CHAPTER TEN
TEN
Whoops, that was never meant to happen – can we pretend it never did?
– from ‘The Mistake’, by These Exiles
‘JUST ONE MORE DRINK!’ Anna begged as I glanced at my phone and saw it was near midnight. ‘Come on, it’s Friday night!’
It was Friday night, and it had been a damned long day. Once I’d got settled in the hotel Derek had arranged for me after the ‘date of epic complications’ – as Laura and Anna had dubbed it – I had taken to completely avoiding Patrick. Again.
A little difficult, when I was supposed to be dating him. Even more difficult when I could not stop thinking about a kiss that wasn’t actually a kiss but maybe should have been a kiss. And practically impossible when your sister and best friend kept sending you trending videos about him.
Him, and you.
‘One more drink and one more video!’ Anna giggled, pulling out her phone and scrolling rapidly.
Laura groaned. She was sitting opposite the two of us as we lounged in the bar that had been our favourite since we’d first moved into our old flat. ‘Please, God –’
‘He’s not listening to you right now, so you better listen to me.’ Anna grinned as I tried my best to pretend I wasn’t at all intrigued to see what video she was going to show me. ‘Look at this!’
The moment I saw the opening frame, I knew.
Oh, fuck.
My heart fluttered, pulse racing as I watched a tiny, slightly blurry version of myself step forward in a green dress that admittedly made my boobs and butt look incredible, press a kiss upon Patrick Tetlow’s cheek, get pulled against his chest as he appeared to whisper sweet nothings into my ear, then stride away from him.
And that was it. That was it!
‘First kiss!’ Anna crowed, waving her porn star martini at me. ‘How was it?’
‘It was a kiss on the cheek, you idiot,’ I countered, trying to ignore the margarita the waiter had just placed before me. ‘I didn’t order –’
‘From the ladies over there,’ the waiter said with a grin. ‘They said, and I quote, “For the girl who’s bedding Patrick Tetlow.”’
My face could have heated a kettle as Anna collapsed into giggles and Laura craned her neck to look.
‘Which girls? Do you think I should talk to them about Butterflies?’ Laura’s one-track mind was no better with alcohol coursing through her system.
‘No,’ Anna and I said in unison as we pushed my twin back into her seat.
I glanced at the margarita. ‘Do you think this is safe to drink?’
You could never be too careful, right? Even if the girls did look normal enough.
‘Absolutely not,’ Anna said firmly. ‘Excuse me – yes, excuse me.’
I watched, amused, as my bestie argued with the waiter about making a fresh drink.
Laura nudged my shoulder, pulling my attention back to her. ‘So, seriously. Kissing Patrick Tetlow. What was it like?’
What was it like?
Like … like nothing I had ever felt before.
Like my whole body was buzzing with electricity just from being so near to him.
Like the way he whispered to me, and only me, was my own private These Exiles concert.
And after that, he’d just stood there and done nothing – well, he’d pulled me closer for a moment, a heartbeat, but then it had been over.
A secret part of me had wanted him to pull me in tighter, longer, turn the innocent kiss into something not so chaste.
But he had done none of that. He hadn’t called out to me – like in one of those cheesy romcoms when the hot guy chases after the heroine on a deserted street in the rain.
It hadn’t even been raining. And nowhere in this city was ever deserted. And he hadn’t followed me.
But I’d wanted him to. And that scared me.
‘It was fine.’ Maybe if I kept saying that, it would become true. ‘It wasn’t even a real kiss.’ I needed the reminder as much as they did.
‘So, you’re not … you know …’
‘In lurrrve –’ the two said in unison. They could be so annoying when they wanted to be.
‘Come on!’ I exclaimed as the waiter brought over the fresh margarita. ‘Thanks.’ I took a sip, to avoid the inquisition taking place.
‘We’re just saying, he’s gorgeous,’ Laura said, raising her voice as the bar’s music increased in volume.
‘And rich,’ Anna said, winking like a pantomime dame.
‘And you’ve always fancied him,’ added Laura, like that was the be all and end all.
I groaned. ‘Is this all you two can think about?’
Seriously, when was the last time we’d talked about something other than my bullshit relationship?
‘It just looked like you were having a good time, that’s all,’ my twin answered, and I couldn’t deny it.
I was starting to have a good time. With Patrick.
Was the room really hot, or were these drinks super strong? ‘He’s just – Patrick is – I like him.’
I did. There was no point arguing against it when I’d spent all morning looking at the photos from the previous night.
I couldn’t remember the last time a man had looked at me like that.
Like there was nothing else in the world but me.
Did Patrick know what his face was giving away?
Or maybe he was just that good an actor?
I had seen first-hand the mask he pulled over his face for the cameras.
Maybe this was all just part of his performance. Maybe none of it was real.
It didn’t matter. It was already starting to feel real to me.
‘Like him? Oh girl, just admit you want inside his pants!’ Brushing her box braids away from her eyes, Anna reached into her handbag, grabbed the tequila she always brought on a night out, and tipped a far too generous measure into my margarita.
‘Down it!’ She grinned. ‘For tonight, let’s try to forget guys, forget work and forget dating apps that take up way too much of your time –’ Anna threw a pointed look at Laura.
‘Hey!’
‘– and let’s just hang. We’re only young once!’
‘Young and hot,’ Laura corrected as she lifted her glass of wine.
‘Young, hot and famous,’ I said with a grin, lifting my own, now intensely alcoholic, margarita.
Anna raised her glass and tapped it against ours. ‘Clink, clink, bitch!’
And … the rest of the night was a blur.
WHEN I WOKE UP, face down in my pillow with last night’s make-up crusted around my eyes, the low moan I uttered earned nothing but silence from my hotel room.
‘Arrghhh.’ I tried to force myself to sit up, but my tongue felt like velvet and my shoulder ached.
When the fuck had I hurt my shoulder? What was I, fifty?
I tried to recall the rest of my night with the girls, but only snippets came to mind. Hopping from bar to bar … stumbling back to the hotel … picking up my phone to message –
Oh, shit.
Scrabbling to find my phone in my rumpled duvet and eventually locating it in my right sandal by the bedroom door, I scrolled down the messages I’d sent last night.
Oh, shit shit shit –
Paddy
So, we’re on for eleven tomorrow, right?
Jessy
Anything for you, king!
Paddy
What?
Paddy
You OK?
OK. Not the worst case of drunk texting.
Wait.
Eleven?
I looked at the clock on the top left of my screen and groaned.
Yup, I was going to be late.
‘YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO be here at eleven,’ said Patrick as I skidded to a halt just before him – my hands on my ribs, lungs pulling in as much oxygen as they could, my cross-body bag somehow still attached to me. ‘That was thirty minutes ago –’
‘I know – I’m sorry –’ I really needed to get into the gym. Panting like this was not OK. ‘So,’ I wheezed. ‘What – what’s the plan?’
He hadn’t shared much about what our next outing would be. My hangover was fading fast thanks to the large coffee I’d inhaled before I left the hotel, but I wasn’t sure I had the strength to do more than just smile in a corner today.
Did he need me to smile in a corner?
‘We’re attending a lunch with my record label,’ Patrick said with a sigh. ‘They throw a fancy midday shindig every year, ahead of awards season. For all their artists.’
I paused, waiting for my brain to kick in before asking, ‘If the lunch starts at midday, why did you ask me to meet you here at eleven?’
‘Because first I want us to do that.’ He pointed to a sign behind us.
Thanks to the coffee now coursing through my veins, it took me a moment to focus on the words.
Abseiling. Abseiling?
‘You cannot be serious!’ There was not enough money in the world –
‘What?’ A slow smile spread across his face. ‘You’ve never wanted to launch yourself off a building?’
Was that supposed to be a rhetorical question?
‘I like the ground,’ I said firmly. ‘Besides, we have this lunch –’
‘Look, instead of just going from one contractual obligation to another, I figured we should actually do something fun for once,’ Patrick said, a wry smile lifting his lips.
‘Fun?’ I repeated, trying to take it in.
‘Yes, Jessy. Fun. Have you ever heard of the concept?’
Fun. Falling from a building?
I was starting to get whiplash from all the sides of Patrick I was being introduced to. Spontaneous, teasing Patrick was a new personality … but one that was winning me over.
‘So … we’re not going to have lunch with your record label?’ I asked, glancing up at the tall building we were standing beside. I couldn’t tell if my head was pounding from last night’s antics or from the imminent death that awaited me.
‘Nah,’ said Patrick, his smile smaller, but still there. ‘I mean, we’ll still have lunch with them, but we’ll be fashionably late.’
It was the easy way he took my hand. It was the way my skin warmed to his – the way his fingers felt right, solid, in my palm.
As though his hand should have always been there.
I found myself nodding, almost without thought. Anna was always telling me I needed to make the most of this experience. Perhaps it was time to start listening.
As we stepped into the lobby, a guy wearing sunglasses – indoors? – waved us towards a lift.
‘So, do you take all your girlfriends here?’ I teased, trying not to be so conscious of my hand in his. ‘Abseiling?’