Lydia #2
Ren took a step back, rubbing his face. I was expecting the usual sly smile, but all I got was a dejected sigh.
‘Lydia… I’m really sorry. It just… got out of hand.’
I softened, a smile teasing the edge of my mouth. ‘I’m pulling your leg. It’s fine. But I don’t even know half the people here.’ I glanced around at the crowds in the kitchen. ‘This doesn’t look like your usual crowd.’
Ren huffed, ‘Well, that’s funny ’cos apparently I’ve met my brother’s expectations perfectly.’
‘Ren.’
‘I invited Isaac and Imogen.’
I winced. ‘You said they were wild.’
‘They told everyone they knew. Before I knew it, another fifteen, twenty people had appeared. People I barely know. We’re just lucky it’s a Friday and a lot of people are working. On a Sunday we’d have been overrun.’
‘What are we doing out here? Come on.’ I grabbed his hand, leading him back inside. ‘Let’s kick some people out.’
It took 20 minutes, turning on the ‘big light’ and unplugging the DJ for everyone to leave.
Another 15 to clear the mess and get the house back in order.
Mostly. Ren apologised to Mum more times than I could count.
Then Mum and Dad giggled their way down the garden to smoke some pot that Isaac and Imogen had brought with them.
I clapped. ‘Much better.’
I placed the last glass on the tea towel to dry, turning to Ren, who had a broom in his hand. He gave me a tight, sad smile. The house might have looked in better form, but Ren was still miserable.
‘Not all doom and gloom, grumpy.’ I walked over to him, poking his cheek.
Come on, smile for me.
‘Only because of you.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.’
I shrugged. ‘Get arrested. Again.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘It was once.’
We smiled at each other, and I shifted on my feet. Something always hung between us at the end of evenings, when we didn’t want to part. We both wanted to linger longer. Like we wanted to wring a little more time out of the night, twisting every last drop from it like water from an old rag.
‘I should go,’ Ren said, gesturing to the front door.
‘Come on,’ I said, slipping my hand into his, ignoring the stupid sparks that shot up my arm as if I hadn’t trained myself out of reacting to them. A hangover from my pining days.
Right, and those are totally behind you.
‘The night’s still young.’
His hand still in mine, I led him through our hallway and up the stairs.
I pushed open the door to my childhood bedroom – a little box room, with pink brushed-cotton sheets and old High School Musical posters, the ink ageing Zac Efron’s face.
I climbed into my single bed, gesturing to Ren to join me.
Ren gave a rough laugh. ‘I’m not sure we’re gonna fit any more, Lyds.’
Ren stood by my door, his eyes shifting between me and the bed, as if he was debating something.
‘Oh, come on. For old times’ sake. We can watch a film. Take your mind off tonight.’
He paused, unnaturally still. And for a moment, I wondered if I’d made the wrong call.
We’d spent sleepovers in this room for as long as I could remember.
First as kids, limbs akimbo and full of sugar, then later – as we morphed from kids to tweens to teenagers – things blurred.
The lines had softened. And somewhere along the way, I’d stopped looking for them.
The nights in this room had been the best memories of my life.
Listening to his breath, steady and peaceful, after he lost his mum and shut everyone away.
I knew that this room was a refuge for him.
But we were a couple of years away from 30 now, so it felt a bit ridiculous.
‘Of course. Silly.’ I laughed, my face flushing, throwing my feet to the floor.
Suddenly, I was met with a wall of man – solid, warm, and way too familiar – as Ren launched himself on to the bed, right over me, making me squeal-laugh. His scent hit me instantly, smoky and intense and like home. The touch was playful. Stupid. Harmless. But my stomach still flipped over.
Ren’s voice was in my ear. ‘Just don’t hog it like you used to.’
‘I didn’t hog it!’
We shifted so we lay side by side. Our faces inches apart.
I smiled. ‘And you snored.’
‘Yeah, well, you used to gob all over my T-shirt.’
‘Did not!’
‘Did so.’
Ren pulled out my old laptop, pleased when it roared to life, and played the DVD that was already in there – A Cinderella Story – and I sighed.
Hilary Duff. Chad Michael Murray. Heaven.
‘Love this one.’ He pulled the laptop closer, because I used to complain about how hot it would get on my legs. ‘I’ll go after the film.’
I smiled at the familiar promise he never kept. After ten minutes, Ren closed the laptop, throwing us into darkness.
‘I just wanna say, before you start drooling on me…’ He glanced down at me, his dark eyes simmering with softness. ‘Thank you for tonight. For being so brilliant. I – I knew things had got out of control, but I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want your mum to think I didn’t appreciate the party—’
‘She’d throw a party for the opening of an envelope. No offence.’
Ren chuckled, low and rumbling, and I could feel it low in my belly. I shifted, trying to find space in the tiny bed, when Ren lifted his arm.
‘Come here,’ he murmured and my breath hitched.
I paused a moment before I lay my head on his biceps, his arms cocooning me.
I thought he probably just wanted to make more room, but then he pulled me even closer.
Ren’s lips came down on my temple, a ghost of a feather-light kiss – light and hesitant.
My heart hammered so loud I was sure he could feel it thudding beneath his palm pressed against my ribs.
‘Today was a shit day,’ he murmured, his voice low and rough, so close I could feel his words touch my skin. ‘But you always make everything better.’
‘You do too,’ I breathed, shifting to catch his eyes in the darkness, the faint glow from the streetlights lighting up his face.
And I wished I hadn’t looked.
Because Ren was staring down at me as if I was his entire world.
His eyes shifted down to my lips. And lingered.
We were… so close. We were so close, closer than we’d ever allowed.
There was the usual banter, touches and teasing between us, but this?
His arms wrapped around me, his eyes fixed on my mouth, his breath warm at my ear – this was something else.
Everything was tense and languid at the same time.
‘Ren.’ I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing myself to put some distance between us. But then my legs grazed against his – warm, bare. And it felt so good.
‘Lydia.’ His voice dropped, thick and husky.
This – the pull between us – had always been the hardest thing to fight. The way it grew quietly, stubbornly, over the years. I’d convinced myself it was one-sided. But here, tangled up in my childhood bed, with his heat and scent wrapped around me, I could feel it – that same fierce pull from him.
Maybe it wasn’t just me.
‘How are you so soft?’
His words felt like a snap, an elastic band finally breaking. I shifted my legs between his, and he pulled me tighter into him, pressing himself into me, hot and hard.
‘Lydia,’ he groaned, his breath shaky. ‘I’ve thought about this so many times.’
Have you? I wanted to ask. When? How? Was this always one-sided or did you feel it too?
But the question died on my lips as his eyes locked with mine and his mouth claimed me.
Our gasps melted into moans, lips replacing words, and our clothes slipped away.
Instead I heard the beautiful things he murmured on to my skin, how I was perfect, exactly how he had imagined.
I wanted to ask exactly what he had imagined, but I couldn’t form words when his strong body was pressed between my legs, fingertips tracing and marking my skin.
Maybe I should have been afraid of the words we should have said.
But as the sweat cooled and our hearts slowed, and he pulled me back into his arms – words felt insignificant.
He was honest about how he felt, eventually.
But when I woke up, he was gone.