3
Nothing. That’s what he says.
For what feels like an hour, he says nothing. Just stands there looking at me, and now I’m scared it’s not in a sexy ‘feeling me up with his eyes’ kind of way, and more like he thinks I’m the craziest person he’s ever met. Time to activate escape number two of the night.
‘Okay, well don’t sound too enthusiastic about it.
Forget I said anything, and I’ll be on my way.
Thanks again for your help,’ I say, pushing off the bed and taking long strides to the door.
I decide in this moment I care more about leaving quickly than getting my top back, considering that it’s likely ruined anyway.
Only I’m forced to stop when I collide with his arm, which he’s thrust out to the side to block my exit.
His expression is unreadable as his teeth bite at the inside of his cheek.
He opens his mouth like he might be about to speak, but then he drops his head, slowly rolling his neck until he’s directing his words at the ceiling.
‘This was… not where I was expecting my evening to go.’
He bends his head down towards me, and there’s a new intensity to those brown eyes that makes me think he might be considering it. He squeezes them shut, and I feel the moment breaking, but then a tortured groan ripples from his throat.
‘Fuck it,’ he says, shaking his head before it dips down towards me, and I don’t register what’s happening until his lips crash into mine.
I kiss him back, and then it’s all a blur as he moves me backwards, his hands wrapping around my thighs as he lifts me up onto the chest of drawers I was leaning against only a few minutes ago, the handles rattling when he lowers me down.
He steps in closer, his knee pushing my legs apart until he’s positioned between them, while his mouth moves from my lips to my neck. Teeth grazing the bottom of my ear.
‘I—’ I try to speak but my voice cracks as he kisses the skin at the top of my collarbone.
‘I never asked your name,’ I manage to get out.
His tongue sweeps over the sensitive patches of my skin before he pulls away enough for me to see his face.
‘Rory,’ he says, unwrapping one of his hands from my legs so he can shift backwards, presenting me with a view of his sadly still clothed torso. ‘And you are?’
‘Lottie,’ I say, my voice coming out all fluttery as I take in what’s happening right now, and where it’s likely going next.
‘Lottie.’ He says the two syllables slowly, and everything becomes still as we take a second to consider the new knowledge of the other’s name. The moment hangs between us, sweet, but I begin to grow impatient for more.
‘Now can you please go back to what you were doing a second ago, although preferably with less clothing?’
I playfully pull at the bottom of his T-shirt, a grey one in the same style as the one I’ve borrowed. He obliges, tugging it off in one go, exposing his bare chest.
‘Oh my god,’ I say as soon as the shirt hits the floor, no filter between my thoughts and what comes out of my mouth.
But I’m not embarrassed because, are you kidding me?
I’ve figured out how he can afford this house now.
This guy must be a model, or a porn star.
There’s no way a guy with abs like that would have a day job that requires clothing.
It would be a disservice to women everywhere to be deprived of a glimpse of this.
I can’t resist poking the muscles that line every patch of skin.
‘This isn’t real, right? Have you used contour on this?’
Having now run my hands all over it to check, I can confirm nothing smudges and it’s very much real.
‘Your turn,’ he says.
‘No, I think I’m good actually.’
He exhales playfully, amused as both his hands move to grip my waist.
‘I think you’re forgetting I’ve practically seen what’s underneath already, that white top didn’t hide anything. And if it makes you feel better, I liked what I saw. A lot.’
‘Yeah well, now it’s all perfectly hidden away underneath your porn-star shirt and I’m happy for it to stay that way.’
‘My what?’
I realise I’ve let another idle thought slip free and I rush to do something that will avoid me being forced into an explanation.
‘Okay fine, you win,’ I huff, hands thrown up in surrender. ‘But before I take this off may I remind you that I am a normal person, not one who clearly goes to the gym five times a day and lives off nothing but green juice drinks.’
Although I know that’s a lie because he was literally eating a McDonald’s when I collided with him, yet he still has a body like this. Oh, to have his genetics.
I pull my hair band out of the bunched-up fabric and slowly lift the T-shirt over my head.
Once it lies on the floor beside me, Rory’s eyes begin to roam over me, and I feel goosebumps prickle my skin.
He takes a step closer, his head dipping and his lips travelling down my neck, moving gradually lower and lower.
My head tips back against the wall, lost in the feeling of his lips on my skin. I push my hands through his hair, messing it up as his mouth moves from one side of my chest to the other. My eyes flutter open, and in the gap previously blocked by his head, it comes into view again.
That painting of the stupid snow-capped mountain range.
‘Everything okay? Do you want me to stop?’
I don’t realise until Rory speaks that I must’ve tensed up.
‘No, god no. It’s just…’
I trail off, not knowing where to look and not wanting him to catch the emotions that are likely splashed all over my face at the thoughts the painting has brought up.
I try to avoid both him and it, but the former becomes impossible when I feel his thumb hooking under my chin and lifting my face towards his. He scans over me, frowning at whatever he sees.
‘Okay, well, something clearly is wrong. We can talk about it or not, whatever you want, but either way you’re coming with me.’
‘Coming with you? Coming with you whe— oh!’
He lifts me off the chest of drawers with ease, one hand supporting my waist as I instinctively wrap myself around him.
He carries me down the stairs, and I drop my head into the gap between his shoulder and jaw.
I hear the skittering of paws as we enter the kitchen, and Rory swings around to place me on top of the island that stands in the middle of the room.
He places the same black T-shirt I was wearing earlier on the surface next to me, and I pull it over my head as he moves away, opening cupboards until a mug and a box of peppermint tea appear.
Neither of us says anything as he fills up and flicks on the kettle before pouring boiling water over the tea bag and carrying it over to me.
I take it wordlessly, feeling the steam brushing against my nose.
It’s funny how I was trying to avoid a night at home with a cup of tea, and now here I am doing exactly that. But at least I’m not doing it at Tilly’s, and I have company. Company that now has a name.
Rory.
I sound out his name in my head, debating whether I would’ve been able to guess it.
‘What sort of music do you like?’
His voice cuts through my thoughts and I realise I’ve been staring. The question throws me, and I come out with the first thing I can think of.
‘Musicals.’
I cringe after the word leaves my mouth, wishing I’d taken a second to think of something cooler, but he doesn’t laugh. Instead, he types something into his phone, and before long the first notes of a Waitress song are echoing around the kitchen.
‘What is all this?’ I ask, gesturing to the cup of tea in my hands as well as around the room, which has a mysteriously well-hidden sound system.
‘You seemed upset, so I’m trying to make you feel more comfortable.’ He shrugs, and I haven’t had a one-night stand before, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t how they normally go. Neither of us say anything for a while, but I’m surprised at how unawkward it feels.
‘You want to talk about what’s going on?’ he asks, his body leaning back against the countertop.
‘Why? So you can pity me?’
‘I was hoping more so we can talk it through then I can carry you back upstairs and fuck you,’ he casually replies, like he’s stated the weather.
I’m shocked again, words dying on my lips, so I look down at the mug in my hands to compose myself and mutter, ‘This was so not part of the plan.’
Rory shifts and scratches the back of his neck.
Warily, he starts, ‘If I did anything to upset you, I’m sorry. I thought you wanted to—’
‘Oh, god no, that’s not – you didn’t—’
I fumble as I try to reassure him, realising I’m going to have to tell him the truth to stop him from thinking he’s overstepped in any way.
I came onto him so strongly it would be no wonder if he was confused, and the last thing I want is him feeling bad over something totally out of his control.
I put the cup of tea down on the counter beside me and clasp my hands together in my lap.
‘You really want to know what’s wrong? It was that painting you have above your bed. The snowy one, of the mountains in the Alps or something.’
His features pinch in confusion, and I resign myself to the fact I’ll have to keep going, because that admission alone will make no sense to him.
‘I’m going there tomorrow. The Alps, I mean. We’ve had this ski holiday booked for forever. Me, Tilly, David, a couple of others and… Adam.’ I pause before I say his name, swallowing down the lump that’s crawled up my throat.
‘It was supposed to be fun, until Adam and I “broke up” two weeks ago.’ I carry on, doing air quotations for those two words. Rory’s puzzled expression remains, so I elaborate even though it would probably be best if I stopped.
‘It’s not that uncommon for us; he’ll get in his head about something, convince himself he can’t be in a relationship right now, we’ll break up because he’s decided that’s the best thing for me, but it’s more of a “break” and usually only lasts a few days or maybe a week.
Before long he’s apologising and begging me to take him back, blah blah blah… ’
I try to act nonchalant and go to take a sip of my tea, but the steam burns my lips. I lower my mug and notice Rory frowning.
‘And you do? Take him back, I mean?’
I shrug. ‘Usually.’
‘Usually?’ Rory echoes back at me. ‘Something different this time?’
‘Well…’ I deliberate whether to lie, wanting to make the moment sound less awful than it was, but I realise it doesn’t matter what picture I paint of Adam or our relationship here.
I’m minimising it, knowingly omitting all the good sides of Adam that are very much there, but it’s not as if Rory’s ever going to meet him.
‘What’s different is that this was the first time I’d come back to our flat post break-up and found him sleeping with a girl from work in our bed. Classy, right?’
I laugh so I don’t cry, trying to shove the image out of my head from that night I found them together.
I’d been coming back to the flat to pick up some of my stuff to take to Tilly’s.
I was ‘moving out’, but I’d ‘moved out’ three times before and always ended up coming back home.
I thought this time was the same, but I guess I was wrong.
‘So now I’ve got a two-week holiday in the middle of nowhere with a twat-head I’d rather not see right now, but I can’t back out because it was really expensive and I’ve booked the time off work and they’re my friends too and if anyone should not go it’s him.
‘And tonight I wanted to not think about that and try and be spontaneous and have some great sex, or maybe even average – I’d take average – but I end up at a guy’s house who has an homage to the Alps in his bedroom so now I can’t stop thinking about it and—’
I stop when my throat closes up and, oh my god. Am I crying?
This can’t be happening. I lift the mug up again and take a few scalding-hot sips to try and play off that I’m thirsty and not struggling to speak because I’m crying over my ex like a loser when I’ve got one of Britain’s sexiest men in front of me. Like, totally top ten.
He’s going to think I’m crazy, if he didn’t already – I practically jumped him after knowing him for all of two minutes, only to then have a breakdown.
God, I’m not made for this casual fling thing, what was I thinking?
I’m about to leap off the side of the island and bolt when Rory’s hand brushes my cheek, catching a tear.
‘You know, if the painting is the only problem, I have other bedrooms.’
I laugh at that and am grateful as I remember again that he lives alone in a Clapham townhouse.
I take a sip of my tea, before placing the mug behind me and wrapping my arms back around his neck.
If he can overlook the last two minutes, I know I’d rather stay here and find out where the night could go instead of getting back on the sweaty tube.
‘Well, as long as they don’t have skis in them either, lead the way, Rory.’
He gives me a funny look before lifting me clean off the countertop as he takes me towards one of the doors off the hallway. I giggle as his hands grip my ass where he holds me up, happy to forget my already dried tears as he kicks open the door.
Maybe this night can be salvaged after all.