Yours Truly (35 page)

“
Man alive! These peas are dead cold aren’t they?
”
I say in an uncanny impression of a complete idiot.

“
I think you’re lovely,
”
he says, so quietly that I’m not sure if I imagine it.

Is he on glue? I probably still pong of alcohol, am bundled up in a flowery blanket and no doubt have major panda eyes from the mascara
I know
I won’t have removed. Perhaps he's concussed from the thwack on his cheek.

I laugh, nervously. But stop after one high pitched chuckle. Because Riley doesn’t seem to find it funny at all.

I look at him anxiously, not sure what else to do. And then, all of a sudden, his lips are on my lips.

Zing!

The bag of peas drops onto the table with a crackly thud as Riley cups hold of my face. His kisses become more urgent.

I press my hands to his chest, kissing back eagerly.

This is delicious.

This is different.

This is not at all like Olly.

Shit. Olly!

I jump back as if I’ve been burned, my cheeks flushed, my whole body tingling.

We stare at each other, assessing, examining, our eyes narrowed. Riley is breathing fast, but doesn’t say anything. It’s like he knows that I’m weighing this situation up.

I mean, I have a fiancé. Oh wait. No. I don’t. He dumped me.

So...
technically I’m allowed to kiss someone. It can be a rebound thing.

But, no. Riley has a girlfriend. I don’t like her one bit but that doesn’t matter. It’s such bad form to kiss somebody else’s boyfriend. Totally unacceptable.

“
Riley...
”
I say.

“
We broke up,
”
he returns firmly, his voice hoarse. His pupils have dilated so much that they make his eyes look completely black.

“
When did -
”
I start but don’t get chance to finish because his lips are on mine again. And it feels so amazing, so right, and I’m still drunk and I no longer have a fiancé, and Riley had a fight, and Mum hates me, and I’ve been hypnotised, and have bad hair, and this really does feel exquisite. Like little sparks of lightning hitting each and every one of my erogenous zones.

Riley stands up from the table and pushes me up against the door, his colossal body pressing against mine. I run my hands up through his hair, which feels cold and soft between my fingers. The duvet falls away, puddling down onto the floor and leaving me naked apart from Meg’s scrap of white chiffon.

I don’t care, though. I don’t feel self
-
consciou
s. It’s impossible to feel self-
conscious when the only thing I care about right now is how brilliant
this
feels.

We sink down onto the duvet and when Riley takes off his shirt - revealing a gorgeously built torso with a very testosteroney spattering of hair - and starts to kiss my throat, I can think of nothing else.

I’m a goner.

Forty minutes later we lie on the kitchen floor breathless and dazed. Riley doesn’t ask me how it was for me. It would be impossible for him not to know that something incredible has just happened to both of us.

“
We fit,
”
he says, lilting his voice up at the end like he’s surprised. He pulls me to him and I nestle in under his huge arm, still trying to catch my breath.

I keep quiet, not trusting myself to speak coherently, but I know exactly what he means.

He kisses the tip of my ear before untangling himself from the blankets and standing up.

“
I’m just going to…
”

He trails off. It’s obvious that he’s going to the bathroom, but it doesn’t seem right to say it out loud. Such a plebeian notion after something so amazing.
“
I’ll be back in a second,
”
he grins.

I smile and wave him away, wrapping the duvet snugly around me while he pulls on his boxers and leaves the room.

It only takes a few seconds of being on my own before the endorphins start to ebb and the guilt begins to flow.

What have I just done?

I have just had sex with someone I barely know. Amazing, exciting, lusty, best ever sex. And I’ve not even been split up with Olly for a day.

I attempt to justify it by telling myself that I’m incredibly confused right now, that I’ve been through a lot and am not entirely responsible for my actions, I’m not fully sober.

But I know that’s a lie. I knew what I was doing. I couldn’t stop it but I knew exactly what I was doing. Funny how I can’t lie to anyone else, but I can lie to myself so easily.

It’s only rebound sex, anyways. Everyone is allowed rebound sex...

Riley comes back into the room carrying a long navy, combed fleece dressing gown, which he hands to me. I take it gratefully and put it on.

“
Are you hungry?
”
he asks, opening the fridge door.

“
Ravenous.
”

“
What do you fancy?
”

You
.

I think about it. What would I like most in the world right now?

“
Mashed potatoes.
”

He laughs.
“
That’s specific.
”

I shrug, embarrassed.
“
That’s kind of what I came in here for. I was dreaming about mashed potato.
”

Shouldn’t we be feeling guiltier than this?

Riley pulls on the rest of his clothes and looks out of the window at the snow.

“
I’ll just nip to the greenhouse for spuds,
”
he says.

“
Okay. Um, I’ll boil some water.
”

“
Great.
”

Okay this is awkward again now. We’ve just been doing very rude stuff together and now we’re talking about potatoes. SO weird.

Once Riley leaves I tighten the belt on the dressing gown and get up to find
a pan. I find a fab orange Le C
rueset in one of the cupboards, and put some water on to boil.

When he returns we peel and chop potatoes in silence, then put them on to cook.

After too long of not speaking, I bite the bullet and ask.

“
Honey
-
”

“
It’s over,
”
he says at once, like he knew I was going to ask.
“
It’s been on the cards for a while. I told her at the barn dance.
”

So he's only just split up with her. In fact it's probably just a fight. They could easily get back together.

I tell him that once the snow clears I’ll be leaving. He is undeterred.

“
I’ve never felt anything like that,
”
he murmurs.
“
I don’t want you to go.
”

“
I have to go. We don’t really know each other. My life…
”

I trail off.

He looks me in the eye and my tummy flips again at how easy it is to drink him in. The way his face is put together, the exact positioning of his features is so very attractive to me.

“
I can’t force you to do anything,
”
he says.
“
But surely it’s impossible to experience what we just did when you’re supposed to be in love with someone else.
”

I think about Olly and how much I love him. Regardless of how amazing Riley is.

“
I think you’re wrong,
”
I say firmly.
“
It’s just sex.
”

But even as I say it, I know that it’s not true. This is something more than sex. But it’s new and confusing and really badly timed. It shouldn’t have happened at all, but it did.

Riley comes closer, an indiscernible flicker in his eyes.

“
Was that just sex?
”
He asks the question brazenly, cocky.

“
No,
”
I answer at once, the treacherous truth-telling doing its work.
“
No. It wasn’t.
”

He nods, satisfied.

“
Would you like to do it again, Miss Butterworth?
”
he asks, this time a mischievous grin lighting up his face.

Oh my God. The fizz is strong and I answer clearly.

“
Yes please.
”

He dives on me again, lifting me up onto the kitchen table as if I weighed nothing, undoing the dressing gown, biting my bottom lip.

My body responds like I’m under a spell, the protests from my brain fading with every kiss.

I’m an actual hussy.

Behind us the potatoes bubble over and start to burn. Neither of us cares.

TEXT FROM MUM:

Have you or Olly cancelled arrangements yet? I refuse to do it. It's time you grew up, love.

I’ve had sex with someone else. I’ve had sex with someone who isn’t Olly. I’ve had sex with a stranger. These are my first thoughts when I wake up. And while my head is clear in terms of hangover, it’s not so clear in term of, you know, life.

After Riley and I did IT again last night, we made some more food and agreed it would be best to go back to our own beds. Despite the fact that what we have done is clearly wrong I can’t help but feel excited. I feel a bit like a child who’s just discovered popping candy for the first time
-
it’s incomprehensible, and pretty brilliant, but if you eat it before your dinner it’ll make you feel sick.

I check outside the window to see if the snow has eased off any. It’s still falling but a lot lighter than yesterday, and the sky doesn’t look quite as leaden. In fact the sun might even come out to say hello. And then the snow will melt. And then I’ll be able to go home.

Home to Manchester.

Jumping into a hot shower I push away that thought. I wash my hair and concentrate on pushing all thoughts of Olly out of my head. But it’s impossible. In the sober light of day I no longer feel the sense of abandon I had last night. As I pour out the conditioner, I get loads of flashbacks to memories of me and Olly.

The day we met in Chutney’s. How gorgeous I thought he was.

The time he asked me to be his official girlfriend after he’d taken me to my first ever boxercise class.

Proposing to me at the vegan restaurant, his eyes shining with excitement and love.

Remembering this particular memory hurts the most and I sink down onto the floor of the shower cubicle, rest my head against the tiles and have myself a little cry.

When the soap suds on my head are beginning to itch I stop crying and rinse them out. I must pull myself together.

I clip my hair away from my face because I’ll be cooking today. Before I left for my own room, Riley pointed out that I’d be backing out of my promise if I didn’t help him with the me
nu. And so I said I’d help him -
and if there’s one thing that will make me feel better
-
it’s cooking.

In the pub I discover Meg and Dionne already having breakfast. They’re scoffing omelettes and chatting away as if they don’t hate each other. It’s very disconcerting.

When they see me walking over they startle a little. I reach the table they start talking about nail polish - to be specific, their favourite colours of nail polish. If I didn’t know any better I’d say they had been
talking about me.

“
Hiya,
”
I say looking curiously at each of them and taking a seat.

“
Hi!
”
they both say extra brightly.

“
I was just saying to Meg, how awesome it looks when yo
u paint your nails white. Like T
i
p
p-ex but not s
kanky, because it’s really nail
polish!
”

“
It’s very interesting,
”
Meg says with barely contained enthusiasm.

This is weird. Are they
getting on?

“
What’s happening?
”
I ask, pouring myself a cup of tea from the pot.

“
Nothing!
”
They say, looking most suspicious.
“
Nothing at all!
”