Chapter Twenty-Four Dolly #2
We unclip the wires from our mic packs and turn them off for good measure, leaving them in the bedroom. Production might not notice we’ve gone offline if we’re quick.
I shut the door behind us, as Carys sits down on the closed toilet lid causing the layers of her skirt to puff up like a ballerina. I stay standing, which makes me feel even taller than usual, but I want to have the door at my back. My exit if things go wrong.
‘We need to make that truce permanent,’ I say. There’s no point beating around the bush. It’s not like we have the best communication when we’re actively fighting, after all.
‘We’re fine.’
‘We are not fine and the others are starting to notice.’
‘Really?’ Her eyes dash to the door. ‘Do you think—?’
‘Not if we put all this to bed now.’ I regret my choice of words. ‘I’m just not sure this is worth our energy. Can we not just be distantly polite for the rest of this process?’
‘No.’ It’s a sharp little bite of a word.
I groan. ‘Why? You don’t even know why you’re angry with me.’
‘Yes, I do.’ She seems as puffed up as her skirt. ‘You’re a liar.’
‘Right, and what about exactly?’
‘Marrying Warren.’
‘Well, you’re marrying Patrick when you’re not even into him.’
She looks up at me with a curled red sneer. ‘I’m not lying to him. I am into him.’
‘I’m sure. And I bet he still hasn’t talked to you about his ex-girlfriend?’
‘He has,’ she says with limited conviction.
‘Well, there we go. We’re all a bag of liars. You’re no better than me or Warren or your future husband.’
Her nose wrinkles up in disgust. ‘God, Dolly. It’s not all about you. I can like him too.’
‘So you do like me.’ I’m so smug.
It’s her turn to growl. ‘Urgh, can you just fuck off!’
Her words echo off the tiles, and both of us spin our heads to the door. No one appears. The music outside must have covered her yelling.
‘I don’t want to talk about this,’ she groans.
‘That’s what I’m suggesting,’ I insist, though it rings a bit hollow when I’ve been digging at her. ‘People are noticing that we’re pissing each other off all the time, on purpose, and will put two and two together. If you care about your marriage to Patrick then you surely don’t want that.’
Her eyes drop to her skirt. ‘I just don’t like what you’re doing.’
‘Fine. You don’t have to. You can just fume quietly about how much you hate me, while we stay civil in public. If we both want to keep playing the Little Miss Perfect Heterosexual card, you need to agree to this. If we keep this up, everyone will notice the way we look at each other.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘And how exactly do I look at you?’
‘Like you want to kiss me, Carys.’
It hangs in the air, awkward but true.
‘I don’t,’ she whispers.
‘Do you really believe that? You’ve just turned all that off for yourself, have you?’
‘Some of us can…’ She begins haughtily, but she trails off as quickly as she’s started. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘We just can’t get away with eye fucking each other across the sexy dance-offs either.’
‘I don’t imagine there’ll be any more of those.’
I snort. ‘I wouldn’t put anything past this show. Just, can we leave it?’
‘Only if you can stop implying that I’m a lesbian.’
‘Actually, all I’ve said is that you obviously like women and are hiding that from yourself for some reason.’
She stands up suddenly, an angry little noise shrieking out of her. ‘Urgh, this is what I mean, Dolly. You don’t know me as well as you think you do but you always have an answer for why I’m wrong and you’re right. I’m just stupid little Carys who has got everything wrong as usual.’
I look up at the ceiling, trying not to roll my eyes. ‘I didn’t say that, and if there weren’t two marriages on the line, I wouldn’t give a fuck how you act.’
Carys storms towards me. I think for a second that she’s about to push past me out of the bathroom, but she stops right in front of me. God, she’s beautiful even when she’s furious with me, all that pretty pink an angry flushed colour. Raspberry red, perhaps.
I want to kiss the colour off her, even now.
‘I thought you were good at hiding how you felt?’ she says.
‘I don’t think either of us is good at that,’ I whisper.
She sneers up at me. ‘You think I still want you?’
‘Yes. Carys, why do you think you get so angry when you look at me? When you see me kissing Warren?’ Something like realisation flashes across her eyes. ‘You don’t hate me, Carys. You’re jealous. You want me. That’s been the problem all along. You never stopped wanting me.’
I don’t even know how we started kissing, but we are. It’s hungry, angry. The tips of her fingers dig into the softness of my upper arms like I’m the last life raft, but also like she’s trying to drown me. Pleasure and pain mingle together, and my head swims.
She can’t get close enough, so I hoist her up by the soft meat of her hips.
She wraps her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck, and she bites my bottom lip hard.
I am so, so thankful I’m strong as she writhes around, trying to ride me.
The heels of her thigh-high boots dig into the soft curves of my hips and I imagine her standing on me in them.
We were drunk on each other last time, but this is a different intoxication. It’s all fury as she slides her fingers down between us, trying to pleasure both of us at once. I really regret wearing a gigantic fishnet bodysuit and a bodice. I couldn’t have picked an outfit harder to get into.
When she hits the right place, I almost drop her from the rush of it.
‘You were right. Happy?’ Her pleading noises as she grinds are a melody, and they make me want to squeeze my thighs together from the delicious ache.
I set her down facing the mirror, me right behind her. Our height difference means we can see each other clearly in the reflection. I push her forward slowly, so her hands land either side of the sink. She’s bent over, underneath me, and I can see she loves it.
‘Say it,’ I tell her.
She locks eyes with me, panting hard. ‘Come on. Fuck me.’