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Lia wasn’t old enough to remember the wall being built and until recently, she’d never even been near it. Standing twenty feet tall and stretching hundreds of miles along the border, it separated the two countries perfectly.

Khaki-uniformed soldiers patrolled at thirty feet intervals, sweating under the weight of heavy guns. It must have been a lonely job, Lia thought, standing alone in the hot sun all day. Soldiers. So many of them. And so young, some even younger than her. The futility of conflict made her despair. The soldiers, their country; they could all be so much more but for the endless war.

The wall. The physical representation of division and distrust. Sometimes Lia would press her hands flat against it, feeling the cool concrete-rendered bricks under her palms. She wondered how strong it really was. If her entire country put their weight against it, would it crumble? She liked to believe it would. She turned and leaned against the solid weight of it, blowing out a long breath. A soldier came towards her.

“You okay, miss?”

He held his gun loosely in his hands. She wasn’t remotely afraid of him. He was on the right side of the wall. She wondered just how differently she’d feel if he’d come from the other side.

“Yes, thank you,” she said and moved on.

Sometimes she wished the soldiers weren’t there and she could be alone but then again, she’d found places they didn’t go. Like where the wall was built through a wood. They’d cut down trees to accommodate it, forging a crude path through nature, but twenty years later and branches had grown to entangle defiantly over the barbed wire. The soldiers didn’t patrol near the wood. And it was shaded. Cool. Tree stumps to sit on. Lengths of ivy wove across the wall, weakening it in their endless search for sustenance. The cement was cracked, pieces in rubble on the floor. If nature were left alone, it would eat the wall whole and the defiant power of the earth filled Lia with relief.

She looked up through dark tree branches at the clear blue sky. The same sky. The same sky on this side of the wall and that side of the wall and the same sky over the entire world. The tree branches were wound together. She thought recklessly of climbing up and using them to make it over into the forbidden land. And then what? She’d be in their country. Their precious country. The place too good for people like her. Maybe she’d be arrested. Maybe she’d be killed. Maybe nobody would notice and she could pretend to be one of them and see what they thought was so special about themselves.

She leaned against a tree trunk and exhaled. It was almost tempting. The branches over the wall wove together so tight that they almost formed a bridge. But the barbed wire was barbaric. Sharp and unforgiving. And the drop was immense. Lia exhaled.

“Fuck.”

It was the only appropriate word and she said it again, louder this time.

“Fuck.”

The word had barely dropped when she heard a sound. A branch cracking. She looked around, jittery all of a sudden. Nothing. She looked up, expecting to see a bird. Nothing. Plastic bags and feathers were caught in the razor wire. They fluttered gently in the breeze. She frowned.

“Hello?” Her voice was clear. She squared her shoulders a little. “Is someone there?”

She listened hard, paced in an anxious circle and then stopped, afraid someone was watching her. Then she heard it; a man clearing his throat. Her head whipped left, then right. Nothing.

“I can hear you, you know,” she said, impatiently. She wondered if it might be Junior, the guy from work. But then someone answered and she didn’t recognise the voice.

“I can hear you too.”

The voice seemed too quiet and yet it felt so close. It took her a full thirty seconds to realise it came from the other side of the wall. Her first emotion was anger. Everyone on that side was an enemy by association. How dare he disturb her? He was just as selfish as his government. She wondered what to say. Part of her felt ludicrously surprised that he spoke the same language. She’d always expected them to be more foreign somehow. A shared language seemed strikingly contrary to division.

“Are you a soldier?” she asked finally and hoped there was enough disgust in her tone to shame him.

He didn’t answer for a while and she wondered if he’d even heard. Then again, maybe he was ignoring her. That would make sense. Her father had long said that their country was made up of rude, ignorant excuses of humans.

“No. I just come here to get out of the sun. The soldiers don’t come this far.”

“They don’t on this side either,” Lia said without thinking and then felt enormously guilty for having told such a thing to the enemy. But he had a nice voice. Deep and warm. She leaned against the wall, her mind racing. She was predisposed to hate him but then again, shouldn’t he have hated her too? Maybe he did. Or maybe he didn’t.

“I’m Troy,” he said.

Troy. For some reason, Lia wanted to associate the name with deceit; there was something, some childhood story that she wanted to remember and use against this stranger but there was no hint of deceit in his voice and before she could help herself, her own name was tumbling from her mouth.

“I’m Lia.”

She regretted it instantly, telling herself she should have given him a fake name but by then he was talking again and she had to push aside the guilt to concentrate.

“That’s a real nice name,” he said. “I never heard it before. Are you a soldier?”

Lia almost laughed.

“No. Girls don’t have to conscript. I work on a farm. And I’m a student.”

“You are?” He sounded amazed. “You have colleges over there?”

His surprise angered her. Ingrained superiority. Typical.

“Yeah, you didn’t manage to blow them all up yet,” she snapped.

There was a pause.

“It wasn’t me personally,” Troy finally said. “But I’m sorry anyway.” He let out a long breath. “Really.”

The apology was unexpected. It didn’t change anything but it was soft enough to take the edge off Lia’s anger.

“It’s not your fault,” she said only because he sounded sincere. She felt inclined to reassure him but wasn’t sure why. Why should she even give him the time of day?

“I have to go home,” she said abruptly and maybe she expected him to protest because she didn’t start walking.

“Maybe we could talk again,” he said. “Do you come here often?”

“Sometimes,” Lia said evasively. “I don’t know.”

“You know there’s a crack in the wall? You can almost see through it.”

Lia scanned the endless white before her.

“Where?”

“It’s low. Like knee height.”

Lia hesitated. Curiosity. Crouching down, she felt across the cool wall, pulling away sprawling ivy until her fingers uncovered a jagged crack.

“I think I found it,” Her voice was hushed.

“So look through.” Troy urged.

She moved towards it, unable to find the right angle until she lay flat on her stomach and looked directly through the small hole.

And he was there. They looked at each other, two eyes watching unblinkingly, drinking desperately like one sliver of each other could ever be enough. He had a beautiful eye. The rest of him could quite easily be hideous but that one eye was enough. A perfect blue, sparkling like an endless ocean of opportunity. Lia blinked, the ends of her long, dark eyelashes flickering lightly against the wall.

“You’re beautiful,” Troy said and she was glad he couldn’t see her face flushing at the compliment. Beautiful. Nobody ever had time for such words. How could she ever be beautiful? Just another dispensable human. Nothing important. Not changing the world. Peach stained hands and an old t-shirt. The ground dug into her grazed elbows. Every part of her body protested the position but she didn’t want to move. She felt like she could look at him forever.

“I wish I could touch you,” he said and the drop in his voice made her stomach hurt. She pressed her legs together hard.

A stranger. The enemy. And yet his voice made her shirt stick to her back.

“Where would you touch me?” The question spilled out, the floodgates released by the reassurance of anonymity.

“Everywhere. Every inch of you.”

She knew how he felt. The aching urge for warm human contact. She felt an irrational urge to hold him. This man. From the wrong side of the wall. She swallowed hard.

“What are we doing?” she asked, finally. “This is crazy.”

Troy didn’t blink.

“Is it? We’re two people talking. Is that so crazy, Lia?”

The way he said her name made her want to touch him even more.

“I really have to go,” she said, but she didn’t move and they ended up talking for hours.

*

She got home early enough. Her dad was still working his long shift at the factory and she hurried through dinner preparations, wanting things to be ready before he arrived. He came home late. They sat opposite each other at the table to eat. The small television delivered an endless reel of news. More bombs. More security checks. More death. Lia looked at her father’s worn face. He wasn’t old but age was a mere number; too basic to ever explain everything he’d been through.

“Do you think it’ll ever end?” she asked.

He glanced up at her. They didn’t usually talk about the war. It seemed everything to be said had already been said and the times when he’d try to reassure her were long gone. She was old enough to find her own comfort now.

“They’re bastards,” he said eventually. “That whole fucking country is full of soulless bastards.”

And of course it made sense. Because collectively they must have been. Why else would the bullets and the bombs keep coming? The government represented its people; their president had won by a landslide the last summer. People wanted him. They wanted him to keep doing what he was doing. And it didn’t end. There was no peace. Men seemed too stupid to settle for peace. History repeated itself like everyone was blind to everything that happened before. Pride before lives. One wall falls, another rises. Greed and anger and distrust.

“They can’t all be bad,” Lia said. She thought of Troy. “I mean, maybe the older ones are, but not the younger ones.”

“Kids turn into their parents,” her father said. “Sure, we all have our own souls but you grow up seeing your parents stealing and killing and that’s what you learn to do. And maybe some are strong enough not to but what’s one voice in a crowd?” He reached across for her plate and made to stand up but failed. Nobody but Lia would ever have noticed. It made her want to cry. He gripped the edge of the table hard, hauling himself up and she averted her gaze, not wanting him to notice her notice. He seemed to get worse every week. It had been two years since the doctor had recommended a hip replacement but Lia still hadn’t managed to save up enough money. Her father had been dragging himself through life with painkillers and a cane for months now.

“Anyway, how was your day?” he asked and she wondered whether he knew that she’d tell him it was fine even if it had been awful.

“Same as ever,” Lia thought about the textbooks she hadn’t bought and hoped he wouldn’t mention them. Studying seemed like too much of an expense, not to mention too much effort, especially since the constant unrest meant the college kept changing her schedule of classes.

“They treating you okay at work?” he asked. “I saw Junior on my way home.”

Junior was her boss. Or rather her boss’s son.

“You did?” The words came out more wary than she’d have liked.

“Yeah,” He rinsed their chipped dishes under a trickle of water. “He said you two are going out Saturday.”

Lia’s hands curled into fists under the table. Her fingernails dug hard into her palms.

“That’s not true. He asked. I didn’t say I would.” Her voice rose indignantly. “I was only being polite.”

Her father laughed. It sounded painfully nice, maybe because it only happened so occasionally.

“You should. He’s a nice boy. Good family. Nice manners, too.”

He turned and looked at her. She looked at him. Junior. Sugar on the outside but rotting on the inside. He knew how to play people. But she saw past the games. She knew the way wages had remained stagnant since he’d taken over from his father, even as food prices inflated. She knew he liked the easy way, the profit way, the way he used enough pesticides to make her head spin. And more than all that, she knew the way he looked at her, the way he spoke, the way he seemed to think he could unlock her like he did with so many other girls. She knew him. Money over morality.

“So are you going to go?” Her father sat back down. “I told him to bring you home early.”

Lia shrugged. “I don’t know yet,” she said and she didn’t. Because as much as she hated Junior, there was a power in his wanting her. Money. She wished it didn’t matter but it did. For months, she’d been saving every possible penny to put towards her father’s operation but the total still fell short by a few thousand. It felt like her father was slipping into old age right in front of her and yet his years didn’t warrant it. She couldn’t hold onto him tight enough.

Everything was too expensive and prices kept rising as bombs kept falling. Junior had money. And Junior liked the chase. The more she rejected him, the higher his estimation of her became. It would be easy to get what she wanted out of him, if only she could deal with his expectations. Maybe one date wouldn’t be so bad. No sex. Lia sighed. Trying to figure out how to maneuver it made her head hurt.

Her father spoke. “Sometimes, we spend so long searching for more that we end up wishing we’d have settled for what was before us. Junior seems nice. You should think about it.”

Lia didn’t want to think about it. But it made sense. Too much sense. She had choices in life. Decisions to make. She couldn’t be selfish. She had to be practical. And her father’s body was falling apart and he’d given her everything he could possibly give and she still keep taking. Maybe it was time to stop.

*

Troy didn’t agree. She didn’t know quite how she’d decided it was sensible to spill her innermost secrets into the ear of someone she’d never even seen but there was something comforting about the anonymity. He didn’t know her enough to judge her. He was new, and he understood.

They were just humans, after all, Lia figured. It was comforting to have someone to talk to. Everyone was always too uptight to talk. All her friends had faded away and in the orchards, the workers were far too intent on their tasks to waste energy on small talk. It was an escape to disappear into the cool woods after a long day of fruit picking and to hear the easy seep of Troy’s voice.

“Maybe I could give you the money for your dad’s operation,” he suggested, late on Friday afternoon. Lia was sitting with her back against the wall as they talked, their voices filtering through the cracks.

“That’s ridiculous,” Lia said.

“As ridiculous as having to fuck a guy for it?”

She laughed, thrown by his crude question.

“That’s – not what’s going to happen.”

She thought briefly of Junior. She couldn’t bear even the thought of him touching her.

“But either way, you don’t want to see him,” Troy pressed. “So don’t. This would be so much easier, wouldn’t it?”

Lia leaned harder against the wall. If she focused hard enough, she almost believed she could pass right through it.

“No. How can you just give me money?”

“Why can’t I? It’s just paper. And the thought of you having to play nice with this guy just kills me. You deserve more.”

Lia’s laugh was more of a sigh.

“You don’t even know me. Everything I am. Everything I’ve done.”

“I know who you are right now. Isn’t that all that matters?” His voice dipped. “You have no idea how much I think of you, Lia.”

His words made everything inside her feel tight. An ant crawled over her bare leg and she watched it silently.

“What do you think about?” she asked.

“You really wanna know?” Troy’s voice leaned on the brink of recklessness.

“Please.”

He exhaled. “It’s hard to describe, I guess. Trying to create a body out of a voice. Mostly I just think of how you smell and how your voice would feel right next to my ear and then – well, you shouldn’t know the rest.”

“I smell like sweat,” Lia offered. “Sweat and dust and pesticides, mostly.”

He laughed and she laughed and it was the kind of unwarranted laughter that made more laughter and even when they were done, her mouth still kept lifting until she bit her lip hard. She thought of the perfect blue of his eye and longed to touch him, to feel his warm skin and his hands on her. She couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone so much.

Lia sighed. She tipped her head back. A ray of sun fell across her face.

“We should dig out a tunnel or something,” she said wistfully. “Then we could see each other for real.”

“The foundations are too deep,” Troy said. “Besides, I could just climb over.”

Lia frowned. “It’s really too dangerous.”

“But it’d kinda be worth the risk,” he said, and she looked up at the vicious tangles of razor wire and hoped he wasn’t serious.

He left before she did and she sat with her back against the wall, high on the thrill of their conversation. Everything he ever said seemed to fit with what she thought, forming an endless, sprawling jigsaw of perfection. She wanted to know more, to fill in gaps, to learn and discover everything she could.

She pushed her hand impatiently past the waistband of her shorts and touched her smooth snatch. She was desperately wet. How could just a voice do this to her? Her head leaned back and her eyes closed, hips pushing forward as she stroked herself recklessly. Nobody had ever made her feel so wanted. And her body responded. She felt sweat trickle down the back of her neck.

The sun filtered through the trees, seeping into her skin. She reached her free hand under her shirt and felt the firm curve of her breast in her hand. Her nipple hardened under her insistent touch and she tugged at it until it became almost unbearably sensitive. She shifted, legs parting further as her hand moved beneath the stiff material of her shorts. It almost hurt to touch herself but she didn’t stop. She bit hard on her lip, her finger massaging the swollen bud of her clit until she felt like she’d overheat.

“God.”

She sucked in air. Her hand was covered in her own wetness and her underwear was soaked. Her fingers kept slipping out of position and she focused harder, legs splayed wide. If anyone had happened to walk past, they’d have known exactly what she was doing. But nobody did. She leaned harder against the wall, her chest pushed out and her sweat-soaked shirt clinging to the curves of her breasts. Troy. His voice. His words.

Her ass was barely touching the ground. She moaned in frustration, desperate for release. Her fingers slicked harder, one pushing into the tight grip of her pussy. She could only imagine how Troy’s fingers would feel. The idea of being touched by him, of him doing exactly what he wanted to her was almost too much to bear. She didn’t even know what he looked like but she could imagine the weight of his body, the insistence of his fingers, the feel of his mouth.

“Fuck.”

Her body shuddered long and hard as the orgasm swept hard through her. It felt as though it went through every inch of her body, easing and stretching out every fibre of her being. She held onto it for as long as possible, clinging onto the wave until the world came back. And then there was nothing but real life, sunlight dissolving her fantasy and replacing it with her all too real problems.

*

She wondered whether she was in love with Troy. It seemed like an easy way to fall in love. Strangers didn’t have pasts. Restless, she’d lie awake at night, looking up at the dark ceiling and replaying their conversations in her head. It was nice to talk. It was nice for someone to pay her attention and make her feel so special. Maybe that’s all it was. Attention. But there’d been boys before and she’d never felt anything more than the physical. With Troy, it was as though her entire being ached for him. The urge to touch him, to see him, was almost unbearable.

She’d begun to race through her shifts at the farm; picking fruit so fast it became a blur. She couldn’t remember anything about her days, about the other workers, the weight she’d picked. All she knew was that she wanted to take the route behind the school, down the dirt track, past the abandoned garage, the severed rail track and into the cool retreat of the woods. Everything began to revolve around meeting up with Troy.

Saturday was pay day though and as fast as she tried to move, Junior slowed her down. He came over with her wages as she was washing up.

“So,” he said. “You wanna go out tonight?”

Lia tried to look sorry.

“I can’t. I have a load of studying to do.”

He looked at her. He smiled like she was attempting to play a game he’d mastered.

“Okay. Maybe next time.”

Lia wondered if she was making a mistake. She thought of her father. She thought of Troy. A voice. A fantasy that might never materialise. The distance between them was insurmountable. And Junior hadn’t ever been cruel to her. Sure, he chased money but men could change couldn’t they? She almost reconsidered his offer but when she looked at him, his eyes weren’t quick enough to dart away from her breasts. She felt more like an object in front of him than she ever had before.

He cleared his throat.

“One of the guys from inside is leaving,” he said. “You want to switch?”

Lia frowned.

“I’m sorry?”

“Inside,” He jerked his thumb towards the farmhouse where fruit was weighed. “You won’t have to be in the sun all day.”

The smart answer was yes. But the smart answer meant having to spend more time with Junior and even now she almost believed there was a procession of ants marching over her, such was his skill at making her skin crawl.

“No, thank you,” she said.

“You don’t want a promotion?” Junior frowned. “You’d get paid more.”

He watched her wash her hands and face, following the drops of water splashing onto her t-shirt. She wondered how he could stand the heat. The gold chain around his neck must have been branding his skin.

“I don’t need more money,” she said. She caught the hem of her shirt, meaning to pull it up to dry her face but the hunger in his eyes halted her. She ran a hand down her face instead, swiping off the water. Strands of damp hair stuck to her forehead until the warm breeze liberated them.

Junior looked at her, the envelope still in his hand. He tapped it against his knuckles.

“You sure? How’s your dad doing?”

Lia didn’t look at him.

“He’s good.”

“Good.”

The silence lingered. She looked at him finally. Tall. His shoulders were too broad, his arms too muscular to look natural. He didn’t tan well. He burnt easily. The smell of his aftershave made her head hurt more than the pesticides ever had. His eyes dropped to her breasts and lingered momentarily, then ran down the length of her tanned legs. He swallowed hard.

“Okay,” He finally held out the money. “See you tomorrow.”

*

Lia got home and shoved the contents of the envelope into the wooden box in her room. It wasn’t enough. She wondered if it ever would be. She wasted a few minutes looking down at the neat bundles of bank notes before slamming the box shut hard enough to startle herself. She pushed it under her bed.

Briefly, she considered changing her clothes before going out to the woods but figured it was pointless since Troy didn’t see her anyway. Nobody else’s attention seemed to matter anymore. She went outside and locked the door behind her. It was late afternoon and she wondered whether she should have gone straight from the farm. Maybe Troy thought she wasn’t coming. Maybe he’d left already. She walked fast, keeping to the shadows. What would she do if he wasn’t there? Walk back home? Or kill time like she used to?

But when she got to the place they always talked, someone was there. She stopped short. No uniform. Not a soldier. He sat exactly where she would sit. She stared long enough for him to feel it and he looked up. Blue eyes. Troy’s eyes. Lia hardly dared to believe it.

“Hey,” he said. It was his voice. He stood up a little hesitantly like he didn’t know how she’d react. He was maybe a couple of inches taller than her, his shoulders broad in a worn t-shirt. His hair was sun-bleached, his skin tanned like warm sand. His arms were reddened and scratched and there was a rip in his shirt. She looked from him to the bridge of tree branches and the wire spanning the top of the wall.

“You climbed over?” She didn’t know how to feel. “That’s – why would you do that?”

He shrugged. He smiled a smile that made her desperate to touch him. She stepped forward uncertainly, closing the distance between them.

“I wanted to give you something,” he said, and he went in the pocket of his jeans but she caught his arm, still unable to believe he was standing in front of her. He looked at her and before she knew what she was doing, she reached up to kiss him. His lips were warm and his tongue urged into her mouth, his hands dropping to her waist and pulling her hard against him. She felt heavily conscious of the way her tits pressed against the muscle of his chest. She felt almost naked. Two layers of clothing. His shirt. Her shirt. He kissed her harder and her hands went to his shoulders, pulling him closer.

“You look just like I imagined,” he said, finally. “Only more somehow.”

She’d never figured out a face for him but if she had, it would have been his. It matched everything she knew. She kissed him again, her hands bunching into fists full of the damp cotton of his shirt. His hands skimmed beneath the hem of her top and gripped her waist hard, like he could get something out of touching her body. They stumbled back until they were pressed against the wall, the cement cool against Lia’s back as his hands went higher to find her breasts. He groaned into her mouth, hands groping her firm flesh until she had to push him away to suck in air.

“You’re just – everything,” he said. He was still touching her breasts, her shirt bunched up as his thumbs brushed her hard nipples.

She didn’t ever want to stop looking at him.

“So are you,” she said. “But more.”

“More than everything?” he asked and she could have laughed but all she really wanted to do was feel him.

She kissed him again, and his hands dropped to her ass, pulling her hard against him. He smelled like sweat and earth and yet there was something clean and pure about it, like he wasn’t hiding behind anything. His leg was between hers, pressing hard against her pussy and it took all of her self control to not grind against it. But even its presence was enough. It had been more than a year since anyone had touched her like Troy was doing and all the squirming insecurities seemed to be consumed by her need for him. She hadn’t ever wanted anyone as much.

She could feel the unmistakable press of his cock against her hip and she reached down blindly to feel it through his jeans, her hand pressing desperately between their bodies. He looked at her, his eyes going over her face like he couldn’t get enough. Her eyes. Her cheekbones. Her mouth. He looked at it almost sadly like it was something he couldn’t have and then he kissed her again, his body pressing harder against hers as she stroked his cock through the denim of his jeans.

He let go of her ass and his hand came around frantically, pushing against the flat of her stomach and trying to find its way into her shorts. He couldn’t. He pulled back to see what he was doing and Lia watched him. Her breath came out desperately, like she’d just run herself flat out. She could hear the heated beat of her heart, the pump of her blood around her body. She felt impossibly alive; so full of life it could have overflowed and drowned her. Nobody else was around. It was just him. His body against hers and the trees and the impenetrable wall against her back.

“You’re so beautiful,” Troy said and she wanted to protest but maybe in his eyes she was so she said nothing and instead, reached down to undo the button on her shorts. She slid the zip down and his hand slipped inside. It felt so different. So new and unfamiliar.

His fingers pushed past her underwear until they were against her naked snatch. Skin on skin. His touch was warm, insistent. His forefinger pushed further, finding her pussy and easing inside as his thumb pressed against the throbbing bud of her clit. Lia’s mouth opened. She pushed her forehead against his shoulder and gasped as his thumb moved while his finger forged deeper into the tight grip of her pussy.

She didn’t want him to stop. She didn’t want to move. She just wanted to feel it. His finger pulled back, drawing out of her and she grasped at his arms, nails digging in. His forefinger paused at the very entrance of her wet pussy and then pushed back inside accompanied by his middle finger. Lia’s face pressed harder into his shoulder as his fingers moved in and out, his thumb keeping a constant pressure against her clit.

She felt like she could lose herself in him; forget everything that had ever happened before and only ever be conscious of his hands and his hard muscle and his breath against her ear. It would be a beautiful place to disappear into. His fingers pumped harder and his thumb moved in a languorous circle. Lia felt like her entire body was throbbing. He didn’t stop touching her that way until she shivered hard against him, her shirt damp with sweat as she came around his invading fingers. The rush ran through her as she gasped his name out but even as the flow ebbed, the ache in her stomach didn’t retreat.

She reached for him, hands searching out the opening of his jeans until he took over. She pushed her shorts and underwear down reaching to untangle them from her shoes. It felt inordinately reckless to be there, out in daylight with this man from the wrong side of the wall. She didn’t even want to think about being caught. Birds flitted overhead in the trees, calling to one another. Lia looked up at him. He touched her face, felt the pulse at her neck. He shifted, pushing her against the wall. She knew he’d taken his cock out and she reached down to the hand he held it in. Heat. Everything was heat.

“Are you sure?” His voice was an ache of control. “Because – we don’t have to. Not if you don’t want it.”

Heat. Lia shook her head.

“I want to. So bad.”

His body was pure male. It seemed like he’d been cut out differently; every muscle felt harder and more defined. She could have looked at him forever without tiring. He kissed her until she was gasping and then he trailed his mouth down the warm, tanned skin of her neck, his lips pressing hard against her pulse. Lia’s hand was still on his, her fingers searching around his to trace the heat of his cock.

His hand fit against the curve of her ass, gripping it hard as he let go of his cock to press it between her legs. He didn’t push in right away but ground there, hot and hard against the wet mess of her pussy. He grasped the other side of her ass, lifting her slightly against the wall. He looked at her like no one had ever looked at her before and if it hadn’t been for his cock, she might’ve told him to look away. As it was, she didn’t say anything. His cock was pushing slickly against her and she pushed back, her mouth open.

They looked at each other and after everything they’d ever said, there was nothing more to say. It felt like their bodies were speaking all on their own. A language of shifting, grinding movement.

He sank inside her finally, the head of his cock pushing desperately until the tip stroked inside. It felt like the first taste of something she could get addicted to. She pushed back even as it hurt, wanting him deeper and deeper. His hands were tight on her ass, his face set in concentration. He held his breath the whole time he was easing inside her and only let it out when the length of his cock had fit to her grasping channel.

He kissed her even though they were both breathless and she kissed him back, arms winding around his neck as his cock withdrew. His hands moved, holding onto her hips instead and pressing her firmly against the concrete of the wall as he pushed back in hard. Each thrust hurt in the best way and the harder she pushed back at him, the harder he went, the rhythm urgent and possessive.

“I could just,” He spoke the words into her mouth and she wondered if she was even hearing him or whether her lips were somehow reading his.

“Just what?” she whispered.

“Just – do this forever.”

It was everything. His cock fit her sublimely and the pleasure hummed through her like an ache of perfect music. Then he shifted and the world seemed to shift too. His cock pumped in and out faster, his teeth clenched as he fucked her like their bodies could create something more than feelings. Lia tried to push back at him but he was too strong and the urgent thrust of his cock had begun to send rippling waves of heat through every inch of her.

She grasped at him, pulling him ever closer until her body shuddered, trapped between him and the wall. She came harder than she thought possible, the orgasm dizzying and endless. Her body was drenched in sweat, her t-shirt conforming to the firm curves of her breasts. Troy looked down at her and then he shoved his cock harder and came too, pulsing and jerking repeatedly inside her clenching pussy. He groaned her name into her neck, his hands still holding her tight as they ground against each other, drawing out every last flicker of pleasure.

For a while afterwards, neither of them moved. She let go of him gently and he took a moment to release her and straighten up. Lia bent to retrieve her shorts and he watched her tug them on. A cat ambled by and stopped short on seeing them, surprised by their presence. They looked at each other and shared the faintest of smiles.

“You should go back,” Lia said reluctantly. “People might miss you.”

“Yeah,” Troy straightened out his clothes. The silence stretched between them, full of all the things that felt too obvious to say.

“I had to give you something,” he said unexpectedly. “I mean, that’s really why I came over.”

He went into the pocket of his jeans and extracted a tightly rolled wad of cash. Lia frowned.

“Troy, you can’t. That’s crazy.”

He looked at her.

“Let me do this one thing for you. For your family. Please.”

She sighed. The hair at the back of her neck was damp and she ran her fingers through it.

“I don’t need it, okay? Besides, your currency is no good over here. They don’t accept it.”

“I know.” He took off the top note and unfolded it. “So I got it changed to yours.”

Lia stared.

“Wasn’t that difficult? It’s practically impossible over here.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty hard,” Troy said. “And it’s useless to me now. It’d take a lot of effort to change it back and I could get into serious trouble. You really just have to take it, Lia.”

They looked at each other. He took her hand, put the heavy bundle of money in her palm and closed her fingers around it.

“I have to go back,” he said. “Tomorrow?”

*

The receptionist at the doctor’s surgery transferred her to the city general hospital. Lia sat at the kitchen table, twining the phone cord around her fingers, listening to the scratchy hold music and hoping the line wouldn’t cut off. It didn’t. The woman who finally picked up sounded very brusque when Lia was done explaining.

“The waiting list is usually at least six months but we’ve had a cancellation and if it’s convenient, we could arrange the operation for next Friday.”

“Friday?” Lia sat up straight, hardly daring to believe her luck. “Like, in a week?”

“Yes. Friday. Usually we’d take a deposit first but since it’s at such short notice, we’d expect the total to be paid upfront. So long as there’s no complications, you’ll be covered. Can you make arrangements to pay?”

Lia looked at the money she’d accumulated over the last two years. The money Troy had given her pushed it over the finish line. Maybe the landlord would get mad and maybe they’d live without power for a week but it was enough. It was finally enough.

“Yes,” she said and the relief made her want to cry. “Definitely.”

*

Everything seemed to fall flawlessly into place. Her father’s operation went without a glitch and within a month, he’d abandoned his cane. Soon enough he moved as easily as she did. It felt as though time almost rewound, back to a place where everything was a little easier. A little more comfortable.

“Are you ever going to tell me where you got the money?” he asked one night.

Lia examined her fingernails.

“I told you. I saved it up.”

“Uh-huh.”

They looked at each other and he shook his head but he was smiling.

“Was it Junior?”

Lia snorted.

“No. Like I’d ever ask him for anything.”

Surprisingly, Junior still hadn’t given up on her. The seasons had changed; peaches were over but the sun still shone down as rows of sweating workers picked endless pears and pomegranates. Junior was softer now, apparently confused at her constant rejection.

“C’mon, Lia,” he’d cajole. “One date. We’ll go wherever you want. Where do you wanna go?”

The only place she ever wanted to go was to the woods. She’d plan out afternoons with Troy, whole days even when they could spend idyllic hours together. Their hunger for one another never seemed to dissipate. They’d lie on the ground afterwards, staring up at the trees and talking about their lives, ways to figure them out and get together. He was more than Junior could ever be.

Junior. She didn't hate him so much anymore. She almost pitied him.

“You're always in such a rush to leave,” he often said. “You got a boyfriend or something?”

“I just have stuff to do,” she always replied and she didn't look at him enough to see the way his eyes narrowed. She should have looked. She should have been kinder. She should have given him something or at least pretended to have been interested in him. But she was too high on Troy. Too distracted to be rational. Too deep in the thrill to step back and see everything Junior was capable of.

She felt it, but not enough. Just a little. The faintest thought, the kind of vague uncertainty she’d get when she wasn’t sure she’d locked the front door. The feeling of unwanted company. It was there, on the very edge of her consciousness, flickering faintly like the very tip of a butterfly’s wing. She always took the same route to the woods. Behind the school, down the dirt track, past the abandoned garage, across the severed rail track. Too often. Too many days. Too many flickers of company. Too many darting shadows to ever make out if someone was nearby. The complacency of love. She didn’t see. She blinked without thought and then one day she blinked and opened her eyes to see that everything was over.

The trees next to the wall had been cut back viciously, brutally distanced from those on the other side. Raw stumps were damp with sap, trickling like tears. Lia walked towards them numbly. A tractor was parked nearby and workmen pushed heavy branches through a deafening wood chipper. A soldier patrolled the area now, sweating hard. He nodded at Lia when he saw her.

“Good afternoon, miss.”

She tried to smile at him but the closer she went to the wall, the harder her heart thumped. The cracks had been cemented over crudely. Sunlight fell everywhere, unhindered by trees. There was nothing left of the place she’d known with Troy. No shadows. She felt as though she ought to tell him, but how? She had no way of contacting him. Her thoughts spun, her mind unable to focus, her stomach churning with anxiety.

The spiralling realisation of her loss felt like it would crush her. She’d never see him again; never even speak to him again. She didn’t know anything but the memory of him. It seemed implausible that they could be separated so easily. But the wall stood bleak and immovable, coldly serving its purpose. Troy was in his country and she was in hers.

She never saw him again.