Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
“And that’s a wrap, folks,” Phyllida calls.
Outside the classroom, a bell sounds, and there’s an immediate outbreak of chatter in the room as the students grab for their phones like they’ve been parted from them for forty years.
Phyllida rolls her eyes at me. She’s a beautiful woman with long, grey hair coiled into a bun, but it’s her wry expression I love most.
“Put your work on my desk and off you go.” She makes a shooing motion with her hands towards her students, as if guiding a flock of sheep, and walks over to me. “Thanks, Georgie.”
“No worries.” I stand up and shrug into my long kimono, the silk caressing my naked body. Feeling eyes on me, I look over and see one of the students staring as he walks by. I shoot him a wink and then wince as he promptly walks into a desk. “Oh dear. Are you alright?” I call.
“Y-yes, fine. Thanks.”
Waving him off, I turn to find Phyllida observing me with a wry look on her face. “Like Circe in a dressing gown,” she observes.
“I bet Circe never had pins and needles from being contorted into the strange positions you favour for this art class.” Reaching into my bag, I grab my briefs and jeans and then slide into them quickly.
“You’re in a rush.” She picks up the pillows on the chaise lounge and plumps them. “Going anywhere nice?”
Sitting on the step of the dais, I wriggle my feet into my Converse. “I’m meeting someone.”
She smirks. “Very international man of mystery.”
“I couldn’t manage to be a mystery man even in this room. You know I can’t keep a secret. Especially from you.”
“So, what are you up to?”
“Simon is getting married.”
She blinks at the change of subject. “Simon? Your ex?”
“That’s the one.”
“You went out for a long time, didn’t you?”
“We went out when we were at sixth form college together. We lasted two years, but they were more like dog years, which was appropriate if you knew Simon. He was always humping something. Anyway, I got a wedding invite last week.”
“You never did…” She pauses. “Didn’t he cheat on you?”
“Which time are we talking about?”
“Ouch.”
I wave a hand. “Water under a very ancient bridge.”
“Still, it’s strange to invite you. So, I gather you said no to him?”
I stare at her. “Of course not.”
“Oh dear. I have an ominous feeling about this.”
“Why?”
“Well, you’ve been my life model for five years, and the one thing I know about you is that you and trouble have more than a passing acquaintanceship.”
I put a hand to my forehead dramatically. “What a dreadful thing to say.”
She gives me a wry smile. “And truthful. Luckily, the fairies gifted you with charm, or I don’t know how you’d have got out of some of your scrapes.”
“Anyway, I’m meeting a bloke in half an hour. He’s going to the wedding with me.”
She brightens. “Ooh! Is this a new man?”
“Well, he’s certainly new.”
“Who is he?”
“His name is Nigel, and he’s single and a top.”
“And… Do you know anything more about this Nigel?”
“Nope. I advertised for him, so that’s all I’ve got at the moment. Well, that and a rather blurry photo. He’s a redhead. Either that, or the camera’s flash was malfunctioning.”
“You advertised for him?”
“Yep. I put an advert in the Heart2Heart app for a plus one at a wedding, and he applied. I actually had a lot more requirements in my advert, but I’ll see about that when I meet him. And being a top is still vital information.”
“Why on earth are you advertising? You know loads of men.”
“I know them in the biblical sense, and I have to say, Phyllida, that being an animal between the sheets is not always a sign of good behaviour out of them. I need a fake boyfriend who remembers my name for longer than five seconds.”
She smirks. “I’ve been married to Leo for forty years, darling, and last week he forgot me at the supermarket and drove home.”
I pull on my sweatshirt and then reach over to grab the pouch that holds my nail varnishes. Being a life model can be boring, and if there’s no one to talk to, I usually take the time to do my nails. I look approvingly at the current shade of plum—Damson Jam.
“But why go to all this trouble?” she asks.
“Because I want to show Simon how brilliantly I’m getting on without him, of course. I was very careful in the way I worded that advert. I want someone different from my usual hookups. I want someone who Simon would know I’d be serious about.”
She hesitates. “Why do you need to do that? Do you still have feelings for him?”
“Bloody hell, no.” She relaxes, and I stare at her. “Were you worried?”
“Of course I was. I sort of think of you as one of my children, Georgie.”
“Good grief, I hope not. My mother won’t share me, and you’re terribly bossy.”
She snorts. “True. And I’m always right. Or at least that’s what I tell them. Are you sure you don’t have feelings for Simon? Two years is the longest relationship you’ve ever had.”
“It’s the only relationship I’ve had. Since him, I’ve mainly had hookups.” I pause, trying to marshal my thoughts. “He always thought he was better than me,” I finally say.
“I very much doubt he was right.”
I smile at her, touched. “That’s a very nice thing to say.”
“And also true. You’re quick-witted, charming, and a very sweet young man.”
“Well, Simon didn’t see it that way. His family had a lot of money, and he’s a handsome man, as long as you overlook his personality.
He always acted as if he were on a pedestal and intent on dragging me up to join him.
Like I was unworthy of him, otherwise. And I went along with that for a while because he dazzled me, and then he didn’t do that anymore. ”
I think of the man I’d once been in love with. The man who’d been the real reason for why I’d settled for going out with Simon. Turns out that unrequited love can really impact your life. I’m not going to tell her that, though. He’s my secret.
“Anyway, to cut a long story short, Simon was going places, and, in the end, he decided that I shouldn’t go along with him.” I shrug. “I want to show him that I’m fine without him, so the last memory of him that I have isn’t him looking at me pityingly.”
“Well, I pity him if he lost you.”
“You’re my friend. You have to say that.”
“True, but as your friend, I’d also say I would very much like you to find someone who will appreciate you for who you are. Not what they can make of you.”
I sling my bag over my shoulder and lean in to kiss her cheek. “Maybe one day. I’m not looking for love, though.”
“Ah, Georgie, that’s usually when it finds you.”
Outside, the streets are packed, and the smell of car exhaust is strong.
I stride through the crowd, hearing a dozen languages being spoken.
Car horns sound, and I have a sudden image of green fields that seem to stretch towards the horizon and the sound of a man’s laughter.
The yearning to be in those lovely green fields is so powerful that it makes my breath stop.
And then it’s gone, and I’m moving on like usual.
The cafe I chose is located near the sixth-form college where Phyllida teaches.
I edge inside, inhaling the aromas of good coffee brewing and something sweet and sugary.
After ordering a hot chocolate with whipped cream, I look around the cafe, hoping to see my pretend boyfriend.
Movement catches my eye, and I watch as a man stands up from a table at the back of the cafe and waves.
I return the wave and make a drink motion, but he shakes his head.
Taking my chocolate, I move towards my potential date, checking him out as I go.
Hmm, not bad. He’s tall because I specified someone who could tower over me.
I have a fondness for that dynamic, and Simon knows it.
Simon also knows the bloke who inspired my preference, but I take perverse pleasure in the fact that Simon has no idea he was the source of my inspiration.
As I approach the table, I note that my potential pretend boyfriend indeed has red hair and that his face is nice. Maybe this can actually work.
There’s a sudden clatter at my feet, and I look down to see a fork and spoon have landed an inch from my toes.
I cast a startled glance at the man sitting at the nearby table.
He ducks his head and quickly leans down to pick up the cutlery.
“I’m so sorry,” he says in a deep voice.
His accent stirs something in my chest, like a pleasant echo from my past.
I’m about to tell him he’s quite all right and perhaps ask if I know him from somewhere, but he’s already got up in search of clean cutlery at the front of the cafe, dashing away as if embarrassed. Do I know him? There’s something about the way he moves…
My potential date snags my attention. “Georgie? It is Georgie, isn’t it?”
“Nigel?” I inquire, putting on a smile.
“That’s me. In the flesh.”
He leans in and hugs me. He smells of vanilla, which has never been a favourite of mine, but his hug is strong. Then I let out a loud squeak as he squeezes my arse, cupping my buttocks and shoving against me. What the fuck?
“Hands. You’re not an octopus,” I snap, wriggling free and offering a smile to soothe the sting, but really, what does he expect?
I’m free with my body, but it usually takes more than two seconds of acquaintanceship.
Five seconds is my minimum requirement. And a cafe at lunch is not the place to grind on someone. Not without asking first, anyway.
Seemingly unbothered, he grins at me as I settle down at the table and shove my bag under the chair. It’s a smug, arrogant sort of smile that my ex would really approve of because of the way it mirrors his own.
“I wish I were an octopus,” Nigel says in an unfortunately too loud voice. “I could use eight hands right about now with that arse of yours. Can octopuses make a fist?”