by Holly Martin
‘Completely,’ George agreed, catching her hand and kissing the back of it. ‘I got very stressed at seeing you in my flat when I came home with Cerys. I thought she might shout at me and I didn’t want that, then I thought she might shout at you and I definitely didn’t want that – like Sinead when she saw you, she wanted to slap you and I didn’t want Cerys to do that.’ George was aware he was talking shit, but his mouth seemed to have completely disengaged from his brain now. ‘Then when we kissed I felt guilty that I had cheated on Cerys and that would make me no better than Josie and so I drank some more and then I was nervous about sex with Cerys, and then I kept thinking about you and kissing you. Then me and Cerys tried to have sex but that didn’t work and after she left all I kept thinking about was you, about coming here and kissing you and making love to you and I didn’t want that, so I drank a bit more because really I did, I always have and—’
‘Shhhhh,’ Libby soothed, bending his head down and kissing his forehead.
Oh God. He had to close his eyes quick because, naively or deliberately, she had put his face almost to her breasts. She was wearing a low-cut t-shirt and his mouth was now almost touching her cleavage. He had to keep his eyes closed so he wouldn’t be tempted to slide his hands up her ribs and touch them. Or kiss them. He opened one eye. She had a tiny freckle just above her left nipple, and he wanted nothing more right now than to kiss it.
He let out a frustrated sigh, which to his surprise sounded like an angry snarl. Libby jolted slightly in shock.
‘I should go, I shouldn’t have come,’ George said, his voice thick with anger and desire.
‘Why did you come?’
‘Because I wanted you so badly.’
Shit. That was subtle, wasn’t it?
He moved his head up to look at her, waiting for the look of revulsion, or the ‘I only want to be friends’ speech, but she was still holding his face, her eyes kind.
‘Can I kiss you again?’ On the inside he could feel himself dying with embarrassment – had he no shame?
‘That depends.’
George moved his mouth to her jawbone and kissed it softly. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to look her in the face the next day, but right then he didn’t care. ‘What does it depend on?’
‘Well, if you are kissing me just because you are completely drunk and will regret it in the morning then I’d say you probably shouldn’t kiss me again. But if you are kissing me because you want to, because you really want to and not just for practice, then… yes.’
His head swam with the conditions. He didn’t really understand any of it, except he really wanted to kiss her right now and he was pretty sure she had just said it was OK. Only one way to find out.
And the next thing he knew he was kissing her. He waited for the slap round his face, or for her to push him off, but to his delight, she was kissing him back, wrapping her arms round him.
Quickly, before she changed her mind, he pulled away and kissed that freckle just above her nipple, which made her moan softly, then catching sight of another freckle on her neck, he kissed that too, which made her push her hips against his.
His mouth was back on hers again, her soft hot mouth against his. Fireworks exploded in his head, his heart, his veins. This was what kissing was supposed to be like, beautiful and amazing.
He could feel his lips on fire, his heart pounding against his chest. His senses were exploding, suddenly acutely aware of everything that was Libby. She tasted so sweet, like Starbursts, and she smelt of coconut. Her skin, as he stroked her face, was so smooth, so soft and warm. Oh God, now his tongue was in her mouth, exploring her, tasting her. What would she think of him? A tiny little moan escaped involuntarily from her throat, which made his heart leap into his mouth. Instinctively he wrapped his arm round her waist and pulled her tightly against him. Her hand tightened round the back of his neck, caressing his hair.
The kiss became more heated, more passionate, and he found himself rolling on top of her as the kiss continued. She looped her arms round his neck, kissing him hungrily.
He found his hands wandering down to her hips, and he moved his hands under her top, feeling her hot, silky skin around her waist, her back, her stomach. Then his hands moved back to her hips and slowly started to pull down her pyjama bottoms.
Chapter Seventeen
Her hand stopped him, pulling her bottoms back up.
He stopped kissing her. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s OK, it’s just… if you wake up tomorrow and regret kissing me, then you’re going to regret sleeping with me even more. I don’t want to be a drunken mistake.’
‘I would never regret being with you, Lib, I… I adore you.’
She kissed him fondly, on the head. ‘Kiss me like that when you’re sober and I promise you I won’t be stopping you.’
He grinned. ‘I better get sober quick then.’
‘Black coffee helps.’
He laughed, as he rolled off her onto his back and she found her place with her head on his chest.
* * *
Libby heard George’s breath become heavy, and fingered his hair, absently. Instinctively, in sleep, he pulled her tighter against him.
Oh God, that kiss. She had never been kissed like that before. Her heart had almost exploded with joy. When he had stroked her, it felt like her skin was on fire. And it was so tender, so soft, so…
So there was no going back now. She was falling for him; no doubt about it and she had to tell him. Well maybe not now, he was drunk. She would wait till morning and tell him that she thought she was in love with him, that that kiss had been amazing and the reason that their dates had been so successful was because they were so good together and they should give it a go.
First thing tomorrow, before he left, before he talked his way out of the kiss, she would tell him. Regardless of the outcome or his opinion of it, he had to know what she was feeling. He was her best friend, after all, and she told him everything.
* * *
George woke the next day, his head feeling like it had been ripped open. He was surprised to find Libby in his arms and was more surprised to find he was in her bed. He really had no recollection of getting into her bed. He thought back to the night before, which was a hazy, jumbled mess of images. He remembered coming home with Cerys and that Libby had been in his bed, and after that it all got a bit grey. He remembered kissing Libby in her flat, both of them giggling like naughty school kids. He remembered kissing her in her bed, and he remembered making love to her, beautiful, amazing sex. But as he still had his shorts on, it was quite unlikely that had actually happened. So had the kissing in the bed not happened either, had that been part of a dream as well?
He forced himself to remember. But the sex seemed so real, so vivid, he wondered if they had.
He quickly checked under the covers to see if Libby was wearing any clothes. She was wearing pyjama bottoms and a low t-shirt. So definitely no sex but, as he spotted a tiny freckle on her chest, a memory jolted in his brain about kissing her there.
George quickly put the duvet back over her.
He had to remember last night. He had a feeling it was important.
Something. Something he was going to do when he was sober, something she wanted him to do when he wasn’t drunk.
He sighed. No more memories were forthcoming.
Suddenly his phone exploded into life next to him, echoing round his brain. Libby gave a little jolt as the noise dragged her from her sleep. He didn’t move. He just continued to hold her, closing his eyes against the pain of the ringing.
‘George,’ she mumbled sleepily. ‘Your phone.’
‘I can’t, Lib, it hurts too much,’ he muttered.
‘Answering it will stop the ringing.’
He ignored it and eventually it stopped. She cuddled back into his arms again.
A few minutes later it started ringing again.
‘Make it stop, Lib, make it stop,’ he murmured.
She rolled ov
er on top of him, fished his phone out of his discarded jeans and was about to answer it when she spotted the caller ID.
‘It’s Cerys,’ she said, quietly, holding out the ringing phone for him.
He took the phone and she moved to leave, but he caught her arm and pulled her back, enveloping her in his arms. He cancelled the call, diverting it straight to the answer machine, then turned the phone off.
Silence descended on them and he closed his eyes, wanting sleep to take him, thinking that maybe when he was less hungover things would be clearer.
‘George, what are you doing?’
‘I’m sleeping, Lib.’
‘I meant cancelling a call with your girlfriend, and holding me in your arms. Isn’t it sort of supposed to be the other way round?’
He kept his eyes closed. ‘She’s not my girlfriend, she’s someone I’m dating, there’s a big difference.’
‘And what does that make me?’
‘The most important person in my life.’
There was a long silence.
‘George?’
‘Shush, woman, let me sleep.’
He closed his eyes again, pulled her tighter against him, and drifted back off to sleep.
* * *
George woke later to Libby shifting round on the bed. He opened one eye and looked at her. She was sitting up, stretching her arms widely above her head. She turned round to look at him, and grinned when she saw him awake.
‘Hey you.’
‘Hey.’ He smiled, reaching out and resting his hand on her knee.
‘How’s the head?’
‘A bit better.’
‘And do you remember anything from last night?’
He shook his head, and winced because it hurt to do so. ‘Not really, just flashes, I’m not sure how much of it actually happened and how much was me dreaming. I remember us having sex, but that didn’t happen, did it?’
Her eyes widened. ‘You dreamt we had sex?’
‘Apparently, if it didn’t happen, I must have dreamt it.’
Libby laughed. ‘You had a sex dream about me?’
He nodded.
‘Oh my God, that’s so funny, was I any good?’
‘It was amazing.’
‘That’s brilliant,’ she laughed, then to his surprise she blushed. ‘Would you like some breakfast?’
He nodded.
‘Full English?’
He beamed. ‘Yes please.’
She rolled off the bed and padded out into the kitchen. She came back a minute later with a glass of water and some painkillers. He kissed her hand and she left again.
He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, smiling to himself. The night before had been weird. He remembered the attempt at sex with Cerys, which had been awful, and kissing Libby, which had been fantastic. She had kissed him back, he definitely remembered that. What was going on? The first time he had been on a date with a woman in years and he was in the flat opposite kissing his best friend.
Libby came back in a few minutes later, carrying two plates of breakfast. He sat up to take his plate and she settled down next to him.
He kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you.’
She smiled as she tucked into her breakfast.
After they had finished, he put his plate down and lay down with his arm round her.
‘No, you’re not going back to sleep, you’re going to have a shower, and you should probably get on with some work, God knows I need to. Come by later and we’ll go for a walk, that will blow the cobwebs out.’
‘OK, OK, I’m up. I’ll have a shower, I promise,’ George said, forcing himself into a sitting position. He pulled his jeans on and, kissing her on the forehead, he left.
But as soon as he got back into his flat, he collapsed back onto his bed.
His head was still woolly, his memory nothing more than a blur. There was a reason he didn’t drink, hangovers knocked him out for the rest of the day.
He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
* * *
Finally, later, much later, he felt able to get up. He showered and dressed and walked over into Libby’s flat, but as he walked into her lounge he leapt back in shock. Walking towards him, arms outstretched, was a headless body, wearing his favourite sweatshirt.
‘George? Is that you?’ came the mumbled disembodied voice from within the folds of his sweatshirt.
He stared at Libby, in amused confusion.
‘Well, if it’s not George, if it’s a burglar, would you mind helping me before you steal all my precious jewels?’
He quickly ran to stop her from bumping into the wall. He caught her in his arms and instinctively she put her hands on his waist to steady herself.
‘Do you have many precious jewels then, Lib?’
‘Tonnes, all in the vault out the back. George, can you help me?’
‘What’s up?’ he asked the headless figure before him.
‘My hair is caught in the zip, and it won’t move up or down and I can’t get the bloody thing past my head now. I’ve been stumbling around like this for the last five minutes.’
‘Why didn’t you come and get me?’ George carefully took the zip and tried to ease it down.
‘Well partly because I thought you would laugh and partly because I couldn’t find the front door.’
‘Honey, of course I’d laugh, but mostly after I’d helped you.’
Libby laughed but then the laugh turned to a squeal as he tried to force the zip past the clump of hair.
‘Sorry Lib, let me try something else… by the way this sweatshirt looks very familiar.’
She was quiet for a moment. ‘Does it?’ She giggled. ‘I wonder why that is, you’ve probably seen me in it quite a bit, it is one of my favourites.’
He smirked as he carefully pulled strands of hair from the teeth of the zip. ‘And where did you get it from?’
‘Um…’
He saw her twisting round inside to get a look at the label at the bottom.
‘It’s from Prague,’ he whispered in an aside.
‘Prague,’ she said triumphantly.
‘Really? Prague? And when did you go to Prague?’
She giggled. ‘I haven’t but I have a friend who went and he bought it for me.’
‘Really? Are you sure he bought it for you, it seems a bit on the large side?’
‘I like them big.’
He rolled his eyes at the innuendo.
‘Besides, this one has the best smell in the world, that’s why it’s my favourite.’
He stepped closer to smell it. ‘What does it smell of?’
‘You,’ Libby said, her grip instinctively tightening round his waist. He looked down at her hands and smiled.
‘Lib, I can’t do this, I need to cut your hair from the zip. It’s caught up pretty bad.’
‘NOOOOO!’ she wailed. ‘Not my precious locks, I’m like Samson, my strength is in my hair.’
He sat her down on the sofa and grabbed a pair of scissors. ‘Well I guess that makes me Delilah.’
‘NOOOOOO!’ she sobbed theatrically.
‘Shush, woman, I’m trying to concentrate.’
George carefully cut away the hair that was attached to the zip. When Libby was finally free of the zip, he gave the zip a big yank and it came loose, freeing her from her prison.
She pulled the sweatshirt down and looked at him. She looked all dishevelled and gorgeous. ‘How bad is the damage?’
He pulled a face. ‘You’d hardly notice it, Lib.’
She shrugged. ‘Fancy a walk?’
He nodded and he watched her put her trainers on.
‘So…’ she said, almost shyly, ‘last night?’
George groaned. ‘It was a disaster, Lib, a horrible mistake. You know those moments you wish you could rewind and do over? If I could do it over, I would never do it at all.’ He shuddered for effect, but stopped when he saw the look of hurt cross her face. ‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ Her jaw s
et determinedly as she walked towards him. ‘Just thinking I’m pretty glad we didn’t have sex last night.’
He felt hurt by this.
‘Oh don’t look at me like that, like I’ve wounded you in some way,’ she snapped. ‘You can deliver a death blow yourself. So that’s all last night was, a drunken fumble, a horrible drunken mistake, never to be repeated?’
He looked at her in confusion. ‘What are you talking about, what happened last night?’
‘Oh, I’m glad it was so memorable for you.’
Libby stormed past him, slammed the flat door and ran onto the beach. George stared after her in shock, watching through the window as she kicked a large stone in her path.
He ran after her, running onto the beach in her wake.
‘Libby, stop.’
She turned round, her hair flying theatrically behind her.
‘Look… I’m not sure what I did last night. I was more drunk than I’ve ever been, but I’m sorry if I did something to upset you. That’s the last thing I want.’
‘What you did last night didn’t upset me, it’s your attitude to it today that has.’ She turned and walked away from him.
* * *
Libby went down to the sea. She stood staring at the water for a moment, then took off her trainers and stepped into the icy waves. She rolled her jeans up to her thighs and waded out until the water covered her knees.
She watched the icy water surging past her legs, the white-tipped waves rising towards her then crashing behind her onto the shore. The sea, even when it was grey and rough like today, was still beautiful.
For George to kiss her like that in bed the night before and then dismiss it as a horrible drunken mistake, that hurt. Mostly because for her, the kiss had been beautiful and amazing. It had made her fall further in love with him, whilst for him it had been nothing more than a drunken fumble. Or maybe he had just tried to laugh it off because he was embarrassed by trying it on with her. Still, she felt weird about it. Waking up in his arms this morning, she had thought about waking up in his arms every morning, and how much she actually wanted that. But tonight he would probably go back to Cerys; maybe tomorrow even wake up with her in his arms instead.
