The Happy Hour

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

They bought a bottle of cheap Prosecco at the nearest Tesco Express, and waited ten minutes for Jess’s favourite Italian restaurant to cook them a pizza with black olives and chargrilled peppers, gooey melting slabs of mozzarella, and the aroma of fresh oregano wafting off it.

‘We’re really doing this, then?’ Ash carried the pizza box in one hand, and held onto Jess with the other as they walked towards her flat.

‘We’ve kissed down by the river, in an alleyway, on several roads, next to some bins, in amongst Felicity’s clutter when she’s been in another room and then, tonight, in the doorway of a famous historic house. Before I met you, I struggled to hug my best friend in public.’

‘Clearly I’m irresistible,’ he said, and she gave him a look that made his smile falter. ‘How far to your flat?’

‘Here we are.’ Jess gestured to the nondescript black door, then dug in her bag for her keys. She opened it and led the way up the narrow stairway to the first floor. ‘Terence?’ she called.

‘Oh great, I get to meet your pet,’ Ash said into her ear, and she giggled, remembering when she’d told Ash about him, how satisfied she’d been that he was clearly jealous.

‘Hey,’ Terence called, the sound of tennis balls being hit back and forth coming from the TV. ‘I thought you were on your hot date!’

‘Fuck’s sake,’ Jess muttered. She could feel Ash’s shoulders shake with laughter. ‘Here’s my hot date,’ she said, because what could she do but brazen it out?

Terence turned his head, looking over the back of the sofa. ‘Hey, man. I’m Terence.’

‘Ash.’ He put the pizza box on the kitchen counter and went to greet him. Terence shook his hand, and they stared at each other for a cringe-worthy moment. ‘Good to meet you.’

‘Ditto. There’s beer in the fridge, and you can come and watch the tennis if you like? It’s some random celebrity tournament, not as good as Wimbledon, but it’s better than what’s on the other channels.’

‘We’re fine,’ Jess said. ‘Thanks, though.’ Watching tennis, squashed between Ash and her flatmate on the sofa, was not how she wanted this to go.

She got two wine glasses from the cupboard – not proper flutes, but they would have to do – a couple of plates and some kitchen towel.

‘This way,’ she said, leading Ash down the corridor. She felt like a student taking him to her room, with its fairy lights and her Etsy workstation – still tidy, despite the increased orders – but the evening hadn’t gone as planned, and this was better than all the other options she could think of.

She stepped inside and took a deep breath. He followed her in, then closed the door gently behind him and leaned against it. She watched him take it all in: the bed and the trinkets, the colourful lights and the fluffy cushions; everything about it so much softer than she was.

‘This is great,’ he said. ‘And obviously, I love the hat.’ He gestured to the raspberry cap hanging on her bedpost. He’d been so funny that day, taking her on his ridiculous film tour. Now, everything was different. He was nervous, clearly – as nervous as she was – and she relished seeing another side of him.

‘Someone pretty important bought it for me,’ she replied, as she cleared a space on her desk for the plates and glasses. Ash followed with the Prosecco and the pizza. ‘This is my sanctuary,’ she told him. ‘Terence is a nice guy, and we watch films together sometimes, but—’

‘Everyone needs their own space,’ Ash finished. He stepped towards her.

‘Exactly.’ Her throat had gone dry.

Ash took another step. ‘Only so much comfort an alleyway can offer.’

‘That doorway was a bit sparse, too. But I have some really fluffy cushions.’ She gestured at the bed, and watched him swallow, falter, even though the tension between them was thick. She was surprised her fairy lights hadn’t blown, or at the very least started flickering.

‘Ash?’ she said.

‘Yes?’

‘The pizza will be good cold, the Prosecco will be OK warm, and I would like you to come here, right now, so I can put my hands all over you. If you’re not a fan of yeti cushions, even luminous pink ones, then—’

He stepped forwards and kissed her, sliding his arms around her back and then lower, cupping her bum, lifting her carefully off her feet and walking them backwards. He put her gently on the bed, then stood between her legs. Jess undid his shirt buttons, silently marvelling at how dexterous she could be while still kissing him, as if this was a romcom and she was a seductress, when really the only reason she was managing it was that she was so desperate to feel his warm skin against hers, to see all of him.

‘I love yeti cushions,’ Ash murmured into her shoulder, as he gathered the skirt of her dress and pulled it up her thighs. She leaned back on her elbows and lifted, so he could slide it up her torso, then over her head, until she was only in her underwear. He took her in, lips parted, his pupils dilated. ‘If you look at my search history, it’s 80 per cent yeti cushions.’

‘Twenty per cent the ghosts of Greenwich,’ she said, then gasped as he kissed her neck, laughing into it. The sound made heat pool low in her stomach.

‘Can we not talk about that?’

‘It was great, all of this is great.’ She was breathless now, because she’d dragged his shirt off his shoulders, and when he sat back on the bed she saw that he was strong and toned, a smattering of dark hair over his chest, two moles on his collarbone that were usually hidden.

His gaze clouded. ‘Not allof it.’

‘Shush.’ She sat up and pulled him towards her, then found his belt buckle, slipped her fingers in to undo it. ‘We’re not talking about it.’

‘Thank you,’ he murmured, and she almost combusted when he reached up to undo the clasp of her bra, the pads of his fingers trailing along the sensitive skin of her back.

‘Save your gratitude.’ She snagged his gaze, held onto it while he slid her bra down her arms and then off. ‘You’re going to have a whole lot more to thank me for soon.’

She saw the desire spark in his eyes, and then he was helping her tug down his jeans, and settling his body over hers, her yeti pillows cushioning them, his skin smooth and hot and so delicious pressed against her own.

‘You’re so beautiful, Jess,’ he whispered, as he kissed her neck, her collarbone, and then lower, squeezing her breast with just the right amount of pressure. ‘Is this OK?’

She swallowed, trying not to gasp. ‘It’s a good start,’ she managed, as his lips brushed softly over her nipple. She could feel how hard he was, and she wanted to whimper, to make some high, uncontrolled noise at how perfect he was, the pleasure of every sensation, and so she let herself. She stopped trying not to gasp or moan or arch her back, and when he asked her what she liked, she told him, letting her words guide him to everywhere she wanted him. She did the same for him, until she was coaxing low moans from his throat that only made her more needy, made her want him more.

She let go of her worries that she wasn’t enough, her concerns that he wasn’t giving her all of him, and let her need for Ash overrule everything else. He kissed her and stroked her, reverent and hungry all at once, and she gave into her desire to see and touch all the parts of him she hadn’t had access to before tonight.

Each tingle was deeper and brighter than the last, until she was nothing but sensation. She bared all of herself to him, and Ash gasped against her neck, her lips, kissing her with a desperation that he hadn’t shown her before. It felt natural, and right, and more than she’d imagined it could be. She wondered how she’d ever thought of Ash as temporary, a fleeting Sunday distraction, when he’d so quickly, so thoroughly, become one of the most important people in her life.