Soulmates

by Holly Bourne

  “I don’t think that’s the best idea, Poppy.”

  “It’s fiiiiiiiine. I’m a very careful person.”

  “Leave it to the barman.”

  He stood me up carefully and I swayed and smiled at everyone – a huge beaming smile. One of Johnno’s mates looked a little frightened.

  “Right, I’m off,” I declared to my drunken friends.

  “Reallysh?” Amanda asked, her head on Johnno’s shoulder. “So schoon?”

  I nodded and it took a moment for my head to recover from the movement. “See you at college tomorrow.”

  College. With a hangover. The thought pinged into my fuzzy brain but pinged right back out again.

  Lizzie struggled to her feet to say goodbye. “Make sure she gets home safely,” she told Noah. “Hang on, I’m supposed to make an animal noise. Hee-haw hee-haw! I’m a donkey!”

  “Your friends are crazy,” Noah whispered.

  “I love them very much,” I said, still swaying. I tried to say goodbye to Ruth. I was dimly aware that I was likely to say something I regretted, so I blearily picked non-offensive words as best I could.

  “Bye, Will, bye, Ruth. Well, we gave your hair a good debut, didn’t we?”

  She smiled and replied to Noah instead. “Your girlfriend seems a little bit worse for wear. She never could handle her drink.”

  “HELLLLLLOOOOOOOO?” I yelled. “I am here. I can hear you, Ruth. With my ears. I have ears on my head. And they can hear you.”

  She ignored me like I was Will. “Well, I only hope she isn’t sick on your shoes.”

  Noah took me by the shoulders and steered me away. I think he could sense my anger.

  “She’s fine. Come on, Poppy.”

  He walked me out of the beer garden as I waved backwards at everyone. Just as we left, I heard Amanda let out an almighty “NEIGH”, followed by a startled hiccup.

  It was still incredibly balmy as Noah and I made our way home. Being alone with him sobered me up a little. Only a little. I was trying very hard to walk in a straight line but it was somewhat of a struggle.

  “You know what?” I asked, stumbling over my own feet and being corrected by Noah’s strong arms.

  “What?”

  “I like you.”

  “Hmm. Well that’s sort of how these things work, Poppy.”

  “You don’t understand!” I was nestled under his arm, which didn’t help the walking-straight process. “It’s bad. I’m not supposed to like you. BAD things will happen. I don’t let myself like people. Especially not boys like you. You’re going to take my stupid little heart and do a poo on it.”

  Noah laughed. A lot.

  “Well, that’s a lovely image you’ve painted for me.”

  “Oh God. I just said the word poo, didn’t I?”

  “I’m afraid you did.”

  I hid further in him. “Well, that’s done it now. You’re definitely going to poo on my heart now that I’ve said the word poo. And now I keep saying it. Can I go home now please and DIE?”

  Noah dug me out from his armpit and straightened me up.

  “I can’t take you home just yet. It’s only 8 p.m. and I don’t think your parents will approve if I bring you home wasted.”

  We walked more. It was getting mildly more doable, although I still needed Noah’s support.

  “So where are we going then?”

  “Back to mine.”

  I turned and walked backwards in what I thought was an alluring way. I felt confident. The fact I had just said the word “poo” repeatedly was already forgotten in my beer-infused haze.

  “What are you doing?” Noah asked.

  We were facing each other now. I took another step backwards and almost lost my balance again. Full of boozy ego, I took his hand and pulled him towards me. “So we’re going back to yours then?”

  “To sober you up. Yes.”

  I looked up at him. “You’re not going to take advantage of me, are you?” I said softly, my hands now on his chest. “Because I’m very impressionable right now.”

  Noah broke eye contact. “Come on, Poppy. Stop messing about.”

  I pouted and then took a (careful) step closer to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and slowly kissed him there. Noah let out a long breath.

  “I’m not messing about,” I whispered. “I want you to take advantage of me.”

  Noah very slowly extracted himself from my grasp. “So where did my little feminist girlfriend go?”

  I shrugged. There’s nothing like binge drinking to change your personality. Those TV warning adverts were right.

  Noah took my hand firmly and led me down the street. Although there was a small hidden sober part of me that should have been glad he wasn’t taking advantage of my drunken and admittedly forward behaviour, this was obscured by a huge humiliating surge of rejection. We walked (well, I was still stumbling) to Noah’s as the sun began to set. The sky looked even heavier and there were far-off rumblings letting us know a storm was approaching.

  I followed alongside Noah.

  In a mood.

  Not talking.

  We took a short cut through a field dotted with large oak trees. It was almost dusk and I decided I couldn’t be bothered to walk any further. Without any announcement, I let go of Noah’s hand and sat down in the long grass.

  Noah looked round. I was sitting cross-legged, with my arms crossed over my chest. Pouting.

  “What’s wrong now, Poppy?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I’m not falling for that one.” He sighed and sat next to me.

  I looked away – still a bit embarrassed. There were a few houses framing the field, but it was too dark for anyone to see us. I could see an orange glow through the cracks of people’s curtains. They were probably all sitting down to eat dinner or something.

  I hadn’t eaten any dinner. That was a mistake. My mouth tasted sour from the beer.

  “Are we just going to sit here in silence?”

  “You’re the one who finds me repulsive.” I sounded like a spoiled child. I didn’t particularly care though.

  “Poppy. Are you honestly telling me you’re in a mood because I won’t take advantage of you when you’re drunk?”

  The sober part of my brain won out for a moment. “Well, when you put it like that…” I smiled to myself.

  Noah shuffled closer so our bums were almost touching. He took my hand. “Do you have any idea how hard you are to resist, Poppy Lawson?”

  I could feel his breath on my neck. I shivered in the dark. “You seem to be managing well enough.”

  “I’m trying to be a gentleman. Don’t you see?”

  “But you’re not a gentleman with other girls!”

  “Poppy, I don’t see you as I saw those other girls. That’s why I’m trying to resist your drunken advances. But it’s very, very hard. Believe me.”

  I wanted him to kiss me so much it almost physically hurt. I leaned over and slowly kissed his neck. “Can you resist me when I do that?” I asked. I lowered my head and kissed his neck again.

  Noah closed his eyes. “Just about, yes.”

  “What about if I do this?” I carefully nibbled his earlobe and he let out a small sigh. I showered kisses on his face, his eyes, and teasingly brushed my lips against his. I felt his mouth respond but moved back to his neck.

  Noah’s mouth hung half-open. “Okay. I’m managing. Sort of…”

  “How about if I do this?”

  Mustering all my leftover drunken confidence, I kissed him fully on the mouth. I had one hand round his neck, scratching through his hair, and my other slid up his shirt. The moment my hand touched his bare skin, Noah groaned and his resolve evaporated. He flipped me onto my back and lay above me, kissing me furiously. It felt amazing. My skin was quivering and goose pimples erupted over every part of my body. I tugged at his shirt.

  “Poppy, I’m trying to do the honourable thing here,” he said into my mouth.

  “I don’t care.”
>
  And I didn’t. I really didn’t.

  Every sensible thought in my brain had vanished and been replaced by Noah and the taste of Noah. I didn’t notice the sky had turned a deep opaque black above us, or that all the birds had gone silent. My back arched up, pushing me as close to his body as possible. I felt the cool touch of his hand around my waist. His hands strayed up my back and under my dress…

  A loud CRACK of thunder interrupted us before things got more compromising. The shock of it made me scream. We broke apart just in time to see huge forked licks of lightning spasm across the sky.

  “What the hell is going on?” I said.

  Before Noah had a chance to answer, the clouds gave up their resistance. As if at the click of a finger, the dry air was replaced by heavy curtains of sheeting rain. I was drenched immediately. It soaked through my thin cotton dress, saturated my hair and filled my shoes.

  Noah grasped my hand. “Come on, we need to get inside.”

  We ran, our hands raised pathetically above our heads to try and shield us from the urgent rain. It ricocheted off the pavement and, already, streams had formed and were gushing down the sides of the roads. I kept close to Noah as we ran through the downpour. Sometimes the waterfall was so heavy I couldn’t see him. But as flickers of lightning raged furiously above us, his tall dark figure was illuminated in front of me.

  “We’re almost there,” he yelled, his voice muffled by the rain.

  The storm showed no sign of abating. I’d never witnessed anything like it. Every crack of thunder was so loud it shook my bones with some sort of apocalyptic dread. I was scared. It was directly above us and I had visions of the lightning touching the wet ground and its fatal force running through the river of a pavement we were now wading through. Another flash revealed we were outside Noah’s flat. Relief flooded through me. Noah managed to get his key in the lock, then he pulled me into the hallway and slammed the door shut behind us.

  It was much quieter inside. We stood in silence and watched the storm batter Middletown into pieces. A wind was now bending the trees well beyond their normal shapes. Debris was careering down the street and the water levels were rising. Puddles in the road were already almost swamping the pavements. We could hear the gurgle of the drains as they struggled to swallow the vast amounts of rainwater.

  Noah took my hand. “Come on. We need to get dry.”

  He led me into his apartment. I stood in the living room, with my teeth chattering. He went into the bathroom and came out holding two fluffy white towels.

  “Here,” he said, tossing me one. “Try and dry yourself off as much as you can, but you might need a shower to warm up.”

  I took the towel thankfully and began vigorously rubbing myself down. My dress was soaked through and, when I twisted the hem, water actually bubbled out onto the floor. “I think I’m going to have to take you up on that shower offer.”

  Noah raised his eyebrows suggestively but the storm had sobered me up entirely.

  “By myself,” I added.

  He shrugged, grinning. “I didn’t say anything.”

  He led me into his massive bathroom with the giant infinity shower. It had one of those huge showerheads that made it feel like you were being rained on. I’d been rained on enough for one day, but at least this water was hot. Noah demonstrated how to adjust the temperature. Then he left and came back with an oversized shirt.

  “I’m going to put your dress in the airing cupboard so it can dry off.” He put the shirt in the corner. “You can wear this while it’s drying. It should be big enough to cover…er…everything. I’ll jump in after you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m just going to be in the living room…trying very hard to ignore the fact you’re going to be naked only metres away.”

  I giggled and chucked my towel at him. He caught it, hung it up behind the door, and left me alone.

  I made the water as hot as I could stand and then moved under it. It was heavenly. I scrubbed off my make-up, grabbed some of Noah’s shampoo and lathered up. I was getting the first initial twinges of a headache – no doubt an early indicator of the hangover to come. I rinsed, then found that, amazingly enough, Noah had conditioner. I smoothed some through my hair before rinsing again. After I dried off, I put on Noah’s shirt. It fell to just below my bum and would do for the moment. I looked through his bathroom cabinets and found a hairdryer under the sink. Now that was odd – but useful nonetheless. I plugged it in and blow-dried my hair upside down. I cleaned the steam off the cabinet mirror and looked at myself. Not bad. I didn’t have a stitch of make-up on and my hair was a bit fluffy but I looked…reasonable. I took a breath and emerged from the bathroom.

  Noah was sitting on the sofa, a towel under him to stop his wet clothes ruining the leather. He was watching the news.

  I shyly shuffled over and sat away from him so I didn’t get re-wet. Two mugs of steaming tea were on the table in front of us.

  I pointed at them. “One of those had better be for me.”

  “It is. I thought you might need a bit more sobering up.” He looked me up and down, and I self-consciously rubbed a hand through my newly-washed hair. “You look alarmingly good.”

  I picked up the tea and took a grateful sip. “Don’t get any ideas,” I said. “That drunken predator possessing my body an hour ago has retreated back to the Land of Drunken Mistakes.”

  Noah laughed. “Well, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed. Oi!” he said, as I hurled a cushion at him. “Poppy, I’m joking. I’m sorry I wasn’t the gentleman I set out to be. You honestly don’t have a clue how…erm…sexy you are. And, well, it’s hard not to be a total guy when you’re behaving like, well, you know…”

  I felt my cheeks burn. I had a flashback of me drunkenly slurring, I want you to take advantage of me. I winced.

  Sensing my discomfort, Noah edged closer, being careful not to get me wet. He took my hand and I looked down at our entwined fingers.

  “Look,” he said. “I’ve not felt this way about anyone before and I don’t want to mess this up. I’ve rushed…things with girls in the past and it’s never been special. Ever. I really want it to be special with you.”

  He started stroking the inside of my thumb. My favourite thing. I didn’t know what to say. “Anyway,” he continued. “Despite the fact it’s remarkably hard not to leap on you, maybe we should cool things off a bit? Get to know each other better? Because I really want to get to know you, Poppy…”

  He cupped my face and studied it for an answer. I thought about what he’d said. It soothed me. I’d been so wound up about his sexual expertise that I was becoming someone I didn’t quite recognize. And much as the things we did felt amazing, I think I knew in myself it was probably a bit too soon.

  “I think that’s probably a good idea.”

  Noah kissed me on the eyebrow. “Good, so we’re agreed? Now, if you don’t mind –” he stood up – “I’m absolutely desperate for a shower.”

  He was still soaked through and I remembered the storm. I looked out the huge windows and gasped.

  “Oh my God,” I said, my hand to my mouth. “It’s still really going for it out there.”

  And it was. The rain was still sheeting down against the pitch-black sky. Yet it seemed far removed from Noah’s apartment, like his living room windows were a doorway to a different reality.

  “I know.” Noah picked up the towel from the sofa. “The local news is going mad. They’ve put out emergency flood warnings.” He saw my face. “It’s okay. I’ve already checked. This part of town is going to be okay. They think. Though it might be worth ringing your parents and letting them know you’re safe. I’ll walk you home when it stops raining.”

  Phone. Parents. Mum would be freaking out.

  Noah went into the bathroom. I heard the shower start up and walked to the window to get a better look outside. I pressed my face to the glass and my breath frosted around my mouth. The sky was so dark but, in the
orange glow of a street light, you could just about catch sight of heavy rain. It was coming down in long lines instead of drops. I wandered back to the sofa and turned the TV volume up. Some poor local news reporter was standing under an umbrella, trying to deliver a report.

  “As you can see,” she said, her hair whipping around her face, “the conditions out here are very dangerous. Forecasters are telling people not to go outside unless it’s completely necessary.” A lightning bolt flashed behind her, and a millisecond later it illuminated Noah’s living room. She must’ve been filming not too far from where I was. They now had a split screen and the newsreaders – safe and snug in the studio – were bombarding the stressed reporter with questions.

  “So what’s caused this freak weather then, Jennie?” the anchorman asked.

  Jennie took a moment to reply because her giant umbrella had blown inside out. She struggled with it, her make-up smearing as the rain hit her. With a tough tug, the umbrella righted itself and Jennie returned her attention to the camera.

  “That’s a good question, Martin,” she replied, professional despite the mascara smear down her cheek. “What’s making the situation worse is that not one weather forecaster predicted this storm. It literally blew in out of nowhere. It’s got scientists stumped. They think it might have something to do with the unseasonably warm snap we’ve been having, but at this stage, they’re just guessing.” She smiled into the camera.

  “And how is Middletown holding up?” the anchorman asked, holding his earpiece.

  The camera panned down to Jennie’s wellington-clad feet, which were ankle deep in water. I gasped as the camera zoomed out to reveal she was standing in Middletown High Street. We’d been drinking there only an hour or so ago. Now most of it was underwater.

  “As you can see, there’s been some localized flooding,” Jennie said, shouting to be heard over the wind. “Businesses are struggling to protect their buildings, as there aren’t many sandbags available. Obviously, because this storm was unexpected, there hasn’t been any time to bring in supplies. We’ve not heard of any casualties so far, but residents are being urged to stay inside and sit this one out. If you live near the river and the water levels are rising, take your valuables upstairs. Let’s just hope that’s an unnecessary precaution…”