Chapter 18 Nora
Nora
‘Ialmost kissed him, for God’s sake. Like, sober, and in the middle of the afternoon on a sun lounger, and not even in front of anyone we were trying to fool.’
Elle’s mouth, laden with Seventies-style, high-shine gloss, drops open. ‘Shut up. You did not. You—OMG. So describe the almost-kiss. Was there hovering? And, like, staring at each other’s mouths? And lips gently parting?’
In front of us, Josh groans and shifts in his seat. ‘It’s totally fine, ladies. Just pretend I’m not here. This isn’t awkward for me at all.’
We’re in a car en route to what will be one of the parties of the year, and poor Josh is collateral damage in my debrief session with Elle.
The subject of my debrief, my fake-boyfriend-who-I-almost-really-kissed, will see us there.
Tonight, our friend Lotta from uni is throwing a Studio 54-themed party to celebrate that epic milestone of her twenty-eighth birthday, and the socialites of London will be out in force, as will Emmanuel College Class of 2012.
I don’t even know how to explain Carlotta Charlton-Montefiore.
She’s the daughter of a beautiful Italian socialite and a British software engineer who founded a Software-as-a-Service company that’s now in the FTSE 100.
You get the picture. You might get an even clearer picture if I told you she’s like an Italian version of Araminta from the movie Crazy Rich Asians.
You know, crazy, rich and totally entitled, but somehow not a bitch. Not even a little.
I could tell you she’s pronounced Araminta’s thigh-high-boots-down-water-filled-aisle moment ‘utter perfection’ and has vowed to recreate it for her own wedding (groom: currently unknown), but that would just freak you out. Right?
Oh. And she’s scarily bright. She and her brother run a super-high-end property development company whose residential offering caters for the great and good of London.
So, yeah. I should hate her, but she’s like a ray of sunshine.
Cliched, but true. She’s a force of positivity and warmth.
All is always good in Lotta’s world. And the girl knows how to throw a party.
Even Elle didn’t want to miss it, and she managed to persuade Josh to come along with the promise that Lotta is confiscating all mobile phones at the door.
Officially, it’s to heighten the Seventies vibe.
Unofficially, I suspect she’s set the policy so Elle and Josh can come and relax—partly because she’s a good friend, and partly to make her guest list even more fabulous.
There will, however, be paparazzi galore at the door of the exclusive Mayfair club that for one night, and one night only, will be transformed into Studio 54.
Elle and I have been getting ready together at Josh’s stunning pad in Notting Hill.
Elle takes this kind of stuff seriously, and she also thinks nothing of outsourcing hair and makeup and calling in dress favours from desperate-to-dress-her fashion PRs.
So we’re both in backless, draped Halston dresses with plunging necklines, her in turquoise and me in purple.
I’ve never used so much tit tape in my life.
We’ve got matching flicked-out hair, blue eyeshadow, lashings of shimmery cheekbone highlighter and the aforementioned glossy lips.
Josh is looking great, too. He’s swiped a pair of sideburns from the Grosvenor makeup department (who knew they could be so historically versatile?) and slicked back his hair. His jacket is sharp and his trousers are tight. Let me tell you, no one will be complaining.
Theo’s meeting us there. He and Lotta know each other mainly because rich kids in London tend to hang out in the same circles and get snapped for Tatler magazine at the same parties.
Which brings me back to: The Almost Kiss.
‘Suck it up, Josh.’ I lean over and pat him on the shoulder. ‘Consider it an education in how women think.’
‘Uh-oh.’ He sinks lower into his seat. ‘Thank fuck I plan to never have any almost-kissing moments with another woman for the rest of my life.’
I eye Elle up. ‘Is there something you two want to tell me?’
She waves her hand dismissively. ‘Oh, please. Obviously, he’s not going anywhere. Not after his little performance on live TV. Right, honey?’
‘What she said.’ He twists around and grins at Elle, and the look in his eyes probably melts her underwear off. If she’s wearing any.
I clear my throat. ‘Anyway. Yes, there was hovering. And leaning. And parted lips, and yearning glances at said lips—from both parties. And I think my boobs even heaved, at some point.’
‘You two considered auditioning as extras on Grosvenor?’ Josh drawls.
‘Josh. That is not a helpful comment,’ Elle snaps, but she softens the blow by sliding her hand over his shoulder and presumably inside his shirt, judging by the contented purr that comes from the front seat.
‘I’ll let the ladies talk.’
‘Good boy. You were saying, Nor.’
‘I feel stupid. I’m not sure why I’m even telling you this. But it’s weird, no? Being like that with him, when we weren’t even supposed to be faking?’
‘It’s not weird, necessarily,’ Elle says carefully.
‘I mean, he’s a good-looking guy, and you’re gorgeous.
And you’ve been spending a lot of time together—you’re kind of living together.
So of course it makes sense if there’s an attraction.
Just because you’re pretending it’s something it isn’t, doesn’t mean there can’t be any real potential there. ’
‘I’m sure you’re right.’ I fiddle with the clasp on my evening bag.
‘It’s just—I’m still in love with Jonathan.
The whole reason I’m going through this ridiculous charade is to try to scare him into realising he made a mistake.
I’m not supposed to be getting distracted by your hot, persistent cousin. ’
When I glance up from my bag, Elle’s looking at me in a concerned manner. I roll my eyes.
‘Say it.’
She presses her lips together before speaking.
‘Life doesn’t always get the memo about what we’re supposed to be doing, Nor.
I wasn’t supposed to cave in and give my insanely hot and totally sociopathic, Twitter-dumping, ghosting ex the time of day, but I did.
And it turns out, we were the love of each other’s lives all along. ’
‘Er, I’m right here,’ Josh says.
‘What I mean is, sometimes things are less clearly defined than we’d like them to be.
Sometimes we have to follow our gut. And let me remind you that Jonathan treated you badly, and walked away from you.
The only guy acting properly towards you right now is Theo, from where I’m standing.
Yeah, maybe he’s just trying to get some benefits, but at least with Theo, you always know where you stand.
He’s a pretty basic guy. If he was making a move to kiss you, it’s because he’s into you.
Doesn’t mean he wants to marry you.’ She shrugs.
‘It’s up to you to decide whether you want to take what he’s offering. ’
She’s right. If I should give Theo credit for anything, it’s that he’s up front about what he wants.
He’s also kind. He was really sweet to me when I opened up about my background, and I think by the time I finished talking, he understood why I wasn’t biting Mr Danger’s hand off to accept his offer of hot sex. What was it he said?
Oh yeah. I’d like to relentlessly exploit my fake girlfriend’s gorgeous body for sex. Every time I’ve replayed Theo saying that to me, I swear I’ve burned up between my legs. It wasn’t just the words, though they were enough on their own, frankly.
Relentlessly exploit.
Relentlessly. Exploit.
There was something so dirty about the way he said it. A subtext I haven’t allowed myself to explore too deeply beyond the crystal clear visual of Theo bearing down on me.
Being relentless with me. God, to know what that would feel like.
And he thinks my body is gorgeous?
But no, it wasn’t just what he said. It was the way he said it, his hand dipping into my waist and those ridiculous dark eyes burning into mine, even darker than usual because they were practically all pupil.
That beard of his so close I just wanted to scratch my fingertips through it.
Feel the friction of it against my face as he kissed me.
Yes, dammit. I wanted him to kiss me. Are you happy? And when I say wanted, I don’t mean I made a deliberate plan to want it. I mean my body was completely drawn to him. To the way I knew he could make me feel.
In his words, we’d be hot as fuck together.
Ain’t that the truth?
And because I knew that the way he’d make me feel would not only be incredible, but the absolute and polar opposite of safe, I pressed abort.
I desist from telling Elle any of this background to the almost-kiss. She definitely does not need that level of information.