Cold Comfort (8 page)

The lyrics were beautiful. For once I kept
my eyes open because I wanted to see what he did. As I’d hoped he would, his
face swung to mine the moment I began, his eyes raw with emotion. He held my
gaze as I sang about someone who would always protect, always support, always
be there. In the end it was too much, and he stood abruptly and walked away. I
watched as he vanished in the same direction as Clarissa while I sang the last
notes. Again the applause was instantaneous, but Hardy’s reaction had meant
more.

“This is all getting a bit heavy,” Charles
said, with a quick glance in the direction Hardy had taken. I grabbed my water
and took a swig before starting the Carly Rae Jepsen song ‘Call Me Maybe’. It
had been a massive hit recently. Emily had insisted I learn it, although
personally I loathed it, and as the party joined in with the chorus I was glad
I had. No one could ever call it heavy, but given the massive grin on Charles’
face I worried he’d read more into the lyrics than I’d intended. When I
finished he leaned over while the crowd applauded and told me there was no way
he’d be losing my number. I smiled awkwardly and excused myself to go to the
bathroom, slipping off into the house.

When I entered the hallway I could hear
shouting coming from somewhere within the house. It was hard not to listen,
although I felt guilty for doing it, as I stood there in the darkness. Not
guilty enough not to, though.

“I can’t believe you’d humiliate me like this,”
I heard a girl say. It sounded like Clarissa. “Dumping me at a party.”

“I’m not dumping you. We were never that
serious.” I recognised Hardy’s voice and felt my heart beat faster.

“You know you don’t mean it. We’re good
together. You still want me.” The voices stopped, and I could only imagine what
she was doing to persuade him to change his mind.

“Clarissa, I mean it. No.”

“You can’t mean to do this now… here. In
front of all our friends,” I heard Clarissa shriek.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, but
we were always only casual. You knew that – we discussed it. I just can’t
do this anymore. I can’t pretend.”

“It’s her, isn’t it? You want the little
singer. You and Charles are scrapping over her like two dogs over a bone. It’s
pathetic.”

“She has nothing to do with this,” I heard
Hardy say, but it didn’t sound sincere, even to me. The warm glow in my chest blossomed
at the thought he wanted to be with me. It lasted until another voice broke
into my happy thoughts.

“Delilah?” It was Charles.

He stepped through the doorway. “There you
are,” he said with a smile when he saw me. “Hey, are you okay? You look a bit
flushed. Why are you lurking here in the dark?”

“I’m just a bit freaked,” I improvised. “I
got lost looking for the bathroom. It frightened me a bit. Your house is too
big.”

He smiled. “Come on, your fans are asking
for you,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me back outside. I felt bad
about holding his hand after what I’d just heard Hardy say, and pulled away as
soon as I was able, pulling my guitar onto my lap as the excuse for letting go.

I played for another hour, and they seemed
to like it. Alcohol was flowing, and people began to couple off and disappear
until there were only a few of us left around the fire. Emily had been one of
the first to vanish with Jamie.

Hardy had loitered on the edge of the group
when he finally reappeared. I could feel him watching me as I sang, his eyes
burning into me every time Charles reached out to brush my arm or move my hair
from in front of my face. Eventually he turned and walked back into the house.

Charles had been drinking, heavily, judging
by the increasing number of bottles around his feet. His attentions increased,
becoming more and more intrusive until at one point he leaned over and tried to
kiss me, but I pushed him away. “Delilah, you have to know what I think of
you,” he’d slurred. “You’re so fucking beautiful. I want you.” I was
embarrassed by the onslaught as others laughed at his drunken attempts to woo
me.

“You’re a good friend,” I began.

“Ouch, burned!” one of the guys still left said,
laughing. “You’ve been friend-zoned, Taylor.” Charles looked pissed at the
rebuff. I stood up and got myself another drink, pretending the smoke from the
fire meant I needed to sit in another chair, further away from Charles. His face
darkened even more.

When Clarissa reappeared Charles made a big
show of inviting her onto his lap. She grinned like a Cheshire cat, throwing
smug smiles in my direction. I tried hard not to watch them, not that I really
cared. She began whispering in his ear, and I saw him smile at something she
said. It was lopsided, strengthening my suspicion he was drunk, then she
grabbed his hand and tried to pull him from the chair. He shook his head,
reluctant at first as his gaze flickered over towards me, but I quickly looked
away. Shortly after he stood up and pulled Clarissa with him, the pair of them
giggling as they stumbled towards the house. By that point I’d had enough. I
dried up mid-song, giving some excuse about my throat being sore to what
remained of my audience, then packed up my guitar. I knew what they’d think –
that I was jealous – but I really didn’t care that Charles and Clarissa
were together. I’d just had enough of the lot of them. I wanted to go home.

I made my way back into the house and up the
stairs, and then pushed the door to our room open. The sight that greeted me
took a few seconds to comprehend. Then the sounds they were both making gave
them away. I stood there, frozen for a moment as my brain tried to make sense
of the tangle of limbs, feeling both embarrassed to be watching and aroused at
the same time. It took a minute or two, but once my senses had returned, I
quickly closed the door (relieved not to have been seen) and retreated down the
hallway.

Two bedrooms and unknown fornicating
couples later, I was irritated and wondering where the hell I was going to
sleep. I’d decided to find a sofa to sleep on and was about to enter what I
thought was a lounge when I heard laughter and a corresponding groan from
behind the door. Even given what I’d already seen, I wasn’t prepared for what I
found. Heart thumping, I peered around the edge of the door into a dark room,
lit only by candles, where numerous men lounged around the edges. My eyes were
drawn to the figures in the middle of the room; Clarissa was on her knees in
front of Charles, who had hold of her hair while she sucked him off. There was
no doubt from the appreciative sounds she was making that she was enjoying
herself. I’d never imagined myself a prude, but the thought of doing that while
others watched shocked me. It seemed I was in the minority, though, as the
audience murmured appreciatively. Another guy stood up and moved behind
Clarissa, unbuttoning his fly as he went, and I’d had enough. I turned and ran
towards the front door, my guitar bumping my shins in my haste.

“Delilah?” a voice called. It was Hardy.
Of
course, it had to be Hardy
, I thought. “Delilah? What’s wrong? I thought
you’d gone to bed. Why are you leaving? Did someone hurt you?” I paused and
allowed him to catch up with me, knowing he wouldn’t just let the matter drop. “Jesus,
what’s wrong? What did Charles do?” he asked when he drew level with me. He was
so concerned, so sweet, it just made me want to cry.

“It’s nothing,” I began, trying not to sob.
“I need to go home, but I left my phone in my room and Emily’s in there with
someone... There’s nowhere to sleep… I’m being silly…” I trailed off.

“It’s too late to bother your mum,” he
said, reaching for my hand. “Come with me.” He looked around at the empty
hallway, but there was no one to see us. He led me up the stairs, and I
followed him until he opened the door of a large double bedroom. It was
obviously his. I paused at the doorway. “Delilah, come in. You need to tell me
what happened, and you don’t need to do it with an audience,” he said, looking
over my shoulder. A guy was now gawping at us from the bottom of the stairs. I
nodded and followed him in. Once he closed the door he led me over to the bed,
sat me down and poured me a glass of water from a jug on his bedside table. He
handed it to me, and I took a long drink. “Okay,” he said once I was calm, “tell
me what happened.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you,” I
said, trying to stand. “I’m being silly… pathetic, really.”

“Start again, Delilah. I want to know who
upset you.”

“Charles. I saw him with Clarissa… they
were…” I was too embarrassed to say it. “He came on to me, but I said no, so he
made a play for Clarissa.” I wondered if Hardy would be upset about that, but
he didn’t seem at all bothered, so I carried on. “I was trying to find
somewhere to sleep after I found Emily and her ‘friend’ in our room. I heard a
noise in the lounge, but when I went in there they were there. She was on her
knees… there were others watching.” I couldn’t hide the shock in my voice.

“I can imagine,” Hardy growled. “He’s a
fool. A drunk fool. You’re well out of it. You’re too good for him. Seriously,
Delilah, any man you choose to be with better know how lucky he is. There’s no
nice way to say this, and believe me, I love the guy like he’s my brother most
the time, but when Charles gets drunk he behaves like a whore. So does
Clarissa. They have very few boundaries. Frankly they’re made for each other
until they get their shit together. In the meantime they can’t do
relationships. At least not where they don’t continually hurt the person they’re
supposed to be with. They’re toxic, the pair of them. I needed to get away from
her… you just helped me to see it,” he said as he stroked my face.

“They were doing it in public,” I said
again, shocked. “You don’t seem surprised,” I finally realised when he said
nothing.

“That’s the way this crowd rolls. Very few
boundaries. It’s why I didn’t want you near the place, couldn’t stand the
thought of you getting sucked in. I know what Charles is like… he can be very
persuasive. More than one girl’s woken up the next morning regretting what she
let him talk her into the night before. He never oversteps the line… it’s
always consensual… just…”

“Have you…?” I asked, shocked. He looked
away, embarrassed, so I didn’t ask any more.

I was so tired and confused. I allowed Hardy
to pull me against his chest. He smelt good – familiar. Like the bonfire, with
an undertone of manliness.

“I wanted to speak to you earlier,” he
said, his voice rumbling within his chest, “away from the others. Jesus, you
nearly killed me with those songs. Your voice is so fucking incredible now. Even
better than before. I physically hurt when you sang about how hard it’s been
for you growing up. I want to kill the kids who made you feel like that.”

“It’s okay now,” I assured him.

“No, it’s fucking not.” I pulled away and
looked at him, surprised by his anger, his fists clenched by his sides. It was
the only time he’d reminded me of his father.

“Hardy, calm down,” I told him as I reached
a hand out. He stilled. “I’m okay… really,” I assured him again. “It’s getting
better. School is bad for lots of kids. We cope, and then we leave and get on with
the rest of our lives. You aren’t responsible for me.”

“I feel like I am,” he replied, his eyes
searching my face. “I feel like I’m meant to be. I know it sounds mad… I know
you hardly know me, but I want to be. Ever since that summer, despite how young
we both were, I always knew I’d see you again. I knew I’d felt a connection, I
just wasn’t old enough to understand it at the time. But I never, ever forgot
about you. I always planned to come and see you.”

“You were the best friend I’ve ever had,” I
told him.

“I want to be again.” He leaned towards me
and raised a hand to cup my face, his thumb moving to trace my lips. My eyes
closed as a shiver ran through me. “Jesus, Delilah, you’re so perfect. You’re
too good for me… too good for anyone. I wish you were older...” His voice
trailed off.

“I’m old enough,” I assured him, wanting
something without really knowing what.

“Not yet, but soon. When I come for you,
that will be it. You’ll be mine, and we’ll be together. But until then, until I
can come for you, I need you to wait for me. Will you do that?” I hesitated, not
knowing how I was supposed to answer. It was too much too soon. He rushed on,
sensing my hesitation. “I know it’s a lot to ask. I know we haven’t had much
time together. Hell, you hardly know me. But I’ve never wanted anything as much
as I want you. In three years you’ll be nineteen, and I’ll have my degree and
my trust fund. Then we can do what we want, go where we want. He won’t be able
to stop me.” I knew he was talking about his father.
But three years
, I
agonised internally.
So long
. I didn’t know if I could wait that long.

“I don’t know,” I began, “what do you mean
by wait for you?”

“Just don’t fall in love with anyone else. Give
me a chance first.”

I thought about what he’d said, while he
watched me, and finally nodded. Somehow, in my heart, I already knew I didn’t
want anyone else the way I wanted him, and it was hard to imagine I ever would.
Now I’d seen him again I realised that even all those years ago, as an eight-year-old
girl, I’d loved this boy. “Thank you,” he said, releasing a long breath I hadn’t
realised he’d been holding. Then he lowered his head and kissed me. It was my
first proper kiss, and the explosion of sensations took me by surprise. I didn’t
want it to stop… ever.

When he finally pulled away we were both
breathless and I could feel his arousal. He stood up as I watched nervously. Then
he reached towards me. Heart in my mouth, I allowed him to remove my jacket and
pull my dress over my head, so I was left wearing just my knickers and bra. Then
he slipped off his jeans and t-shirt, revealing a sculpted torso that was hard
to look away from. He smiled at me. “Time for sleep, beautiful,” he said,
climbing onto the bed beside me. I was nervous for a moment, wondering if I was
ready for this, but all he did was pull me against him and cover us both with
the duvet before reaching over and turning off the light. “Goodnight, Delilah,”
he whispered.

“Goodnight, Hardy,” I replied, feeling safe
and warm. I rested my head on his chest while he wrapped his arms around me and
held me close. My breathing slowed as I relaxed, and all the while he did
nothing but hold me, stroking my hair, his breath warm as I was swallowed into
sleep.

*

Shouting woke me early the next morning. I
sat up, confused about where I was for a moment, only to find the sleeping form
of Hardy Somerville beside me. He opened one sleepy eye and smiled. ”Morning,
gorgeous.” He grinned. “You look just as beautiful when you wake up. That’s
crazy.” I smiled but didn’t get a chance to respond because at that moment the
door opened with a crash. Hardy was out the bed in a second as a raging Charles
stormed in and bellowed, “You fucking fucker,” as soon as he saw me in Hardy’s
bed.

“What the hell, man?” Hardy replied. “Calm
yourself down.” Charles was right up in Hardy’s face, as Hardy held his hands
up to placate him.

“Did you fuck her? Fuck! You bastard, you
knew I wanted her.” I didn’t know what to do, so I just held the duvet up to my
neck.

“You’re frightening her,” Hardy said as he
glanced back at me. “Calm yourself down.”

Charles’ face twisted in anger. “Nice job,”
he said, doing a slow hand clap. “I have to say, I thought I was a shoo-in to
get there first, but you snuck in under the rope, you little snake. Was she
good? Was she tight? I bet she was amazing.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Hardy said, growing angry
now.

“Oh, she was that good, was she?” Charles laughed.
“I wouldn’t mind a turn…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Hardy swung his
fist straight into Charles’ jaw.