Chapter 4
Natasha
There is only one thing worse than waking with a hangover.
Hazy images of yourself from the night before.
I look around the room to try and get my bearings.
That’s right, I’m in my hotel room, alone.
I trudge to the bathroom and stare in the mirror at the ugly raccoon looking back at me.
The ugly raccoon who does a great impersonation of a dog on heat, on dance floors at weddings.
I cringe as the memory of last night comes forth to my foggy brain.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Shit. What came over me?
I put my head in my hands. Why in the hell did I drink last night?
He must think I’m a total hooker. I couldn’t have appeared any easier if I tried.
I feel like shit this morning. Hopefully he was drunk.
Then he won’t remember me making a total fool of myself.
One minute we were dancing, the next thing kissing.
I tap my forehead as I remember and smile.
What am I smiling about? A knock bangs on the door.
Unfortunately, I know exactly who it is.
I frown again as my brain hits my skull.
Knock, knock, knock. “Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming. ”
I open the door to a cranky-looking Bridget. She smiles a plastered-on smile.
“What happened to you last night?”
I turn, walk over to the coffee maker and flick it on. Coffee will help me with this conversation. I’m not in the mood for this shit. I stand with my back to her trying to look busy. If I look her in the eye, she will know without a doubt that I’m lying.
“I must have eaten something, and I couldn’t stop vomiting. I didn’t want to interrupt your night, so I just got a cab.” She stays silent as she listens to my explanation.
“Do you want coffee?” I ask, hoping she bought the blurb of lies I have just sent her way. “It was a nice wedding, wasn’t it? The bride looked gorgeous, didn’t she?” I’m babbling and talking way too fast. “What time did you get home?” I ask as I turn to face her armed with my caffeine.
“I went out with the Stanton boys. We went clubbing.” I nod, staying silent.
“Do you have something to tell me?” she asks with a raised brow.
“No, why do you say that?”
“I don’t know if you noticed, but I was at the wedding yesterday.” She rips her hair down from its bun with such force it’s a wonder she doesn’t scalp herself.
“Yes, I know,” I mutter.
“And I was on the dance floor last night.” Dread fills my stomach. “I’m waiting.” She continues to scowl at me.
“Why do you think I have something to tell you?”
“Because the Stanton boys all know what’s going on.”
“What?” I snap. “How do you know?”
“When I was with them last night, I came back from the bar and they were talking about you and Joshua.”
Holy crap, my eyes are the size of saucers.
“What did they say?” My heart rate doubles as I hold my breath.
She holds up her hand. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Was Joshua with you?” I ask, secretly hoping she has some info for me, something I can cling on to, anything?
“No, he left after the dirty dancing affair as well.” I put my face into my hands. “Cameron said I should ask you about it. He seemed shocked that I didn’t know.”
“Know what?” I whisper, my eyes wide. “You tell me!” she yells.
“Oh god, this is terrible,” I wail.
“Tell me,” she urges.
Again, another knock, thank heavens for Mum’s impeccable timing.
“Come in,” I yell a little too fast. Bridget scowls at me. I smile as I open the door.
“Hi honey, are you feeling better? I wish you would have come and gotten me last night. You didn’t need to catch a cab on your own. Why didn’t you just find me instead of texting me?”
“Yes, why is that, Natasha? It’s very unlike you.” Bridget scowls at me as she folds her arms in front of her.
“Come on, we have breakfast at the Stantons’.”
I am so not going there. How do I get out of this?
“I still don’t feel well. I can’t come, Mum, sorry. I don’t want to risk throwing up in public, or on Margaret for that matter.” The thought tickles my fancy and I stifle a smile.
Bridget narrows her eyes at me. “I bet,” she snaps.
Mum gives me a reassuring smile that only a mother can give. “No worries. It’s a shame though. We never catch up with them, never mind, next time.” She rubs my arm and heads over to the lift entrance, calling from the hall for Bridget to hurry up.
“When we get home, we are meeting Abbie at Oscar’s and I want the fucking truth.” She pokes me hard in the chest.
“Ow, OK,” I whisper, trying desperately to get rid of her.
I do wide eyes to her to signify my distaste for this conversation.
I dread the impending conversation—my stomach dry retches just thinking about it.
I’m not stretching the truth too far actually; vomiting could be in the very soon foreseeable future.
This is a total nightmare. I want desperately to go to breakfast to see him.
I need to see him. It’s a need, not a want.
I want to see his face after last night, but I can’t risk seeing Scott, his brother.
I am so embarrassed. I wish I had a vision of what last night looked like.
Did I look like the instigator? Was I the instigator?
Did he reciprocate my desire? Or did I imagine it?
For the next three hours I act like the total loser I am.
I download Rihanna’s ‘Diamonds’ track and listen to it on repeat while lying on my bed staring at the ceiling, only leaving the bed to dry retch into the toilet every now and then.
I reminisce about dancing with him last night, the feel of his unrestrained strength under my hands and the divine smell of him.
Hmm, the way he bit my neck. I get goose bumps just thinking about it.
His want for me, his pure maleness…is that even a word?
I can’t help but smile—my god, he sure does shine bright, like a diamond that is.
He’s still got it and, worse than that, I still want it.
Joshua Stanton is too beautiful for words.
Oscar’s, 6:00 p.m.
Bridget hasn’t talked to me all day other than to tell me Joshua didn’t show for breakfast with his family. We are waiting for Abbie to arrive, sipping our coffee in silence. I don’t know why she’s pissed off as I’m the one everyone is talking about. I just wish I knew what they were saying.
Abbie finally turns up in a rush and is obviously flustered. “Hi, what in the hell is the crisis meeting about?” She unloads all the crap from her bag, looking for her wallet. “Is it TC? Have you heard anything?” Her eyes search mine. “Has she made a move on him?”
“No, nothing like that,” I answer. “How would we know anyway?”
“What’s so bloody urgent then? I am going on a date tonight.”
“Who with?” we both say in tandem.
“Tristan, army guy.”
We all smile. I think she likes him.
Bridget sits back. “Natasha has something to tell us.” She folds her arms in front of her. God, she plays the bitch well.
“You do?” Abbie smiles, her face questioning and eyebrows raised.
“Um.” I don’t look either of them in the eye.
Bridget points her spoon at me. “Enough of this shit. Out with it.”
Abbie looks between both of us. “What the hell is going on?”
Obviously, she is shocked at bitch Bridget’s venom. My moment of truth has arrived, and I am about to be judged by the two people who mean the most to me. They are important. Their opinion matters, it really matters. I blow out a long and steadying breath as I try to calm my nerves.
“I…I…had a steamy month-long sexual affair with Joshua when I was seventeen.” I say it in a rush to get the words out.
“What the fuck!” Abbie spits out. I stay silent as I see the color drip from their faces, my eyes flicking between them.
“Hang on, back up.” Abbie is confused and holds up her hand in a stop signal. “Your cousin?” she asks, mortified.
“Yes.” I nod.
“The gorgeous one?” I nod again.
“What? You slept with him?” I nod. “Your cousin,” she repeats as she frowns. “More than once?” I nod. “How many times?” Abbie is in total shock. I shrug my shoulders. “How many times?” she repeats.
“Four or five times,” I answer.
She puts her hand on her chest. “Oh, thank god.”
“Every day for a month,” I finish my sentence.
“Fuck off,” Bridget snaps. We both look at her. She has been blissfully silent up until this point. “You slept with Joshua four or five times a day for a month? When was this?”
“On holiday before he went away.”
“Where was I?”
“You were in England with Jenna.” She nods as she processes the information. I can almost see her brain ticking.
“And last night was the first time you’ve seen each other since.” Once again, I nod. “How do we not know this?” Bridget asks, the hurt in her voice cutting me. I’m a bad friend who keeps secrets.
“Bridget, I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell anyone because I’m ashamed.” Abbie has her hands in front of her mouth like she’s praying.
“Hang on,” Bridge whispers. “How old were you?”
“Seventeen,” I answer, knowing for certain what the next question is going to be.
“Don’t tell me,” Abbie whispers, eyes wide.
I nod. “Yes, I lost my virginity to him.”
“Fuck off,” Bridget snaps again. “Were you his first?” Bridget’s hands are running through her hair.
“No, he had slept with lots of girls before me.”
“Shit. This is fucked up, Tash,” Bridget whispers.
“I know.” I give a weak smile and nod. “I think….” I stay silent. “I think….”
“What?” Bridget snaps as she sips her coffee. Her patience is running thin.
“I think I’m in love with him.”
“Fuck off,” Bridget snaps as she chokes on her coffee.
“Will you stop saying that?”
“Well then, stop shocking me.”
“Why do you think that?” Abbie looks like she is going to vomit, her face screwed up. She’s holding her stomach.
“Because…because….” They are both leaning in toward me, on the edge of their seats. Bridget is biting her thumbnail. “I think I’m in love with him because I haven’t…I haven’t….”
“You haven’t what?” Abbie snaps.