So when closing time rolled around she stood up with the last few customers and stumbled towards the door behind them.
“No you don’t,” I said calmly, pulling her back by the arm. She stared down at the gentle grip my fingers had around her forearm before following the trail up my arm and eventually landing on my face. She looked at me with a confused expression, blinking repeatedly as if she was trying to decipher if I was some sort of mirage. “Come sit down till I’ve finished clearing up.” It was an order – not a question. She either grasped that from my stern expression or she was too wasted to be assed arguing, because she made her way back to the circular table she’d been dancing on just a couple of hours before and plopped herself down on the sofa bench behind it.
After giving her a quick up and down with my eyes to make sure she didn’t look like she was about to hurl the entire night’s alcohol out of her system I headed straight for the cooler behind the bar and plucked out a bottle of spring water.
“Drink this,” I ordered in a soft tone with a firm undercurrent. She nodded weakly, taking the bottle from me. My knuckles brushed the back of her hand for the briefest of seconds when I pulled away and I swear I don’t know how I managed to stop myself from grabbing her entire hand and pulling her into me. That split second’s touch was all it took to remind me how soft she was. How warm, and gentle, and goddamn fucking perfect.
I heard her screwing the cap off the water as I turned around to gather the last of the glasses. After taking them through to the back I came back out and wiped down the bar before picking up the stools and standing them upside down on top of the tables, ready for Maggie to vacuum underneath in the morning.
I noticed Emily’s bottle was almost empty when I was not-so-strategically placing fresh beer mats along the counter. Hitching my legs up, I hopped straight over the high surface and pulled another bottle from the cooler. I took it over to her and waved it in front of her face, silently telling her to keep drinking. Again, with no resistance she popped off the cap and carried on glugging.
The silence between us was deafening. The air was thick. There was a giant fucking elephant standing right between us that neither one of us could seem to see past. Was I being an ass? Was she being an ass? Was I being inconsiderate by not asking if she was okay? Did she want me to ask her if she was okay? Did she even want me to talk to her at all? Maybe she was too intoxicated to form coherent sentences, so as the only person in the room capable of rational thought, I should probably be the one to make the effort. But what if she didn’t want me to make the effort?
Jesus Christ I was giving myself a freakin’ headache. It shouldn’t have been such a difficult decision. So, yanking my head out my ass I opened my mouth to speak… but she beat me to it.
“What’d I do, Dex?” she asked solemnly. In that very moment I knew what it felt like to have your heart rammed through a shredder and fed to a wild dog. I looked into her baby-blue eyes – unable to think of a single thing to say that would stop this excruciating throb in my chest.
“I…You… Just drink your water, doll.”
Chapter Eighteen
Emily
Why couldn’t he tell me what I’d done wrong? I got it – we weren’t friends anymore. But we were once upon a time so didn’t I deserve an answer before he started ignoring me again? We sat in uncomfortable silence for what seemed like a lifetime. Dexter stared at his hands, and in between much-needed sips, I stared at my water.
“I’m going to wake up tomorrow and want to die of shame aren’t I?” I said to no one in particular. Mainly because I didn’t know if Dexter would answer me or if he was back to being an ignorant pig.
“Why’d you do it, doll? Why’d you get so wasted? You don’t even like the feeling of being drunk – you told me that after the last time.” Now, to most people, drinking yourself into an obliterated fool wouldn’t warrant this kind of question. They’d have been having fun – letting loose. But not me. That’s not who I am and Dexter knows that. He knows me too well and I hate it.
“You don’t need to make small talk,” I replied acidly, even though it was me who started the conversation. Guess I’d forgotten that part. My brain was still a little woozy.
“I’m not. All that before – the dancing, the singing… that’s not you, doll. Something’s wrong and I want to know what.”
“Are you trying to be bloody funny?” I snapped again. His eyes sprang wide open like I’d just slapped him in the face. Like I’D just slapped HIM in the face. “Dexter I thought we were friends. Actually I thought we were more than friends. I felt things with you I’ve never felt for anyone before and it scared the crap out of me but it didn’t matter because I knew you’d make it all better. I trusted you dammit! I’ve never trusted anyone besides Chris and Rachel and even though I’d only known you a few weeks you made me think you cared.
“I laid myself right out there for you. You know things about me I’ve never been able to face telling anyone – not even my best friend in the whole world. And all because I wanted a teeny bit of that honesty from you in return you decide to just kick me aside like a piece of dog crap on the grass. You let me care about you. Jesus Christ, Dexter – YOU LET ME FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU!”
Dexter gasped. I gasped. I didn’t just tell him I loved him. I didn’t. I didn’t. I didn’t. I was drunk and I imagined telling him that. Yes that’s what happened.
Don’t argue with me. That. Is. What. Happened.
And so I carried on like nothing had happened. Because it didn’t. Remember?
“If I was just a game to help you get over whichever bird you’re losing then that’s… that’s…” I trailed off, wrinkling my face in disgust. “So who is she anyway? Blondie from sociology? Someone from back home?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said – or should that be lied.
“Don’t give me that crap. We’re not friends anymore remember? So why bother lying? It’s not like you’ll want anything to do with me this time tomorrow so you’re secret’s safe with me.” I was being outright nasty and I didn’t care. It felt like all the hurt, the frustration, the anger and confusion I’d experienced the last few weeks was firing out of me like a bullet directed at Dexter’s head. But I wasn’t sorry. He was the root cause of all those feelings. He deserved my anger.
“I heard you, Dex,” I continued just as snappily. “The night of your little orgy?”
“Don’t call it that,” he interrupted, sounding every bit ashamed of himself. So he should. “You know I’m sorry for what happened that night.”
“I bet you are. Bet you’re sorry you let slip about the girl you was losing eh? Sorry you can’t just screw me and lose me like you usually do with girls because you know damn well I’m not the kind to fall for that crap when there’s someone else involved.”
“Emily look at me,” he said earnestly, shifting his body so his face was right in front of mine. “I genuinely have no clue what you’re talking about.” God, he was a good liar. Must be all the years of practice.
“When you fell asleep on the floor that night, you mumbled something like ‘I’m losing her’. I didn’t think too much about it at first because we’re… sorry were, just friends. So why would it matter to me who was breaking up with you?”
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.
“Yeah. Shit,” I repeated in his guilty tone.
“You’ve got it all wrong. I don’t know what I said that night but… there’s no other girl.”
“So I suppose this is the part where you tell me you can’t remember the ‘amazing’ night with Blondie you had last Saturday either?” I barked, emphasising the word ‘amazing’ with air quotes.
“No. I know who you mean,” he admitted, and I felt so winded by his honesty I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able breathe again. “But it’s not what you think. Nothing happened.”
“Right,” I mocked. I didn’t know why I was still even sitting here. Actually, yes I did – I was s
till wobbly on my feet and I knew that if I risked standing right now I’d probably end up face-planting the pavement.
“I know you have no reason to believe me but it’s the truth.” I looked intently into those striking denim-blue eyes of his and they oozed sincerity. Regardless, I still wouldn’t allow myself to believe him. I would not trust this man again.
Ever.
“I won’t lie and say I planned it that way. I took her home with every intention of fucking her till I felt numb.” I inhaled a sharp breath and hoped he didn’t notice. I couldn’t let him know how much that sentence affected me. “It’s what I do, doll,” he confessed as if he knew what I was thinking – that he was a complete and utter dirtbag. “It’s how I switch off – distract myself.” He shrugged guiltily and stared down at his knees. “But I couldn’t do it. I tried… but her touch made my skin crawl.” He shuddered. Actually shuddered. For a brief second I wanted to reach out and touch him. It was like I could literally feel whatever pain was reverberating around his insides and I wanted to hold him – take it away.
Then I remembered he was a lying scumbag and that I hated him. What? I did. I detested him. Oh whatever. Think what you like.
“So I called it a night. I think she took that as me being a gentleman. It’s laughable really,” he added, forcing out a laugh that never reached his eyes. “I wouldn’t know how to be a gentleman if I tried.”
“Oh diddums,” I spat, hoping he’d take that as I didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him. “So what’d you need distracting from? The fact that you’re an arsehole?”
“Guess I deserved that,” he uttered. In truth he deserved a hell of a lot more than that.
“Or was it this girl you were losing?” I accused. “Rachel’s always said the best way to get over one person is to get under another.” I laughed humorously but immediately stopped myself when the muscles in his neck started to pop.
“YOU GODDAMMIT! I was trying to distract myself from YOU!” he roared. Then he stood up and marched over to the bar, smashing his fist into the wood. After shaking off his hand he sighed heavily before slowly turning around to face me, still keeping his distance. In my head I screamed ‘what the hell are you talking about?’ but I’m still not sure whether it actually came out of my mouth or not.
“Dammit, Emily…” he sighed, seeming exasperated as he ripped through his ruffled brown hair with his tense fingers. “You think I don’t care about you?” he snapped. Whoa, whoa, whoa… HE was annoyed with ME? The cheek of him! “You think I don’t think about you every single second of every single fucking day?”
“I…” I forgot what I intended to say before I said it so I closed my mouth.
“Emily,” he said sombrely. “I don’t want to feel this way about you. I don’t even know what it is I do feel. But I know whatever it is will only ever end up hurting you.”
I tried to speak again but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. Was I imagining this whole conversation too? I’m never drinking again. I mean it this time.
“I just…” He threw his head in his hands. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”
Neither do I.
“I’ve tried to forget about you. I’ve tried to move on – let you move on. But I can’t. You’re impossible to forget, doll and I fucking hate myself for it!”
“Why? I don’t understand any of this. I mean it sounds like you’re saying you care… maybe even more than a friend? So why are you so set on punishing someone you care about?”
“Ah hell no, doll. You think I’m punishing you? Christ I’ve really fucked this whole thing up,” he almost whispered, like he was talking to himself.
“This thing? And what exactly is ‘this thing’?”
“I don’t know.” He was moving closer to me now – the arresting scent of his aftershave assailing my nose making me dizzy. Then he paused just in front of the table but didn’t sit down. “Actually I think I know. But I wish I didn’t.”
“You know what? Screw this, Dexter!” I blasted, standing up from my seat. I planned to make a dramatic exit and storm out but I was still a little wobbly on my feet so I had to take a second to steady myself on the table. “I’m sick of you talking in riddles all the bloody time! I don’t know if you like me or hate me. If you want to be my friend, something more, or have nothing to do with me. And whatever this big secret is you’ve got going on that you clearly don’t trust me enough to tell, is quite frankly becoming a little FUCKING annoying! Unlike you I have no idea what the hell ‘this’ is,” I yelled, motioning my hand back and forth between us.
“All I know is when I’m around you – even now, arguing like crazy – I’ve never felt more alive. You make me feel safe. You make me laugh. You make me cry. You make me feel so many different things and it’s exciting, overwhelming and heart breaking all at the same time. So that’s what-” Suddenly I couldn’t speak. Not because the words had gotten lost on their way to my mouth, but because I physically couldn’t. Dexter’s lips crashed into mine and his hands were twisting in my hair, pulling me forcefully into him before I could finish the sentence.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t remember a single reason why I could ever be mad with this beautiful man who was making my whole body feel like it was on fire. I kissed him back instinctively – for the first time not needing to think about it, pre-empt my moves or wonder if the person attached to my lips felt nothing just like I did.
Because holy hell, I felt it. Goosebumps erupted wherever his skin touched mine. Every hair on my entire body stood to attention in anticipation – wondering if they were next in line to be touched – and delicious tingles ricocheted through my insides, pooling between my legs.
There was no doubt in my mind he was feeling it too. My hands wandered to the sides of his neck and his erratic pulse throbbed violently against my fingers. Rasping moans accompanied his every breath and he squeezed my body so tightly to his as he claimed my mouth over and over, I struggled to move - yet I still didn’t feel close enough.
He pulled away too soon, grazing my bottom lip between his teeth before sucking it gently into his mouth and then releasing it with a light pop. I swallowed forcefully and closed my eyes. I felt dizzy and disorientated and I couldn’t tell if it was the beginnings of a hangover setting in or the fact I had never in my life experienced anything even remotely close to the exhilarating sensations taking over my body just then.
“Fuck, doll,” he murmured against my forehead. “This?” he said, pointing his finger between us. “This… is the point of no return.”
We stood in that position – chests heaving against each other, fingers intertwined between our stomachs – for an immeasurable length of time. We didn’t speak. We didn’t kiss. We didn’t make eye-contact. We simply remained perfectly still in contemplative silence – both too afraid to ask the question, ‘where do we go from here?’
“I should go home,” I muttered reluctantly, breaking the blissful silence.
“Yeah. You should,” he agreed, making my heart do this weird flopping thing in my chest. “But you’re not going to,” he tacked on. I peeled my forehead away from his and looked at him questioningly. “You’re coming home with me.” It sounded like an order and I didn’t know if it was ridiculous of me to feel more than happy to obey.
But soon enough the nerves kicked in and coupled with the alcohol, I started to feel queasy. Was I ready to go home with him? What did ‘go home’ with him even mean?
“I just want to hold you, doll. Nothing more,” he clarified like he could read my thoughts. I nodded slowly – too busy concentrating on slowing my stuttering heart to form a vocal response.
“Rachel. I need to text Rachel,” I whispered under my breath. Dexter planted a soft, lingering kiss on my forehead, inhaling the scent of my hair as he did, before backing away and letting me reach for my bag behind the table.
Me: I’m staying at Dexter’s tonight. Long story, will explain tomoz. Hope ur ok. Xxx
/> As soon as I’d pressed send I realised I’d forgotten something.
Me: P.S. If ur sick on the floor u better clean it up before I get home ;-)
I know I had a cheek seeing as I was only a few breaths away from spewing myself an hour or so ago. But the minute I felt Dexter’s lips brush mine…I sobered up instantly.
Rachel: About fuckin time
Hold on - was she pro Dexter again now? If I’ve said it once I’ve said it a thousand times… I’ll never be able to keep up with that girl.
Rachel: P.S. Piss off. I’m sleeping
Giggling to myself while pressing the screen lock button on my phone, I turned to Dexter.
“We’re good to go.”
Chapter Nineteen
Dexter
Well I’d really gone and done it now. The second I tasted her I lost all control over where ‘this’ was heading. It wasn’t down to me anymore. I had no choice. I had to be with her. I knew the second I brushed my tongue over her perfectly soft lips, the very moment I got to twist those fiery curls around my fingers, the instant I felt her heartbeat race against my chest… that I wouldn’t be able to go a single day without experiencing that again.
I’d had one hit… and I was addicted.
“You feel steady enough to hold on?” I asked when we reached my bike. I think the concoction of water mixed with anger then stirred together with a little passion sobered her up wonders. Nevertheless she’d had a lot to drink – even by my standards – and so the last thing I wanted was for her to pass out on me while she was straddling the back of my bike.
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