by Dunn, Matt
‘And they say romance is dead . . .’
He stuck his tongue out at her, then gently took her by the shoulders. ‘Ready,’ he said, a little more softly this time, then he leaned in and kissed Lisa briefly on the lips. ‘There,’ he said, awkwardly taking a step back, nearly tripping over the coffee table in the process. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’
‘Is that the best you can do?’
‘Huh?’
‘I’m not your grandmother.’
‘I don’t kiss my grandmother on the lips!’
‘That’s not exactly what I meant, Simon.’
‘Sorry. And got you. I just thought . . .’
Lisa took a half-step closer to him. ‘Maybe the secret is not to think.’
‘Okay. Don’t think. Got it. Mmph!’
Lisa had placed a hand on the back of his neck and gently pulled his head down so their lips met, and Simon allowed himself to enjoy the sensation for a few seconds. Then he broke away, a startled look on his face.
‘There,’ said Lisa, as if she’d just administered a measles inoculation to a nervous child. ‘Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?’
‘No, it was . . .’ Simon gazed down at her, his eyes darting alternately to each of hers, and for the first time he noticed how beautiful they were – such a deep green, slightly brown around the pupils, as if they’d just begun to change colour, like a leaf at the beginning of autumn. ‘Nice.’
Lisa smiled coyly. ‘Nice?’
‘But . . .’
Her smile suddenly faded, as if a switch had been flicked. ‘But what?’
She hadn’t moved – her body was still only inches from his – and Simon didn’t know what came over him, but before he could stop himself, he’d taken her hands in his. ‘I can do better.’
‘Pardon?’
‘I can do better. So we really have something to write about.’
‘Okay.’
He frowned down at her. ‘Sorry – was that an “okay” giving me permission, or an “okay” just acknowledging . . . ?’ When Lisa didn’t answer, he gently pulled her closer. ‘Never mind,’ he said, then he angled his head down, placed his mouth lightly on hers and closed his eyes, responding in kind when he felt her tongue softly probing his lips. Letting go of her hands, he took her in his arms and pressed his body against hers, revelling in the sensation of having someone so close, realising he’d missed this so much. Lisa had been right. She was a good kisser. At least, she certainly wouldn’t be getting any complaints from him.
When, finally, he tentatively opened his eyes again, he found Lisa looking up at him. ‘Wow,’ he said, and by the sudden look of delight on her face, he knew it was exactly the right response.
‘“Wow” is right!’ she said, then she stood up on tiptoe and kissed him again, more insistently this time, the kiss lasting . . . Simon couldn’t tell if it was a minute or an hour, he was so lost in the moment.
She eventually broke away, and Simon had to remind himself to breathe. Her lips had been so warm, and so moist, and so soft, and so pliant, and had tasted of oranges, and chocolate, and alcohol, and . . . what was that tea called again?
‘Bedtime,’ he whispered, pleased he’d remembered the name, but then – and to his amazement – Lisa took him by the hand.
‘My thoughts exactly,’ she said, leading him along the hall.
Chapter 28
Lisa didn’t know what had come over her, but one thing was for sure: Simon was a great kisser. And while she knew that kissing was like the tango – insomuch as it took two people to do it, rather than that it involved exaggerated leg movements performed to the sound of an accordion – she’d never been kissed like that. So much so, and despite what she’d said a few moments ago about not having had any complaints, that she’d even been a little concerned she wasn’t giving as good as she was getting.
The funny thing was, she hadn’t meant to provoke him into kissing her, unless she’d done it subconsciously. But when they’d started pushing each other’s buttons about it, Lisa had suddenly taken the challenge on, and, to her surprise, he’d caved pretty quickly. Then, when they’d kissed, he’d begun pushing her buttons in a different way – a way she hadn’t ever felt before.
Maybe it had been aided by the champagne, or the memory of him whisking her off her feet on the beach earlier, or it could simply have been the moment – and as Lisa had learned in Cancún, in life you had to grab the moment. ‘Seize the day’ – it was what the Latin tattoo on her hip meant (though it also meant she shouldn’t drink five margaritas at a Mexican beach bar, then stagger on a drunken whim into the nearest tattoo parlour). So when Simon had suggested they go to bed, she hadn’t given it a second thought, but instead had just grabbed his hand and led him along the hallway and into her bedroom, grateful it was dark enough that he couldn’t see the mess she’d left it in while she’d been panic-choosing her outfit earlier.
Now they were standing in the middle of the room, kissing passionately . . . No, not passionately. Tenderly. Softly. Insistently. And yet it was one of the sexiest things she’d ever experienced. Most of the other men who’d made it this far couldn’t wait to get her into bed, and foreplay had been something they’d thought they’d accomplished simply by buying her drinks at the pub. Once they were naked . . . well, Lisa had often worried they’d assumed they were in an episode of Countdown, as if determined to finish before some imaginary timer went off. But Simon? He seemed content with the kissing part, as if it were something he’d just remembered he loved doing, so he was in no rush to move on. And right now that suited Lisa just fine.
Eventually, reluctantly, she broke off, partly because – given the difference in their heights – her neck was getting stiff. Then she remembered Simon’s earlier comment about everyone being the same height lying down, so she cleared her throat in what she hoped was a sexy way.
‘Shall we?’ she said huskily. Then, without waiting for an answer, Lisa manoeuvred him down on to the bed and straddled his lap. ‘Now, where were we? Oh yes. Right about . . .’
She touched a finger to his lips, then put her lips where her finger had been and kissed him again, harder this time, running her hands through his hair, telling herself to slow down – but right now Lisa was very turned on. And, judging by what she could feel as her body pressed against his, she was sure Simon was too.
Her lips still locked with his, she reached down and began unbuttoning her shirt, then she grabbed Simon’s hands, placing them where she’d left off so he could finish the job. But when he moved them round behind his back, she repositioned them.
‘It’s okay,’ she whispered into his ear, giving the lobe a gentle bite for good measure, though her words seemed to have the opposite effect, as Simon suddenly pulled away from her.
‘No, it isn’t,’ he said, softly.
‘What?’
‘I can’t do this.’
Lisa fumbled for the bedside light and switched it on, resisting the temptation to shine it in Simon’s face like an interrogator might.
‘What do you mean?’
‘This,’ he said, hovering his hands over her half-uncovered breasts, then pulling them away, as if Lisa’s bra was radioactive.
‘You mean generally?’ she said, suddenly a little fearful of where this conversation might be going.
‘No!’ Simon said, perhaps a little loudly, then he softened his voice. ‘I mean, I can do this. Of course I can. I just can’t do it now.’
‘Is it the champagne? Because if you’re worried about things working – from where I’m sitting I can reassure you that they are!’
Lisa was hoping for a ‘yes’, but Simon was already shaking his head. ‘No, it’s . . .’ Gently, he wriggled out from underneath her and leaned back on the bed. ‘You and me.’
‘What?’
‘Well, mostly me, if I’m honest.’
‘I don’t . . .’
‘I just . . .’ Simon had taken her hand, and Lisa had to resist the temptation to s
natch it back. ‘After Alice, I’ve always promised myself that this – sex – had to mean something. Needed to be something done by two people who . . .’ He seemed to be searching for the right word, but Lisa didn’t dare suggest one. ‘Cared about each other. Not just something that you do, like having another drink, or . . .’ He frowned. ‘Going for a jog. And if you’d asked me ten minutes ago, or an hour ago, or even before we met, whether I thought this was on the cards, I’d have laughed – and not just because I’m maybe a little out of practice, but because it wasn’t something I expected at all, so much so that when you seemed to think it was such a natural thing to do . . .’
‘It is a natural thing,’ said Lisa – a little petulantly, she realised. ‘It’s the most natural thing.’
‘I meant, given the run of play this evening. Everything from when we had an ice cream – when I had an ice cream, at least – was based on you wanting to construct this perfect date to show you in a good enough light so you could meet someone else. Someone who wasn’t me. So you’ll excuse me if I’m feeling a little confused.’
Simon was looking as uncomfortable as she’d seen him all day, and Lisa knew that of course she should excuse him. But right now her dismay at being rejected was outweighing her sense of fairness.
‘But that was . . .’ She felt herself colour. ‘Until we kissed.’
‘And suddenly one kiss changes everything?’
Lisa bit off her ‘yes!’ and stared at him. The truth was, one kiss had changed everything. Though not in the same way for both of them, it was becoming apparent.
‘Simon, I . . .’ She moved to sit next to him on the bed, careful to leave a distance between the two of them – though not one that was as wide as the apparent emotional one, which appeared to be growing in size by the second. ‘I thought you . . . I mean, you walked me home. Or rather, tricked me into letting you.’
‘Because I was worried about you walking home on your own.’
‘And then you came in. For tea.’
‘Because you asked me. And because I was thirsty. And because . . .’
He stopped talking, so Lisa took his hand, pulled it into her lap and gave it a squeeze. ‘What?’
‘Well, because you seemed . . . lonely.’
Lisa almost threw his hand back at him. ‘Fuck off!’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
She was surprised to find that tears had sprung to her eyes. ‘How exactly did you mean it?’ she said, angrily.
‘I just . . .’ Simon stood up, adjusted the sarong and began pacing round the bedroom, picking his way through the clutter of discarded pairs of shoes and – Lisa was ashamed to see – not-so-new pairs of knickers scattered across the floor. ‘Well, we’re both lonely. Aren’t we? Otherwise we’d hardly have ended up on a blind date in the first place. And there’s no shame in admitting that. A lot of people are lonely. Some of them are lonely and they’re in relationships. But when you’re single, especially when you don’t want to be . . .’ Simon stopped pacing, then he perched on the edge of the chair opposite and rested his head in his hands. ‘All I’m saying is, I don’t want this to be some sort of . . . comfort shag. Something you’re doing because you feel sorry for me, or something you’re doing because you feel sorry for you. We’d just wake up in the morning and feel lousy.’
‘Well, I’m certainly going to be doing that now!’
He looked across the room at her. ‘Come on, Lisa. Up until about five minutes ago, you had absolutely no intention of ever seeing me again. And the rest of the “date”’ – Simon put an exaggerated set of air quotes around the word, and Lisa’s position on the ‘feeling awful’ scale worsened by a notch or two – ‘has been all about you pretending you want to do something for the two of us when, in reality, it’s all been about you. You’ve been using me. Just like you were about to again. And I’m sorry, but all this “say yes to everything” stuff you learned in Cancún, all this “living in the moment”? It sounds good in theory, but life isn’t just a moment. It’s made up of a past. A future. It’s forever. And I’m sorry to have to be the one who breaks this to you, but there’s no certainty about that either.’
Lisa stared at her feet, unable to meet Simon’s eyes. Part of her suspected he might be right – although a bigger part of her didn’t want to admit it. But a part of him – a big part of him, if you excused the phrase – had responded when they’d kissed, so she knew he fancied her. If that had been all she’d set out to prove, then surely she’d done that, and yet – yet again – Simon had surprised her. Though, this time, not in a good way.
She sniffed, then began fastening the buttons on her shirt, not wanting him to go but not wanting him to stay either, trying desperately to stop the tears from coming. Balling her fists, she scrunched her eyes shut and rubbed them until her vision swam, then she took a deep breath.
‘I think you’d better leave,’ she said.
But when she opened her eyes again she saw that Simon had already gone.
Chapter 29
Simon grabbed his jeans and socks from the tumble dryer and pulled them on, wincing as the hot metal rivets in his Levi’s touched his skin, then slipped the warm-but-still-damp trainers on to his feet and let himself out of Lisa’s front door. After a moment’s hesitation, he pulled it softly shut behind him and made for the relative safety of the pavement. How on earth had today ended up like this?
Okay, so kissing Lisa had felt . . . well, rather wonderful, now he thought about it. And Will would probably call him an idiot for turning down what was probably a ‘sure thing’, in his friend’s words. But that was the problem. Simon wasn’t ‘sure’. He began a series of slow, controlled breaths, a technique he’d learned in therapy, and willed the competing knots of grief and guilt that had been building up inside him to dissipate. Deep down, he’d known he shouldn’t be looking to replace Alice like-for-like – though to tell the truth (not that he could bring himself to tell Lisa), he hadn’t been looking to replace Alice full stop. And while he’d initially been sure he and Lisa weren’t at all compatible, and eventually decided to treat the date as an exercise, she’d . . . well, like he’d thought earlier, ‘grown on him’ was probably how he’d describe it.
Of course, he should have just told her the truth about what had happened to Alice, and not just taken his anger at his feelings of guilt out on her, or tried to fob her off with some story about how sex had to ‘mean’ something. Simon wasn’t stupid, nor was he a prude – sometimes all sex meant was that you felt horny, and that was fine. And while it had been two years – Simon added the emphasis in his head just like Will would do out loud every time it came up – well, that was another issue too.
No, all things considered, it would have just been too complicated. He was best out of there. Even though it didn’t quite feel like it.
Besides, telling Lisa that Alice had died was a pretty big bombshell to drop, and a pretty big ‘ask’ for anyone. Especially someone who – as Simon had found out over the course of the day – was quite plainly trying to deal with a number of issues herself. Plus, he hadn’t been sure Lisa was genuinely attracted to him – or even that interested, to be honest. She’d been a little drunk, and so had he, and Simon didn’t want that to be the reason anything might happen between the two of them, especially if that was all it was. Plus he’d wanted to spare them both the awkwardness – the guilt – that was sure to come afterwards. In any case, one-night stands had never been his thing – not that he’d had that many opportunities to have a one-night stand. He and Alice hadn’t slept together until their fourth date (though it should have been their third, no thanks to his ‘dessert’ faux-pas) – a fact he’d regretted when they were lying in bed after their first time, and then after she’d died, when he realised he’d never be able to sleep with her again.
He blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the film of tears that had suddenly misted his vision, and peered up at the night sky, the stars just about visible through the light cloud
cover, wondering if Alice was looking down on him. Would she be amused by what she’d seen this evening? Or horrified that he was ‘saving’ himself for . . . he didn’t know what.
If he were like Lisa, he’d no doubt be looking for a sign. Perhaps the clouds were one, obscuring Alice’s view of the goings-on. Maybe he should have read his horoscope this morning, just in case. And then just stayed at home.
He made his way back to the main road, pulled his phone out to check his quickest route back to the car (not that he was planning to drive, but his coat was in there, and he didn’t want to wake up tomorrow having caught a chill on top of the hangover he was sure to have), and almost dropped it in shock when it rang at exactly that moment. Will, no doubt keeping tabs on him again. Simon considered not answering, but that would only delay the inevitable. And unlike sex with Lisa, a dressing-down from Will was something he was keen to get over and done with.
‘Mate?’
Will was sounding less confident this time. Perhaps Jess had received a call from the bank telling her someone had been abusing her credit card. Or maybe – and Simon really hoped not – Lisa had called Jess the second he’d left, then she’d shared what she’d heard with Will, and Will was calling him to tell him exactly what he thought of him.
‘Hey, Will,’ he said, as neutrally as possible. ‘What’s up?’
‘Just checking in.’
‘Checking up, more like!’
Will laughed. ‘Okay, okay. Guilty as charged. So . . . ?’
‘So what?’
‘Just wanted to make sure that you and Lisa, you know, did it?’
Simon’s jaw almost hit the floor. Either Will was psychic or he’d been tailing him, or – and he wouldn’t put it past her – Lisa had phoned Jess from the bathroom to tell her Simon was back at her house for ‘coffee’ (even though, of course, it had been tea). But it was one thing for Will to try to get him back dating; another for him to check up on whether he’d had sex or not. And after the day he’d had Simon’s patience was pretty much at an end.
