by Paige Toon
‘Do you mind if I ask what happened?’
‘No, but do you mind if I don’t want to talk about it?’ I laugh slightly with embarrassment.
‘Of course not.’ He looks at me searchingly. ‘I hope you’ll open up to me someday.’
‘Maybe.’
Or maybe not. Lukas is a whole different kettle of fish to Jessie and Emily. I have no desire to talk to him about Joe. My eyes fall to the ground and I suddenly feel full of melancholy.
‘Let’s go for a walk,’ Lukas suggests.
I gladly agree.
On Friday night, I’m halfway through my second pint of lager at the Pickerel with Emily, Jessie and co., when Lukas texts to ask me what I’m doing. I haven’t seen him since Monday as he’s been busy at the lab, but I’ve thought of him often. I write back to say that I’m at the pub, and I’m about to press Send, when I think to ask him what he’s up to. His response comes quickly. He says he’s at Trinity’s college bar. I don’t really know what he expects me to do with this information, but then another text comes in from him asking me to join him. An afterthought? Or indecision?
‘Who are you texting?’ Jessie asks nosily.
‘Lukas,’ I reply distractedly.
‘What’s he saying?’
‘He’s wondering if I want to go for a drink with him.’
‘Do you?’
Yes . . .
‘I’ll finish my lager first,’ I say. ‘Hey, do you know what the generic term is for peacock?’
‘What are you on about?’
‘You know, a peacock is a male, a peahen is a female. Any idea what you’d call them jointly?’
‘Fuck, no. They’re all just called peacocks, aren’t they?’
‘Apparently not.’
‘What is it, then?’
‘Peafowl,’ I tell him with a knowing look.
He snorts with laughter and I giggle and down my drink.
Butterflies fill my stomach as I wait outside Trinity. Lukas appears within a minute in a T-shirt and jeans.
‘Aren’t you cold?’ I ask with a smile.
‘I ran,’ he replies, slightly out of breath as he bends down to kiss me on the cheek. The scent of his aftershave lingers and my pulse quickens. It’s a little bit of a shock to discover how much I fancy him.
‘The beautiful Alice!’ Harry cries from across the room the moment we walk into the bar. I can tell from this distance that he’s already had a few. I glance at Lukas and wonder how much he’s had to drink. It’s hard to tell; he’s always so composed.
Harry jumps up and drags a heavy chair over for me. Lukas sits down on the leather sofa to my left, next to a guy who looks to be in his early twenties and is wearing a pale-pink shirt unbuttoned at the top. He’s tanned with light blond hair, and is extremely good-looking. I’ve been quite taken aback by how many perfect specimens of guys and girls there are in Cambridge, actually. Tall, broad or beautiful and highly intelligent . . . A James Bond villain would have a field day here if he wanted to snaffle up a bunch of them to start a new race. Wasn’t there a movie about that sort of thing? Moonraker, that’s it.
‘Alice, this is Matthew.’
‘Hi,’ he says with a raised eyebrow.
‘Hi.’
Lukas jumps back up. ‘What would you like to drink?’ he asks me. I glance at the table: in front of him is what looks like neat whisky. Matthew is also drinking whisky and Harry has a pint glass in his hand.
‘A vodka, lemonade and lime, please,’ I reply. He heads off to the bar and I turn to Harry. ‘So, does Great Hall have a new duck in residence?’
He looks embarrassed and Matthew play-punches him on the arm. ‘Someone else beat him to it, didn’t they?’
‘Oh dear,’ I empathise. ‘On the plus side, you’re still alive.’
‘I’ll put the next one up,’ Harry mutters determinedly.
‘Sure you will,’ Matthew teases.
I smile and look around. Not your average college bar, I’d guess, although I haven’t been to any, other than my own. But there is table football and . . . Yes! A pool table!
‘Do you play?’ Matthew asks, leaning forward to talk to me.
I turn back to him. ‘Table football, no. Pool, yes.’
‘Really?’ Harry asks with interest.
‘Well, yeah, a little.’ My dad taught me to play at our local pub when I was about ten. We went there almost every Sunday for years. I became quite good.
‘Do you want a game?’ Matthew asks.
‘Um . . . Could do.’
‘Come on,’ Harry urges. ‘Doubles!’
Lukas returns with my drink.
‘Game of pool?’ Matthew asks him, indicating me. ‘Alice is up for it.’
‘Sure,’ Lukas replies.
‘Quick, it’s free,’ Harry says.
‘You against us?’ Matthew asks, nodding at Lukas and me as he gets a coin out of his pocket. Harry chalks up a cue.
‘Yes.’ Lukas puts our drinks down on a nearby windowsill and unexpectedly places his hands on my hips from behind. My stomach goes all jittery.
‘Heads or tails?’ Matthew asks us, glancing down at Lukas’s hands.
‘Heads,’ Lukas decides.
He flips the coin. ‘Heads it is.’ Harry hands over the cue and chooses another one for himself.
‘Do you want to break?’ Lukas asks me.
‘No, you go ahead.’ I’m nervous now. I hope I don’t make a fool out of myself.
Lukas breaks and three balls go straight into the pockets: two ‘stripes’ and one ‘spot’. I watch him with glee as he pots a third stripe, but he accidentally snookers himself so he has to shoot the cue ball off a corner. It hits a stripe and sends it in the direction of a corner pocket, but the ball falls short and doesn’t go in.
‘Unlucky,’ Matthew says, lining up his cue. He pots a spot and moves onto another.
‘You’re really good!’ I whisper into Lukas’s ear when he hands over the cue to me.
‘We have a snooker table at home,’ he whispers back with a smile, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the action on the table.
‘Leave some for me,’ Harry complains, as Matthew attempts another pot.
He misses and glares at Harry. ‘You put me off.’
And now it’s my turn. I hope that my hands don’t shake. I take a large sip of my drink, then I study the table. I could go for the easy pot – the stripe that Lukas lined up in his last shot – but I kind of fancy the one down the other end of the table. I lean across the table and line up my cue. The ball goes straight in.
‘Whoa!’ Matthew and Harry exclaim in unison. I line up my next shot: I plan to pot a ball on the other side of the table into a different corner pocket. Again it goes in.
‘We’ve been had,’ Harry jokes, nudging Matthew, who’s regarding me with admiration. Lukas raises his eyebrows at me. I pot another stripe, but the cue ball follows in after it.
‘Oh, no,’ I groan.
‘Bad luck!’ Harry exclaims delightedly, chalking up his cue.
‘Not bad for a girl,’ Lukas teases in my ear, putting his hands back on my hips and making me feel jittery again.
‘Oi.’ I slap Lukas’s thigh and he laughs under his breath. My thoughts suddenly jump to Joe and my smile falters.
No. I will not think about him now. Not tonight. Not ever. He couldn’t even be bothered to try to track me down. Damn him.
Yes, I’m still angry, although my anger is waning. I think I might be moving onto acceptance, and then . . .
The return to the willingness to love.
I unwittingly snort with laughter as I recall Emily reading that out. ‘What are you giggling about?’ Matthew asks from beside me.
‘Nothing,’ I reply chirpily.
Suddenly it’s Lukas’s turn again and there is only one stripe left: the one that he set up earlier. It’s an easy shot, and then he’s onto the black ball. It’s right up against the edge and it’s practically impossible to pot from this ang
le. He gives it a good go, though, hopefully making my job next time slightly easier.
Matthew pots the rest of the spots, and it looks like he’ll pot the black, but he misses it completely.
‘Argh!’ He buries his head in his hands. Harry theatrically screams ‘No!’ and Lukas with a smile hands over the cue to me. I line it up and barely feel any pressure, thanks to the relaxing qualities of my good friend Smirnoff. I pot the black and the game is ours.
Harry pretends to sob over the table. Then he looks up and brightly says: ‘Another game?’
‘Alice?’ Lukas asks me.
‘Why not?’ I reply with a smile, holding up my empty glass. ‘I might need another one of these, though . . .’
By the time Lukas and I win three out of five games, I’m feeling extremely tipsy. He’s been drinking double whiskies, and must be a bit drunk by now, although you’d hardly know it.
‘We’re going to sit this one out,’ he firmly tells a disappointed Harry and Matthew, before leading me to a sofa underneath the window. He slumps down onto it, and it’s the least composed thing I’ve ever seen him do, so I figure I’m probably right about the drink thing. I sit down next to him and he wraps his arm around my neck and sighs. He’s been very tactile tonight, and it’s nice because we haven’t even kissed. In my insecure moments, I’ve wondered if he just likes me as a friend. I turn to look at him. He’s very close and he meets my gaze with those intensely blue eyes of his. We stare at each other for what feels like a long time, so much so that my heart starts to cartwheel.
‘Do you want to come back to mine?’ he asks quietly.
‘A coffee might be a good idea,’ I reply, not wanting to appear overly keen. I still feel a little bruised after the rooftop incident.
He nods and we stand up. ‘See you later, guys,’ he calls at Harry and Matthew as we pass.
‘You’re not leaving!’ Harry exclaims.
‘Bye,’ Matthew replies with a half wave.
‘See you in the morning,’ Lukas tells Harry.
‘Okay,’ he says sorrowfully. ‘Bye, beautiful Alice!’
I giggle and follow Lukas out.
‘Where do you live?’ I ask Lukas as we hurry towards the main gate. He must be absolutely freezing.
‘Just across the road.’
‘Why didn’t you bring a coat?’ I ask with astonishment.
‘I really am just across the road.’ He glances down at me.
We pass through the gate and walk across the road to the wooden door I once saw him go into. He pushes it open and leads me right, up some stairs, then right again at the top. He nods at the small terraced houses in front of us.
‘This is home.’
‘No way.’
He unlocks the door and pushes it open for me, then goes to the third door we come to, unlocking that too.
He lives in a student bedsit above a bookshop on Trinity Street. His room is a lot larger than the one I had in Nightingale Hall in my first year, and there’s a single bed, a desk and a couple of comfy chairs in front of a gas fire. Out of the windows I can see Great Gate opposite.
‘I thought I lived centrally!’ I exclaim.
‘It’s too noisy here,’ he brushes me off, bending down to turn on the fire.
‘It’s amazing!’
‘Your house is nicer.’
That’s the first complimentary thing he’s said about Jessie’s house, which surprises me because it is pretty damn incredible.
‘Come on, then,’ I say, looking around. ‘Where do you keep it?’
‘What?’ he asks with a frown, standing back up again.
‘It’s got to be here somewhere.’ I go to his wardrobe and pull open the doors. His clothes are neatly lined up in front of me and the smell of his aftershave wafts out. ‘Nope.’ I open the cupboard to my left. ‘Where is this cold compress that you keep?’
He laughs and shakes his head.
‘Aha!’ I say jubilantly, spying a small fridge. I open the fridge door, but can see nothing resembling a cold compress. ‘Oh,’ I act disappointed, and then spin around to find him right behind me.
‘Is this cold enough for you?’ He presses his hand to my head. He’s so close – and I desperately, urgently, want him to kiss me. This time, thankfully, he does.
His lips are warm and soft and I can taste whisky on his tongue. I touch my hands to his toned waist and feel light-headed as his kiss deepens. He gently breaks away and then regards me seriously for a moment, before closing the curtains. He undresses me deftly, without taking his lips from mine, and when I’m standing in nothing other than my underwear he tugs his T-shirt over his head. He’s perfect: broad and fit. I place my hands on his chest and he guides them down to his jeans. I don’t feel experienced or confident enough to undress him and he seems to realise this, because he takes over, removing his jeans and pulling me down to the bed. He kisses me long and languidly and even if I hadn’t had anything to drink I know I would still feel drunk. He pushes my hair away from the nape of my neck and kisses me there. I gasp and arch my back. And then he easily unhooks the clasps of my bra and moves his lips to my breasts.
This is a man who knows what he is doing.
And if that thought might have bothered me before, right now I just want to bask under his blissful touch.
I come to, feeling groggy. Daylight is already spilling underneath the curtains. I’m lying on my side facing the room, and Lukas’s arms are around my waist. This bed is too small for us to be anything other than intertwined. Lukas kisses my back from behind.
‘Good morning,’ he murmurs.
‘Hi.’ I smile over my shoulder at him, feeling shy. ‘Have you been awake long?’ I ask.
‘I didn’t want to rouse you,’ he replies, avoiding the question.
‘You should have,’ I tell him. ‘Have you got any lectures today?’
‘It’s Saturday,’ he replies.
‘Oh, yeah.’ A beat. ‘Shit!’ I bolt upright and my head pounds painfully in response. ‘What time is it?’ I clutch the covers around my now-exposed naked upper half.
‘Nine thirty,’ he replies calmly, tracing his fingertips down my spine and making me shiver. ‘Have you got somewhere you need to be?’
‘I’m supposed to be on the river.’
‘It’s early November. If there are dozens of tourists desperate to go punting on a cold winter’s morning I’m sure one of your colleagues can take them.’
Hmm. I guess that’s true. He reaches up and sweeps my hair back from my face before pulling me down on top of him. His stubble has grown overnight and he’s unbelievably sexy. He kisses me passionately and then expertly flips me so that I’m underneath him. It becomes instantly clear that he’s been waiting for me to wake up for quite a while . . .
It’s ten thirty by the time I finally drag myself out of bed.
‘I really do need to go,’ I say regretfully.
‘When can I see you again?’ he asks.
‘When do you want to?’
‘Tonight?’
I nod, before remembering something. ‘Oh, I can’t. I’m going to the movies tonight with Jessie.’ We go regularly. It’s our ‘thing’.
‘Who’s Jessie?’
I don’t know why I haven’t referred to him by his name before now.
‘My flatmate. One of them,’ I reply.
‘Tomorrow, then?’ he asks.
‘Sounds good.’
‘I’ll call you.’
There’s a strange atmosphere when I walk into the house. I thought Jessie would already be at work, but I can hear him talking to Emily in the kitchen. They fall silent as I close the front door behind me and walk down the corridor.
‘Hello,’ I say cheerfully.
‘Nice of you to let us know you were staying out all night,’ Jessie says grumpily.
‘Oh. Sorry.’
He doesn’t look at me. Emily flashes me an awkward smile. ‘He was worried about you,’ she explains apologetically.
‘I was with Lukas,’ I say.
‘We gathered that,’ Jessie comments wryly, standing up to clear the breakfast plates. I notice there’s a third plate on the table, for me.
‘Sorry,’ I say again. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’
‘Did you have a nice time?’ Emily asks kindly.
‘Yes, thank you.’ Pause. ‘Did you?’
‘Oh, you know, same as usual.’
‘I’ve got to get ready for work,’ Jessie mutters, leaving the room.
‘I thought he’d already be at work,’ I say to Emily once he’s gone. The afterglow I’d been experiencing disappeared the moment I walked in through the door and now I sit down at the table feeling glum.
‘He overslept,’ she says.
‘Really? That’s unusual for him.’
‘Mmm.’
‘Big night?’
‘Oh, no bigger than usual,’ she replies offhandedly. ‘But tell me about your night! You stayed at Lukas’s?’ She props her elbows on the table and leans in closer.
‘Yes.’ I shift in my seat, but can’t keep the smile from my face.
Her eyes widen. ‘Did you do the dirty deed?’
‘What a thing to call it!’ I exclaim.
‘You did!’ she cries. ‘What was he like?’
I smile.
‘He was good, wasn’t he?’ she asks eagerly.
I shrug.
‘Come on, you have to kiss and tell!’ she squawks.
‘Alice, are you coming to work or not?’ Jessie demands to know from the doorway.
I jump to my feet. ‘Yes. Give me five minutes to change.’
He humphs, but I know he’ll wait.
‘Talk to you later,’ I say to Emily. She hunches over with disappointment and I rush upstairs to throw on some fresh clothes. A shower will have to wait until later.
‘So . . .’ Jessie says on the walk to the Magdalene Bridge punting station. (When I lived in halls I used to start tours near Silver Street Bridge, on the other side of town, but now Magdalene is much closer.) ‘You stayed over at Lukas’s,’ he continues, saying ‘Lukas’ in a sardonic way.
‘Yes,’ I reply crossly. ‘Have you got a problem with that, Jessie?’ I’m too annoyed to address him by his nickname.
