by Paige Toon
That seems to take him aback. ‘You really don’t care?’ he asks with a frown.
‘Nope.’
‘Not even a little bit?’ He raises one eyebrow.
‘Not at all.’
‘Wait.’ He puts his bottle down firmly on a table behind him. ‘You’re telling me that you don’t even care a tiny, weeny little bit how many bridesmaids I’ve had sex with?’
His words make my head prickle a touch, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. ‘You can shag whoever you want,’ I say flippantly as my stomach clenches. I don’t really want him to shag whoever he wants. Why am I encouraging him to? I’m starting to think I have sadomasochistic tendencies.
He stares at me, no trace of a smile on his gorgeous lips. ‘So you wouldn’t care if I went over there right now and kissed her.’ He points at the bridesmaid he danced with earlier. ‘And took her home with me,’ he adds, leaning down to look me right in the eye.
I waver.
‘Shall I?’ he asks purposefully. I can barely hear his voice over the live band, but I can read his lips.
I look back up at his eyes and I swear the hot and cold flush that ensues is almost on a par with some of the ones I’ve had in various churches over the last few months. His blue eyes stare back at me, challenging me, his face inches from mine.
I’ve had too much to drink. I’m finding him obscenely attractive and his defiant attitude is turning me on.
‘Shall I?’ he asks again.
I ever-so-slightly shake my head.
‘No?’ He pulls back marginally to question me, but instead of waiting for my answer, he grabs my head and pulls my mouth onto his. I kiss him back, deepening our kiss instantly. Oh God, he is divine. He puts his hands to the small of my back and I become aware of us moving. Goosebumps spread across my skin as we emerge from the marquee into the cool night air. He wrenches himself away from me and gives me a look that is so damn sexual I go weak at the knees. He grabs my hand and stalks determinedly across the flat, smooth lawn. We reach a greenhouse and he goes inside, tugging me behind him. The smell of damp earth and tomatoes fills my senses and then he’s kissing me again. I push my fingers through his hair and hold his face steady as he hoiks my legs up around his waist and bumps me against the door.
‘Careful,’ I murmur into his open mouth, imagining us both crashing through the glass. His fingers find the zip on the back of my dress and then he’s sliding the straps off my shoulders and tugging down the front of my bra. As his lips seek out my nipple I throw my head back and gasp.
My head is so hazy. I feel delirious with desire and more than a little bit drunk. As his lips find mine again he lowers my feet to the ground and slides his hands up the inside of my skirt. His fingertips are just skimming the waistline of my knickers when it occurs to me to wonder just what the fuck it is that I am doing.
‘Lachie, no wait, stop,’ I say, trying to find his wrists so I can still his wandering fingers. He kisses my mouth again as though he doesn’t hear me. I turn my face away and grab his arms. ‘Stop,’ I say again, more firmly.
He breaks away from me, his breath coming in short, sharp gusts. ‘What the— What’s wrong?’
‘I can’t. Stop.’
He lets me go instantly and I quickly smooth my skirt down and hook my straps back over my shoulders.
‘You can’t stop?’ he asks. ‘Or you can’t. Stop.? I think you should work out exactly what message it is you’re sending, because those words can be taken two ways.’
He knows exactly what I mean, judging by the angry look on his face. He’s just being difficult.
Maybe angry is the wrong word. But he doesn’t look at all happy.
‘I’m sorry.’ I shake my head and wobble on my heels slightly as I try to zip up my dress. It isn’t easy. ‘My head’s all over the place and I know you know I have feelings for someone.’ I don’t want or need to say Alex’s name out loud. ‘I just can’t. I’ve had too much to drink. I’m confused.’ And I don’t want to have a fling with Lachie if I’m only going to end up getting hurt again. He’s too young, too flirty, too playful. I can’t imagine him in a serious relationship. Not that I want a serious relationship, but I don’t need to be having a one-night stand with him, either.
He scratches his head. ‘Shall we call it a night?’
I nod. ‘I think that might be a good idea.’
Forty minutes later after a tense taxi journey, we find ourselves standing in a room that is barely bigger than the double bed it’s accommodating. There’s certainly not room for a sofa.
‘I don’t know about you,’ he says, ‘but I’m sure as hell not sleeping on the floor.’
I give him a withering look.
‘I’m not,’ he says nonchalantly.
‘In that case, I will,’ I say.
‘Don’t be so pig-headed, Bronte,’ he snaps. ‘Jesus, I’m not going to fucking touch you if you don’t want me to.’
‘I don’t want you to,’ I say bluntly.
He glares at me and starts to unbutton his shirt. I catch a glimpse of his tanned, toned chest before I avert my gaze. ‘I’m going to get ready for bed,’ I say, heading into the bathroom with my overnight bag.
I’m too weary to even be angry at the girl I see staring back at me from the mirror. I change out of my clothes into my PJs and brush my teeth, not even bothering to take off my make-up. When I go back into the room, Lachie is lying on his side facing the wall. I slip between the sheets and switch off the light.
Chapter 18
I won’t switch it on. I daren’t make a sound. My fingers lightly trace the keys, darting left and right as the tune plays inside my head. I thought he’d be here, but he’s not. It’s quiet, so quiet. But I’m not scared. I’m never scared here.
Dad will be cross if he finds out I’ve come alone. But Mum is crying again and I’m so sick of seeing her cry. I needed to get out of the house. I needed to come here.
I hear a noise and my fingers freeze in position. I’m all ears as I listen for the noise again. It comes a second later, but I don’t know what it means. It’s a human sound. It sounds like someone is in pain. Fear clutching my stomach, I slowly rise to my feet. Half of my brain tells me to stay hidden, but the other half is overridden with curiosity. I peek slowly around the corner in the direction of the altar. A dark sickness overcomes me. I don’t know what I’m seeing, but I know what I’m seeing is wrong.
‘No!’ I jolt awake, gasping for air as a cold sweat rushes over me. I’m sitting up in bed and I can’t get enough oxygen into my lungs. There’s movement beside me in the darkness and out of the blue I remember where I am: in bed with Lachie.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks in a deep voice that is croaky from lack of sleep. It must be the middle of the night because it’s still pitch black outside from what I can tell.
‘Just a bad dream. It’s fine.’ I slump back onto my pillows and try to calm my breathing.
It was just a dream. Just a dream, I repeat inside my head.
Only some dreams are born out of reality.
There’s movement beside me and I think he’s rolling over onto his side again. It all comes back to me. Our kiss, well, kisses, and quite a lot else that went on between us, too. I’m such a screw-up. I’ve probably lost Lachie as a friend, and all because I couldn’t keep my stupid hands to myself.
I close my eyes and sigh heavily.
‘What was it about?’
His voice makes me jump. I thought he’d turned away from me, but he turned towards me instead.
‘Nothing,’ I murmur.
‘You shouted, “No”.’
‘Did I?’ He heard me?
‘Come here,’ he says and to my surprise he slides his arm underneath my shoulders and pulls me against him. His chest is bare and I tense up, but then I realise I haven’t lost him as a friend and that makes me relax. I rest my head in the crook of his arm and lay my right arm across his chest while he holds me snugly in place. He strokes my hair with his
left hand and after a while my breathing begins to regulate.
I fall back asleep like that, in his arms.
We must have broken apart in the night, because when I come to, I’m lying alone on my side of the bed. I glance across at him. He’s breathing slowly and steadily and is still in the depths of deep sleep. I turn away and stare morosely up at the ceiling.
I haven’t had that dream for a very long time. It must’ve been the organ. I shouldn’t have played the organ.
I climb out of bed and walk disconsolately into the bathroom. I can’t bear to look at myself as I pull a navy-blue and white maxi dress over my head and slip on some sandals. I need to get out of here. I need to clear my head.
Pausing at the door, I look at the sleeping figure of Lachie lying in the bed. The sheets have slipped away from him and I can clearly see the muscle definition on his broad back. He held me in the night when I needed comfort. I have a strange urge to return to the bed and slide my hand across his ribcage. I really need some fresh air.
I leave him a note:
Gone for a walk. B x
I take a chance on turning right as I come out of the B&B and set off down the country lane. It’s a beautiful, crisp sunny morning and soon the lane goes through open fields. Sunlight spills across the hills, highlighting the plough lines created by farmers’ tractors.
What a strange day yesterday was. I met Alex’s fiancée and I feel slightly sick about it. I’ve felt quite close to him recently, but now I just want to put a whole lot of distance between us. Zara’s not a faceless name any more, and I don’t like that, but it had to happen.
Then there was that whole thing with the organ – I still can’t believe I did that. I never thought I’d play an organ, ever again, let alone in a church with an audience. That could have gone so horribly wrong.
And then there was Lachie. I sigh heavily. What was I thinking? I was drunk. My throbbing head is proof of that. But that’s no excuse. He’s flirted with me for ages – he’s a flirt, that’s what he does. I don’t think I expected him to take it further, and I certainly didn’t think I’d let him. Did we almost have sex? It was him who kissed me, right? Or did I kiss him?
Embarrassment floods me and my face burns. Suddenly I want to run. I break into a jog down a wide dirt track cut right through a wheat field. The hill slopes downwards and I lift up my long dress and gather momentum as I go. It’s liberating. If anyone saw me they’d think I looked like a loony, running along through a field in a long dress like something out of a Jane Austen novel. The thought makes me laugh out loud, which makes me look even more crazy.
Eventually, I come to a stop and hunch over on the path, out of breath and completely unfit. There are cracks in the soil that are so wide and deep it’s almost like the whole world is splitting apart. I stare into the depths of the darkest cracks and imagine seeing right through to Australia. I’m suddenly overcome with homesickness and out of the blue, I burst into tears. I’m completely alone, no one will see me, no one will hear me cry. And as far as I can tell, that’s a good thing. I force myself to keep walking, even though I’m a blubbering mess. I should call my mum. I’ve been avoiding her for so long, ringing only on Saturday evenings when I know she’ll be out. I always leave a message, telling her I’m really busy and that I’ll try her again another time. I never, ever do.
I sniff and wipe away my snot, the thought making me feel morose rather than sad. I wish Maria were here. She’d have a tissue.
I haven’t seen her for ages. I know she’s still seeing Russ, but he tends to go and stay with her in Golders Green, rather than her coming into town. I have a wedding next weekend which she’s doing too, so we’ll catch up soon enough. I assume things are still going well between her and my Hebe colleague.
I take a left when I come to another field, figuring I’ll walk a triangle back to the B&B. I set off uphill. Spider webs shine in the light, and the long, silky threads twist and shimmer in the breeze as they drift across overgrown blades of dew-crystallised grass. I stomp along the path, wrecking tiny homes and habitats as I go. I’ve calmed down by the time I’ve reached the top of the hill. I pause for a moment and breathe in the fresh air while staring at the view, and then I set off on the last leg of my triangle, back to the B&B. I’m walking along, humming to myself, when I see a dark figure on the other side of the hedge. I nearly jump out of my skin. The figure stops walking in the other direction and turns to look at me through the foliage.
‘You scared the shit out of me!’ I exclaim, seeing Lachie’s eyes staring at me.
He grins. ‘Sorry.’
‘What are you doing?’ I ask him.
‘Felt like a walk myself.’
‘Oh. Did you?’
‘Yeah. How do I get to you?’ He indicates the hedge.
I smile and point back to where I’ve just come. I passed a gap a moment ago. I wait for him to join me.
‘All good?’ he asks with a grin, his light blue eyes twinkling as he catches up to me.
I’m relieved. This is not going to be weird.
‘So I finally got into your bed but not into your knickers,’ he says.
I spoke too soon.
I hit his chest and he laughs and wraps his arm around me. ‘Just kidding, Bronnie. You alright?’ He peers down at me with amusement.
‘Yeah.’ I shrug. We set off along the path, but my thoughts are jumbled. Eventually I can’t keep them to myself. ‘What were you planning on doing, anyway? Were you just going to shag me without any thought of protection?’
‘No, I carry a condom in my wallet.’ He frowns as if to say, ‘Duh!’
‘Of course you do,’ I mutter, slipping out of his embrace.
‘What? Are you having a go at me now?’ he asks incredulously. ‘For practising safe sex?’
‘Not at all,’ I say smoothly. ‘I’m sure you practise safe sex a lot.’
‘So now you’re accusing me of being easy.’ He grins down at me.
‘Aren’t you?’ I don’t smile back.
‘Depends on your definition,’ he says cheekily.
I tut. ‘I can’t believe I let you kiss me,’ I mutter.
He steps in front of me on the path, catching my hips at the same time to bring me to a stop. ‘Do you want to do it again?’ he asks sexily, staring down at me.
The bastard’s question makes my face heat up.
‘Would you cut it out?’ I snap, shoving him to one side and storming off.
‘I’m just teasing,’ he calls as he hurries after me.
‘Well, don’t. I’m not in the mood.’
He puts his hands in his pockets.
‘So... Yesterday was bizarre,’ he says.
I half laugh. ‘You’re telling me.’
‘Do you really have a church phobia?’
I’d completely forgotten I’d told him that. I try to appear unbothered. ‘I don’t like them, no.’
‘I thought you were having me on, but you knew the name for it and everything.’
‘Ecclesiophobia.’ Pause. ‘I might have been exaggerating about having a full-on phobia, but I definitely don’t like churches.’
He studies me thoughtfully as we walk.
‘How did you learn to play the organ?’ I know he’s confused. Will it really hurt to tell him?
‘My dad taught me.’
‘Your dad?’
‘He was a church organist.’
‘Was he? Wow.’ He falls silent, but not for long. ‘I thought you were freaked out about meeting Alex’s chick.’
I snort, relaxing slightly. ‘It wasn’t the most fun thing I’ve ever done,’ I admit, even though I totally brought it on myself.
His expression softens as he glances at me, and then he pulls me in for another hug. I let him.
Breakfast is being served when we reach the B&B, so we go straight into the small dining room. Alex and Zara are sitting at a table by the window and the sight makes my heart hurt a little.
‘Morning,’ Alex says
with a smile, looking over at us.
‘G’day,’ Lachie replies.
‘Hi,’ Zara and I say at the same time. She’s wearing skinny blue jeans and a pristine white jumper and her blonde hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail. She takes a sip of her tea from a china teacup and gently places it back on the saucer. The room is filled with the gentle clatter of cutlery and crockery.
Lachie pulls out a chair for me at a spare table and sits down opposite me. I’m surprised by his chivalry, but I fight the impulse to tease him.
‘Good night?’ Alex asks us.
I can’t help glancing at Lachie. ‘Yeah,’ I reply with a shrug, willing my face to stay the same colour. ‘You?’
‘Pretty good, yeah,’ he replies.
‘Are you feeling better?’ I ask Zara, trying to be friendly.
‘Hmm?’ She looks confused. Alex gives her a look. ‘Oh, I’m fine,’ she brushes me off.
Esther and her boyfriend join us. ‘Good morning,’ Esther says brightly, taking a seat at the table next to us. ‘How’s everyone feeling?’
‘Well, I have a headache,’ I reply ruefully.
‘Oh dear,’ she says sympathetically. ‘Have you got any ibuprofen?’
‘No.’
‘I have. I’ll get them for you after breakfast.’
‘Thanks.’ I smile at her.
The B&B owner comes over to take our order and then goes back to the kitchen.
‘What time are we setting off today?’ Esther asks Alex.
‘Soon, if that’s alright?’ he replies.
‘Sure. How are you guys getting back to London?’ she asks Lachie and me.
‘Taxi to the station, then train.’
‘What happened to you last night?’ she asks with a frown. ‘Mike was looking for you. He wanted to see if you needed a lift back here.’
‘Oh, did he? That was nice of him,’ I say innocently, trying to ignore the smirk on Lachie’s lips. I purposefully press my foot onto his toes under the table. He sniggers, which doesn’t help.
Later, on the train, he and I sit side by side facing the direction of travel. He has his arm around me in his usual laid-back, comfortable manner and I’m leaning into him, feeling incredibly content.
