Chapter 26
‘What a beautiful Argentine tango.’
My words have the desired effect. Mark looks at me sharply and sits up.
Theo is smiling indulgently at Tig, looking none the wiser.
‘My round,’ announces Mark, standing. ‘Nella, will you give me a hand?’
‘I’ll help you, mate,’ says Theo. But Mark ignores him and waits for me to stand.
Mark’s basically issued me an order, but we need to discuss our tango problem, so I get up without grumbling.
We take everyone’s requests – Pimm’s being the popular choice – and set off for the drinks tent, Theo eyeing us as we leave.
‘Why’s he so suspicious?’ I ask, as we fall into step.
‘Why do you think?’
I frown. ‘He knows about the tango snafu?’
He looks at me like I’ve said something baffling, but doesn’t contradict me.
‘I’m sorry about your mum,’ I say, after we’ve taken a few steps in silence. ‘Is she okay?’
He drags a hand through his hair. ‘Yeah, a nurse spotted the issue before any real harm was done. I might have overreacted. Guilt over the fact I’ll be on the other side of the Atlantic in a couple of weeks.’
‘I didn’t think Greek mum guilt worked on you.’
‘Why? Because I’m only half Greek?’
He sounds defensive and, too late I realise my oblique criticism has hit an altogether different nerve.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean …’ I try a friendlier tone. ‘You’re the Greekest person I know.’
‘How so?’ he asks cautiously.
‘Well, unlike the rest of us, you’ve lived in Cyprus.’
‘The army doesn’t count.’
‘Of course it does. I bet you picked up enough Greek swear words to embarrass a sailor.’
‘Do I need to teach you some?’
His tone makes me overly aware of how hot his arm is as it bumps against mine as we walk. I discreetly shift, and try to think of something to say because answering his question feels perilous.
‘So, the Argentine tango,’ he says, beating me to it.
‘What a nightmare,’ I reply, relieved to be on safer ground.
‘We’re going to have to start Theo’s lessons from scratch,’ he says. ‘And I’m so tired of that bloody song. It’s in my head all the time – at work, in the gym, in the shower.’
In the silence after the word ‘shower’, Dream Mark cuts in.
Do you want me, Nella? Do you want me deep inside you?
I flinch because, just like that, the film of the two of us going at it like animals in the shower replays in excruciating detail.
And my brain has decided this is the moment to furnish me with the director’s cut, packed with shiny new scenes. My legs wrapped around his waist as he slams me up against the wall; the exquisite filth he pours in my ear: I know how you need to be fucked. My breathless sobs: Oh, God, yes.
Jesus. Get a grip. He’s standing right bloody here.
He’s still talking, but I’ve missed a good portion of what he’s been saying.
‘… is very different, but the video should help at least.’
‘The video?’ I ask unsurely.
He’s looking at me intently, some might even say knowingly. But he can’t know. Obviously.
Except my nipples are granite.
‘The clip, the reel, whatever it’s called. I can’t keep up with all the terminology.’
I’ve lucked out that he thinks I’m pulling him up because he’s not using the correct lingo.
‘Right, right,’ I add, nodding to emphasise I’m present in the here and now. And not stuck in my head, being expertly railed.
‘We can use the same choreography, and he’ll be able to watch it and practise by himself,’ he finishes.
‘There’s a lot of “we” in your calculations.’
‘Oh, come on, how’s he going to learn the lifts without you? He’ll pop a disc trying to lift me.’
The image of Theo trying to hoist Mark into the air replaces the earlier indecent one.
‘Fine, I’ll help,’ I concede. ‘I can’t have my sister’s husband waiting at the altar with a back brace.’
He pulls out his phone. ‘Stick your number in there and send yourself a text so you have mine.’
I put in my contact details and when I pass it back to him, he shakes his head.
‘You didn’t have to add your last name.’
‘I don’t know how many Nellas you’ve had.’
‘How many Nellas I’ve had?’
I cringe at my phrasing. ‘How many Nellas you have. In your contacts.’ I try again. ‘How many you know.’
‘Plenty, but according to the Gospel of Nella, I don’t hang around long enough to get their numbers.’
He almost manages to sound playful, but a note of exasperation comes through loud and clear.
‘At school you were allergic to anything longer than a one-night stand.’
He nods slowly. ‘And you don’t believe I’ve changed? Do you also think I still drink my body weight in Desperados every Friday night?’
He’s right – I’m being unfair, but I don’t know how to retreat elegantly. ‘I haven’t given your drinking habits much thought.’
‘Just my sex life you’ve thought about long and hard?’
He draws out the last three words, and his mouth softens. Is he enjoying goading me?
He has no idea how graphic my thoughts have been. And I’m seized by the urge to tell him, just to see the shock on his face.
‘I had a confusing dream about you.’
His eyes narrow. ‘Confusing how?’
He rubs a knuckle against his bottom lip, and I can’t tear my gaze away from his mouth.
‘We should get to the bar,’ I mumble, regretting my impulsive confession.
I dart into the drinks tent to put some distance between me and Mark’s fleshy bottom lip.
I slide into a gap at the bar but Mark is quick to follow, and a moment later I hear his low voice behind me.
‘You didn’t answer my question.’
He’s standing very close, but no part of him is touching me – unlike the guy next to me whose thigh keeps rubbing against mine. And not accidentally.
‘You were speaking Japanese,’ I tell Mark over my shoulder. ‘That’s all.’
Another stroke against my leg from the creepy guy next to me. Mark must see it because he leans in and puts a territorial hand on the bar, and, as if by magic, creepy guy removes himself from my personal space. Funny that.
‘I can see how that would be confusing,’ says Mark, close to my ear. ‘But I suspect I was doing something that didn’t require words.’
I shiver. He’s so close I can barely breathe. Half an hour ago he was all sleepy and vulnerable, but if I turn round now, the look in his eye would be lethal.
If he could just take half a step back, my brain would start working again. I lean forward on the bar, but all that does is push out my rear end.
Surprisingly, this does make him take a step back.
I clutch at the first unsexy activity I can think of. ‘You were playing golf dressed as Batman – and not the cool Batman from the movies. The naff version from Only Fools and Horses.’ The image of middle-aged men in ill-fitting Lycra helps cool my overheated mind.
‘Chicken.’
My breath hitches, and my heart knocks.
He’s called me chicken once before. He was standing dangerously close to me that time, too.
The barman is waiting for my order, but I’m too flustered to speak.
Mark steps in. ‘Two pitchers of Pimm’s, a bottle of Mythos and …?’
It takes me a second to realise they’re waiting for me to answer.
‘An orange juice, please.’ I keep my eyes straight ahead.
Someone calls my name, and we both turn to find Yan waving at us and miming drinking.
‘Another beer, please,’ says Mark to the barman.
He takes a step back, judging that standing so close to me might not be a great look in front of Yan.
I take the opportunity to whip out my debit card and press it against the card reader even though Mark’s got his ready in his hand.
When Yan joins us, he takes the pitchers off Mark, leaving me to carry the tray with the beers and juice. Yan walks between us so I don’t have to talk to Mark, which gives my breathing a chance to get back to normal.
Just before we reach the group, Mark stops to pull out his phone. ‘I need to talk to the nursing home.’
He takes his bottled beer from my tray. ‘Arigato,’ he murmurs, his voice like silk.
Yan’s too busy dispensing drinks to notice my flushed cheeks.
Mark wanders off to make his call, and I rejoin the others.
Stav and Julie have arrived, looking remarkably sober and, in Stav’s case, decidedly grumpy.
‘How come you guys are back early?’ I ask. ‘Did they run out of wine?’
Julie is trying not to laugh, but Stav looks like he wants to murder someone.
‘Yeah, so my intel was wrong,’ he says. ‘There was no free booze. There was just a boring old guy wanging on about the history of the Andreou Family winery. For ninety minutes.’
‘You couldn’t leave early?’
Julie giggles. ‘Stav insisted we sit in the centre of the front row. So it was too awkward to move.’
‘You poor thing, Stav.’ I have a hunch I know what’s happened, though.
‘This inside info … it didn’t come from Yan, did it?’
Yan, who’s heard all of this, is bent double from laughing.
‘You bastard!’ says Stav. ‘And on the way there, I was telling Julie how I wanted to buy you a few nice bottles for your birthday. Or even do a joint party like we used to when we were kids.’
‘I think I can throw a decent party without you,’ retorts Yan.
Tig grins. ‘Yan’s parties were legendary. It’s where I had my first spliff.’
Yan looks around, anxious. ‘Jesus, Tig, Mum and Dad are here somewhere. You can’t go around broadcasting stuff like that.’
‘And Nella had the best make-out session of her life at your nineteenth.’ She grins at me. ‘Right, Nell?’
‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,’ I reply, holding myself very still.
‘I don’t know that story,’ says Pen.
‘Well—’ Tig begins.
‘Leave it,’ I snap.
She huffs. ‘I’m not implying you were a slag or anything. It was with Leo.’
In my peripheral vision, I see Mark returning. He freezes when he hears his brother’s name.
Tig carries on regardless. ‘I was too young at the time, but Yan told me he caught you creeping out of the garage floating on air because Leo had just rocked your world.’
Oh, shit.
The sour taste of acid fills my mouth.
My pulse races, but I’m helpless to do anything.
Only one other person knows what happened in those heated minutes. And unfortunately, he’s right here.
The boy I kissed in the garage that night wasn’t Leo.
It was Mark.