Chapter Thirty-Three Lee
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lee
‘Oh my god!’ Tara squeals. ‘You slept together!’
‘Shhh!’ I glance around the thankfully quiet coffee shop.
In my short time here I’ve learned that gossip spreads like wildfire in Roseport and I’ll admit this is particularly juicy gossip.
If I’m not careful, Rita will be passing the news out with her ice cream sundaes and people will be high-fiving me in the street.
‘Sorry,’ Tara whispers, eyeing me over the top of her latte. ‘But also not sorry. Finally!’
I manage a smile. Honestly, it’s been three hours and I haven’t even started to recover my equilibrium.
My body feels achy and used in the best possible way, my heart rate has yet to return to normal.
The shower that I had before driving over to meet Tara hasn’t washed the smell of Nico off me, and I swear I can still taste him.
Someone once told me that you can get hooked on heroin the first time you use it.
Well, I get it now. All I can think about is having sex with Nico.
My body still hums with the force of what we did, but I want it again. And again. And again.
I don’t know how to sit in a coffee shop and hold a conversation. I don’t know how to be around people. I don’t know how I’m just supposed to function like a normal human being anymore.
‘Was it amazing?’ Tara asks.
‘It was… He… We…’ I trail off, unable to find the words and gazing hopelessly at her.
‘Woah,’ Tara says reverently, and I nod.
‘Yeah. Woah.’
‘Okay, tell me everything.’ She settles in and I give her a brief recap of events, the tasteful highlights, only occasionally losing my train of thought.
‘Holy shit,’ Tara hisses. ‘Right on the desk? That’s so fucking hot.’
‘I know,’ I nod, taking a long sip of the chamomile tea I ordered in the hope it would calm me down.
‘So you just, like, pounced on him? I’m so proud!’
‘I went there to talk to him,’ I say. ‘I really did. But when I got there…’
‘What?’
‘He was on the floor, fixing things.’
‘Oh no.’ Her eyes widen.
‘And he was… he was wearing… a plaid shirt.’ I sound desperate.
Tara puts her cup down with a clink. ‘With the sleeves rolled up?’
I nod. It had been a disaster. It was like walking into some sort of soft porn film made specifically for the female gaze.
She reaches across for my hand and squeezes it. ‘Babe, there was simply nothing else you could do in the circumstances. You’re only lucky he wasn’t wearing the tool belt as well or you’d probably be knocked up by now.’
‘Tara!’ I exclaim and she giggles.
‘Although maybe not, seeing as you’re apparently the queen of prophylactics. Tell me again how you went over there to “talk” with a pocket full of condoms.’
‘Obviously I was planning to seduce him if the opportunity presented itself,’ I huff. ‘Last night you told me I needed to be clear and direct. I was being responsible.’
‘Sounds like there wasn’t much seduction required.’ Tara’s grin widens.
I feel a matching smile slip over my own face. ‘Not really.’
‘Okay, you’re starting to lose the scary eyes. Welcome back to planet earth.’ She holds up her mug in a small toast. ‘So I take it you two didn’t actually get around to having the talk?’
‘No, we only just managed to get our clothes back on before Magda turned up.’
I flush at the memory. Thank god she hadn’t been ten minutes earlier when I’d been transcending the boundaries of the observable universe and having an orgasm so intense I think I sprained muscles I didn’t know I had.
Magda didn’t seem to catch on to what she’d walked in on, but she did keep talking about the incredible energy in the room, and fussed at length over the sex-desk, which is apparently some sort of priceless antique.
I shot Nico an appalled glance at this, but he only looked smug. I suppose it was a very sturdy piece of craftsmanship.
‘Magda dropped by to ask him to take her to pick up some furniture in his truck, but he did say he’s going to take me out tonight so we can discuss… things.’
‘Like a date?’
I shrug. ‘He didn’t use the word date. He said dinner.’ What he actually said, once Magda finally left the room, was dinner somewhere public where we won’t be tempted to rip each other’s clothes off.
‘Sounds like a date to me.’
‘What are you two whispering about?’ Kat drifts over to clear the table beside us while there’s a lull at the counter. We’re currently her only customers and she looks grateful for the break.
‘Lee and Nico have a date tonight!’ Tara sings. ‘Guess who finally acted on our advice!’
Kat swings her attention towards me. ‘No!’ she says.
‘Yes,’ I nod.
The bell rings over the door.
‘Sorry, Clyde!’ Kat trills. ‘We’re closed.’
‘It’s four o’clock,’ Clyde grumbles, looking at his watch.
‘Fine, let me grab you your bran muffin, but we’re closing for the next hour.’ Kat hustles to the counter, popping a muffin in a paper bag and thrusting it at him. ‘This is a girl talk emergency.’
‘You don’t need to close the café for me,’ I say.
The look she gives me is scornful as she shoos Clyde out the door and slaps the ‘Closed’ sign in the window. She drops into the seat across from me, her phone already in her hand. ‘I’m texting Mei right now, but I can’t wait until she gets here. Tell me everything.’
That evening I stand in front of Nico’s bed, wrapped in a towel, deliberating over what to wear for this date-that-maybe-isn’t-a-date. At this point I have tried on and discarded every single item I have access to.
The tone that I need to set is very specific. I need to look casual! Unfazed by the extremely intense sex we had this morning! Ready to talk about what it means to be having sex when we are actually married and involved in an elaborate legal deception!
I know what I should wear – jeans. Jeans would say all of these things. Only I don’t own any and I don’t think a denim miniskirt is going to be the right call. I make a mental note to ask Kat to take me back to Target.
Tragically, staring at the clothes is not making a new and perfect outfit magically appear.
I’ve already worn pretty much everything here in differing combinations.
(I am a master at packing the capsule wardrobe, but even my ingenuity has been stretched by an unexpected three-week trip.) I wish Gran was here.
She’d throw together the perfect thing in five seconds flat, and I’d feel confident and right.
I experience a wave of sadness because we’ve barely spoken – only exchanged a few texts here and there, which isn’t like us at all. I know that physically she’s fine, but not what’s happening in her life. And for the first time ever she really hasn’t got a clue what’s going on in mine.
She’d probably get a kick out of it, actually.
I pick up my phone to text her, just to check in again and make sure she’s taking all her medication, that she’s feeling good. What I get back is a blurry photograph of her pill organiser next to a half-empty bottle of champagne. Still, at least today’s compartment looks to be empty.
I try not to fret over the fact I’m not there to keep an eye on her, that she’s still sending me snarky photos instead of an actual message.
Please don’t forget about your appointment with the GP on Wednesday, I text. That one gets no response at all, but I can tell she’s seen it. I suppose that will have to do.
With a sigh I turn back to my clothes, eventually settling on a soft, oversized cream jumper paired with buttery tan-coloured suede trousers.
I add some simple gold jewellery and understated makeup, pull my hair back into a loose braid, spritz myself with perfume, and it’s only taken around ninety minutes to make myself look like a human woman who hasn’t tried too hard. God, this is exhausting.
Unsure how to proceed at this point, I sink onto the edge of the bed and stare at the door. Through it, I can hear the low murmur of Nico and Phoebe’s voices, the soft hum of occasional laughter, like it’s just a regular evening.
I twist the small gold hoop in my ear and take a steady breath. So why am I sitting in here alone? What am I waiting for? Nico to knock on the door with a corsage?
It’s not even necessarily a real date, Lee, and it’s certainly not the bloody prom.
I take a deep breath and open the door.