Chapter 14
MELODY
At eleven p.m. Melody is curled into Al’s naked body in bed.
She’s not tired, it’s too early to sleep and certainly too early to go home.
She needs to make it until at least four thirty a.m. so that she can be home by five.
She can sleep by herself from five a.m., that’s the golden rule. Nothing bad happens after five.
Spooning and cuddling feels wrong, too intimate even after the most intimate act, but they’ve both resorted to it, her thigh over his leg, her head against his chest. Her stomach gurgles against his torso.
‘So this feels weird,’ Al says suddenly, good-naturedly, and Melody bursts out laughing with relief.
She moves away from him, wrapping the bedding tight to her body, even though he’d had his lips on most parts of her body not too long ago.
‘Don’t get me wrong, the sex was incredible,’ he says.
‘Agree. Ten out of ten,’ she says, leaning against the headboard. ‘It was definitely worth nineteen flights of stairs.’
‘Those thighs were tight,’ he says, and she laughs again. ‘But the canoodling thing isn’t working, I’m not feeling it, Melody, and I don’t think your heart’s in it.’
‘It’s not.’
‘It’s too early for you to go home, and it’s too early to go to sleep,’ he surmises.
Her thoughts exactly.
‘So I’m thinking we could watch a movie or feed that growling monster in your stomach before it attacks me.’
‘Perfect.’ She’s so relieved they’re on the same page, there’s no awkwardness.
‘I’ve no food in the fridge. I haven’t been able to eat for about a month.’
She remembered that feeling after breaking up with Sam.
‘We can order pizza?’
‘Yes, I’m ravenous.’
He flicks through his phone, then hands it to her, open on a menu. ‘This place is good but I’m easy.’
This bothers her. ‘What would you like?’
‘Whatever you want. I’ll eat anything. As you now know.’
She groans and can’t help but laugh at his stupid joke. ‘I like mushrooms and sweetcorn.’
‘Mushroom and sweetcorn it is,’ he says, taking the phone back.
‘No, that’s what I want. A small one.’
‘You don’t like sharing food?’
‘I like sharing food but I don’t want you giving up on your pizza dreams because of me.’
He roars laughing.
‘I’m serious! This situation is telling me a lot about you. You’re a nice guy, who bends to women and no, don’t make that face, I’m not making that joke. Compromise is for peace deals and hostage negotiation. It’s not for relationships.’
‘Are you joking? Relationships are all about compromise. Have you ever been in one?’
Melody barely pauses for breath. ‘To compromise, somebody always has to give up something. A fair and equal compromise is when both people have to give up something that they want. In a relationship, that shouldn’t happen.
I don’t know you that well but I bet you’re the guy who bends and moulds himself to shape himself around other people.
The perfect boyfriend. But did you never want to go and box the head off someone?
Go into a room and tear all of your skin off and scream? Don’t answer that. I bet you did.’
He’s stopped laughing now, and his eyes flick up to the right. Melody would bet anything he’s picturing Tara now.
‘Tara looks like a pretty girl. I bet she was high-maintenance. I bet she wanted thoughtful gifts and a romantic boyfriend and I bet she wanted to feel like a princess. I bet she’s the type of girl who cared what people thought but you’re the type of guy who only cared what she thought.
I bet you knew when her periods were coming, I bet you’d come home with chocolate and pain relief tablets and hot water bottles and I bet she played it up and you were perfect and attentive and always thought of her first. I bet you were always home at the time you said you’d be.
I bet you had to leave parties early because Tara was bored or tired or wasn’t feeling it. ’
He looks stunned as she reads him like a book.
‘I bet you were always so kind and respectful and ate whatever she wanted to eat and watched whatever crap movies she wanted to watch. But you don’t have to be a people pleaser anymore, definitely not with me. So tell me again, Al, what pizza do you want?’
He blinks, and she sees that his eyes have watered. He is this strong fragile thing that she wants to hold again.
‘Pepperoni,’ he says.
‘That’s the spirit,’ she says, tapping the buttons on the app to order. ‘A small mushroom and sweetcorn pizza for me and for you, my friend …’
Al looks offended. ‘Lover.’
‘Okay, my lover, a large pepperoni pizza. We are ordering two separate pizzas because we are two unique individuals who have different tastes and desires and goals and who know our own minds. Wait.’ She hands him the phone. ‘The address. I have no idea where I am.’
He’s laughing so hard he can barely type the address.
Melody takes a quick shower. She never did get one when she made it to the top of the stairs.
When she steps out of the en-suite, Al’s sitting up in the made bed, the bedding around his waist, TV remote control in his hand.
The bed looks neat and inviting. He looks divine.
His five o’clock shadow speckling his jaw.
Shower droplets trickle down her shoulders, tickling her skin, reminding her of his touch, and she considers dropping the towel.
Then for some reason she fights with herself to stop getting so carried away, to take control of herself. She tightens her grip on the towel.
Al turns his attention to her and his gaze softens, a stray curl hangs over his eye.
A beautiful gaze with his strong jaw, and bright blue eyes, and she melts again.
To her own surprise she moves closer to him, body reacting without listening to her mind.
She leans over and gives him a kiss, a kiss that’s slow and long and sensual.
She runs her fingertips over his toned stomach, her nails pirouetting over his muscles.
He moans in response. He gently tugs at her towel and it falls at her feet. He pulls her down onto him then flips her so that she’s beneath him.
The intercom buzzes.
‘No,’ he fake cries, and continues to kiss her, her mouth, her neck. ‘I’m not hungry anymore,’ he mumbles into her skin. ‘I have everything I need right here.’
She grins as he moves down her chest, kissing her breasts, paying them extra special attention, then runs his tongue down her stomach.
The intercom buzzes again.
He looks up at her from between her legs, his pupils dilated, hair ruffled.
‘You were right. I was being polite. I didn’t want pizza. I want to eat what I want to eat.’
She grins, then sighs, her fingers gripping the sheets as she arches her back.