12. KATE
12
KATE
A s I descend into the belly of the club, I am determined to put Nico out of mind. I’m here to have fun with my friends, not fret about whatever that strange interaction back in the office was, or what it meant. Or that the gentlest of his touches had me almost—
Stop it.
I bring my focus back to the present. Martini Gems is elaborately decorated like an ice cave, with glittering walls and ceilings, ice sculptures on podiums and crystal light fittings overhead. It’s like Disneyland—with alcohol—for wealthy adults.
Lights flicker and bodies heave in every inch of space; the music is pounding so loud that I can feel it in my kneecaps. I’m eager for a drink. I need to shed the stress of the last few weeks, not to mention the last hour.
I search for Elly and Marie, finally spying them huddled at a table in the corner. They’re dressed identically to me, except Marie’s top is red and Elly’s is gold. I want to laugh that Elly has dressed us up like a girl band.
“Kate!” she yells, waving me over when she sees me. She grabs me and kisses the side of my face, engulfing me in her huge mop of blonde hair. It smells clean, like strawberry soap, but her breath is boozy. I suspect she’s already had one too many cocktails. She points a wavering finger at me. “I knew you’d look smoking in this.”
I smile at the compliment and join them at the table, which is littered with empty glasses, as well as a huge ice bucket with two champagne bottles inside.
Marie, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail so tight it tugs at her temples, looks to be enjoying herself, but I note the dark circles beneath her eyes; she’s a junior doctor and works even harder than I do. It’s rare we manage a night out together.
She slides a champagne cocktail in my direction. “You’ve got some catching up to do.” Her expression contains a dare, and, not wanting to disappoint, I take the glass and down the whole thing in one go. Marie chuckles and Elly whoops. It’s been far too long since I let loose, and their reactions let me know they agree. Elly wastes no time in passing me a second glass, which I gulp down just as quickly as the first.
We spend a few minutes catching up, shouting over the music, and Elly and Marie both share news of their week. But when it’s my turn, I can think of nothing to say that isn’t Nico, Nico, Nico . His face, his eyes, his voice… his hand on my hip, tenderly stroking the skin, looking at me as though he wanted me as much as I want him…
Could he want me that way?
I shake my head as if I can drop all thoughts of him out of my mind. But they’re lodged deep in the crevices of my brain and all the attempt does is knock his words from earlier loose.
Should’ve left you locked in there all night. At least then I wouldn’t have to deal with your bullshit.
No. Nico doesn’t like me.
“What the hell are you thinking about? Is it that arsehole of a boss?” Marie queries as she tops up all our drinks.
“No,” I lie.
“Arsehole?” Elly says. “Do you mean that hottie she works for?”
“Yeah, exactly. Nico fucking Hawkston,” Marie says, employing my usual name for him. I’ve told them both about how he booked out the entire spa for me on my first day and demanded I have lunch with him. Elly swooned, but Marie shared my opinion that he ought to have asked me first. Not asking, she said, was a power play.
Elly directs a pointed look my way, and I let out a hopeless sigh, dropping back into my seat. “Maybe.”
Marie shakes her head at me as though I’ve failed a test I didn’t know I was taking.
“I know you hate him,” Elly begins, with a brow raise that indicates she doesn’t believe it. “But he is insanely good-looking. I’m not remotely surprised you tried to take your clothes off for him.”
My body tenses. I know what Elly’s referencing, but Marie has no idea.
Marie focuses on me. “You got your kit off for him?”
“Oh, shit.” Elly’s fingers flutter to her lips, her eyes apologetic. “Was it supposed to be a secret?”
“No. Not really. It was a long time ago…”
“Kate was in love with him when we were at school,” Elly interrupts, like I just waived my right to privacy.
“I wasn’t in love with him,” I reply far too quickly.
Elly laughs, tilting forward in her seat to share the gossip. “You were obsessed.”
I wince. Even now, energy is vibrating in every cell because we’re talking about him. “Can we not talk about this?” I groan, feigning reluctance.
Elly’s smile splits wide, and she points a finger at me. “Stop pretending you don’t want to. You’re practically drooling already.”
Damn. She knows me too well . “Am not.”
Thankfully, Elly doesn’t push me any further before she turns to Marie. “Kate got in the hot tub and took off her bikini top. Twirled it round on her finger and tossed it in the water.” Elly stands up, whirls her index finger in the air and shakes her hips in a playful version of a stripper dance. She finishes by flicking her finger, letting the imaginary bikini top fly across the dance floor.
That’s not at all how it went down, but I don’t want to spoil her theatrics.
Marie smirks. “Then what happened?”
I take a deep breath. Might as well tell her the whole story. “He looked at me like I’d lost my mind and told me to go back inside. And then…” I grimace at the memory and Marie raises an eyebrow.
“What?”
I press my hands over my mouth and talk through my fingers. “He covered his eyes.”
Marie seals her lips, her facial muscles tightening like it’s an effort not to laugh. When she relaxes enough to talk, she says, “That bad, eh?”
“That bad,” I confirm. “He tried to grab my bikini top from the water without looking and give it back to me.”
Elly giggles, throwing her forearm over her eyes and patting the air in front of her. “I’m blind. Little K, your tits are brighter than the sun. Stop shining them in my face.”
“Little K?” Marie frowns. “That’s what he calls you?”
“Yeah, he has a nickname for her. Cute, eh?” Elly says, smiling. Then her eyes light up and, if it’s possible, the smile gets wider. “Did he give you that nickname before or after he saw your boobs?”
“Hey!” I cry, gesturing to my breasts, which are at least medium-sized, and definitely don’t warrant the diminutive nickname.
Elly’s giggling so hard now she’s holding her stomach. I’m laughing too, but mostly out of shame. Marie’s glancing between the two of us like we’re crazy.
After a few minutes, Elly’s laughter has run out of steam, and she slides back into her seat opposite me. “When was the last time you had sex?”
The change of topic throws me for a loop. “Eh?”
“I remember when.” Marie picks a cube of ice out of the ice bucket and pops it into her mouth, speaking around it. “It was that chap she met in Cornwall last summer. Said it was the worst sex she’d ever had. No orgasms. Not even nearly.”
“Actually, that was the summer before last,” I admit.
Marie whistles. “Fuck, Kate. What’s that? Two years? Your pussy must have cobwebs in it.”
I give an exaggerated gasp, grab a fistful of ice and chuck it across the table at her. She raises her hands and squeals, then does the same to me. Ice skitters all over the table, and we both laugh. The alcohol is doing its work, my blood running hot with it and a wooziness dripping through my awareness, softening the edges.
“You have to spring clean. Have a proper dusting session,” Elly smirks at me, but then her eyes flash over at the bar and she grabs my wrist. “Oh my god,” she hisses. “It’s Michael Drayton.” She’s staring at a tall, blond man by the bar, dressed in a white t-shirt and low-slung blue jeans.
“Michael who?” Marie asks.
Elly quivers with excitement, so eager to get her words out that she stammers before she’s able to string a sentence together properly. “Drayton. Michael Drayton. He’s the lead in those new action movies. You must have seen the adverts on the side of the buses.” She spreads her hands wide through the air as if she’s imagining seeing the posters before her. “He’s shirtless and running at the camera, a huge explosion happening behind him? One of the best bodies in Hollywood. Totally ripped.”
“Oh, right, him,” Marie says, looking utterly disinterested, and no wonder; she’s completely besotted with her boyfriend, Kevin.
“I have an idea,” Elly says, and before we can stop her, she slips away from the table and marches up to Michael Drayton and introduces herself. Marie and I watch, amazed, as Elly smiles and chatters, pointing over at us. Michael turns in our direction, shooting cut-glass cheekbones and blue-eyes in our direction.
“Wow, he is gorgeous,” Marie whispers, turning googly-eyed.
Elly skips back towards us, a satisfied smile on her face. “He’s coming over. Bringing shots.”
A nervous void opens in my stomach. “What?”
She nods. “Yup. He’s the one you should spring clean with.” She feigns a swoon, pressing the back of one hand to her forehead. “Dreamy. What a way to break the dry spell.”
Before I can object, Michael Drayton saunters over with a tray of shots, which he sets down on our table before sitting down next to me. I’m not usually one to get star-struck, but when the biggest name in Hollywood is sitting so close your thighs are touching under the table, it’s hard not to react.
“Evening, ladies,” he says. “Elly tells me you’re all big fans.”
I nearly laugh at this, but Elly shoots me a ‘ shut up ’ look, which is somewhat justified. Who doesn’t know who Michael Drayton is?
“I’m not a fan,” I say, and although I mean it, it sounds like I’m flirting.
An array of emotions flit over his handsome face, finally settling on pleasantly amused. “Is that so?” He doesn’t wait for a response before he hands me a shot. “Vodka,” he announces.
I take it from him. “I haven’t eaten.”
He laughs, and I can’t deny that his laugh, and the way his eyes sparkle, is very appealing. “Eating is cheating,” he says, in a husky voice.
Before I know it, I’m clinking my vodka shot against his and we down them simultaneously.
He smacks his lips and sets his glass down, staring right at me when he says, “You’re the green traffic light.”
At first, I don’t know what he’s talking about, and then it clicks. Our tops . Marie’s is red, because she has a boyfriend. Elly’s is gold—or amber—and mine is absolutely green.
Horrified, I stare at Elly. “I’m a green traffic light?”
She pushes another shot into my hand, tipping my elbow to coax the glass to my lips. “Yes. You’re available. You’re green. Very green,” she says emphatically, then looks at Michael and adds, “Green means go.”
Michael tips back his head and laughs, and he really is handsome, but I feel none of the flutters I feel with Nico.
But Nico’s not here, and I shouldn’t be having any kind of feelings for him, anyway. Maybe a fling with a handsome movie star is just what I need to push Nico out of my mind for good.
“Let’s drink to that,” Michael says.
“Let’s.” I take another shot, slamming the empty glass on the table.