smell the sea, the sweat, my Coco Mademoiselle mixed with his Dior. The evidence was there, but maybe I didn't want to hide.

I walked into the living room and into the open-plan kitchen, pushing away the guilt gripping in my chest.

"Nice to see you.."

The words rang out in the kitchen. I knew what they meant. It wasn't nice to see me at all. In fact, it was the opposite.

I looked at her as she leant back against her chair, arms folded.

"I thought you were at the surgery today," I said lightly, rummaging in the cupboard for biscuits I didn't want.

"Not until later..."

Trying to avoid me? No such luck.

I nodded, chewing the end of a dry digestive. She cleared her throat.

"I spoke to Cara's mum this morning. You weren't with her."

I kept my expression blank. Kept chewing. She sighed. Tucked a strand of grey hair behind her ear. She must have been beautiful once. She still was, if I looked at her objectively. And yet I was struck by the feeling that she was never like me. Never hopeful, never curious. Never in the moment.

Was there ever a light in those tired eyes? I didn't know which answer scared me more.

"I know you're seventeen, B, but I worry about you. I want to know you're okay. Your final year of school is coming up. It's important. You need to focus. Don't squander what you have on things that aren't worth it."

"Things that aren't worth it..." I repeated. We had a very different definitions of what that meant.

You don't know me...You gave me life and yet you don't know me. How can that be?

She sighed and rubbed her nose, reaching for her coffee. She was tired. I was tired.

Just give up. Let me go.

I was beckoned by the thought of my bed and the opportunity to relive the day between its sheets. I wanted to hear his words again. Feel him next to me. I could only do it alone. Only if I concentrated. Soon, the words would fade. His touch would fade. Time was running out.

Just let me go.

"I don't know how to say this..."

Let me go...

"I'm trying not to interfere, but I am your mother...."

Let me go...

She frowned, a battle seeming to rage in her head.

"I know you're your own person and you make your own decisions."

Let me go.

"But sometimes what you think you want at seventeen isn't quite right. Isn't quite what you need."

"Oh, let me go, Mum."

I flinched, surprised to hear the words out loud. She flinched too, casting her eyes to the table. They fell on a ring left by a cup of tea and she sighed again.

"I always tell you and your sister to use a coaster..."

"You don't need to worry about me." Worry about yourself.

She looked at me, picking up on my undertones.

"I know." Her eyes surveyed for a moment, looking at me as if she were seeing me for the first time. "Just.. don't shut me out, alright?"

"Alright."

She nodded and stared into her coffee cup. It was over. Minimum parenting complete.

I left the room without another word.

In my bedroom, I forgot. I forgot about my mother and her concerns. Forgot about the undercurrents of unease we felt around each other. I forgot about everything except him. I wallowed in my smugness. I let it in, feeling my phone vibrate next to me and knowing it was him. That he was mine as much as I was his. I was intoxicated with no intention of slowing down. It didn't matter what anyone thought. Didn't matter what they said. The dotted line was signed. No backing out, for better or worse.

In classic Billie style, I thought about all the ways I could lose him. He could get bored or meet someone else. He could prove to be as disappointing as my friends assumed him to be. Or it could end because of me. The Great Fear that lurked inside, currently wrapped in chains and muzzled. The fear that made me think things like, I'm terrified they're going to leave me so I'll push them away.

I didn't want that to happen. I didn't want to doubt him. So far, I'd believed every word he said. I'd let him etch himself into me, seeing the marks as art and not scars. Trusting him. Seeing my feelings reflected in his eyes.

But then there were his parents...

There was something in that. Something dark and unexplained. Why the look on his face when he realised they were coming home? What were they going to say? Would they stop him from going out? Lock him away for the all-important Family Time? Well, I would wait for him. Nothing was going to stop me.

I knew I was walking a dangerous line. He was young and beautiful. Most likely, he would destroy me.

But for reasons I couldn't explain, I wanted to bet against the odds.

This could be the exception. If ever there was an exception...

Still, I walked blindly towards him, laying myself at his feet and crossing my fingers.

I pictured him as a boy, brown hair blowing in the sea breeze, knees drawn to his chest, salt spray on his face, and the sun on his back. Eyes on the horizon. He'd told me he used to wait for his dad on the coast. Watched every ship. Never gave up, even when none of them came.

I wouldn't hold myself back. This summer was a fruit waiting to be picked, blushing with experience, its promises ripe.

I was going to take it. Put it in my mouth and savour the taste.

I fell asleep with my fingers crossed, floating in a cloud.

If not this, then what? If this isn't it, then what is? If this isn't it, then do I want 'it' anyway?

If not him, who? If not now, when?

Let me go...

Let me go and I'll drift to him. I'll find my way. Let me go and I'll never be lost again.

Let me go and never let go.

Never let go.

Never...