Just My Luck

by Andrea Bramhall

  “Are you enjoying the holiday so far?”

  “It’s okay.”

  Not the enthusiastic answer I was hoping for, but not a disastrous one either. Probe a little deeper? Eh, why not? “Just okay?”

  Do you like my interview technique? I’ve been watching too many cop shows on telly.

  “Yeah.” Another glass of wine goes and another bottle is ordered from the waiter.

  “Rosie seems to be having a great time.”

  “Yes, she is. She’s spending all her time with her favourite person, and she’s on a boat. Which is her latest obsession. Why wouldn’t she be having a great time? Time of her life in fact. Great one, Rosie.”

  Now, one of the things I love most about Abi is how much she loves Rosie. How she cares for her and puts her first every single time. I have never heard her say a bad word about that kid, and as much as I love her, Rosie can try the patience of a saint sometimes. Abi is patient with her, gentle, loving, and understanding. Hearing the sarcasm dripping from the words aimed at the child actually hurt. Melodramatic, you say? No, I say. I want to know where this is coming from.

  “Oh God, ignore me. I’m drunk.”

  “Is there something bothering you, Abi?”

  She finishes another glass of wine and smiles. Her eyes are heavily lidded from the alcohol, and her hand trembles slightly as she put her glass down. “Not a thing.”

  She won’t look me in the eye, though. She keeps looking at her glass, which she’s twirling around on the table. I want to take her hands in mine and tell her that everything is fine. She can tell me anything and it doesn’t matter. She can tell me that I’ve been groping her, I’ll apologise, and move onto the sofa. She never has to worry about my traitorous hands caressing her body again. I’ll tell her that I’m sorry for snuggling up against her, that I usually cuddle a pillow or something. What can I do to make this better?

  “Abi, please tell me what’s wrong.”

  She looks at me for the longest time. It could have been a minute, it could have been an hour. I don’t know. What I do know is that she’s looking for something. Something in me.

  “I need to get out of here.”

  Whatever she’s looking for, I don’t think she’s found it.

  CHAPTER 19

  ABI

  I could tell you that the restaurant was lovely and the food wonderful, but I really don’t have a clue if they were. All I could look at was Genna. I didn’t taste any of the food they put in front of me, though I’m sure it was delicious. I did, however, partake in several glasses—i.e., a whole bottle—of red wine throughout the course of the meal to build up some courage. Dutch courage, but courage nonetheless. It didn’t work, so I had a few more glasses after the meal.

  I wanted to tell her that I’m sorry if my feelings towards her were making her uncomfortable. I wanted to tell her that I could control myself and just be her friend. I wanted to tell her that I only ever wanted for her to be happy. But I didn’t say any of it.

  I don’t remember what we talked about. I don’t even remember getting back to the boat. Or even to our cabin. I don’t remember paying the babysitter and sending her away. But I must have.

  In our cabin, Genna helps me into our bedroom, then sits me on the edge of the bed and takes off my shoes. I’m aware of watching her arse as she puts the shoes away. She asks me if I can undress myself or if I need help. My lack of answer must be answer enough because she kneels in front of me and slowly takes out my dangly earrings and puts them on the bedside table. She bites her bottom lip as she reaches around my back to unfasten my dress. I moan when her fingers touch the back of my neck, and my skin tingles everywhere she makes contact with me. She tries so hard not to look at me as the top half of my dress falls to my waist, my naked breasts aching for her touch. Her cheeks turn bright red when I grip her chin and turn her face up towards mine. Finally, that Dutch courage kicks in.

  “Genna, I have to do this.”

  I move towards her slowly, licking my lips as I near her. I want to taste her mouth, her tongue. I want to feel her breath against my face. Her eyes are dark; her pupils are wide, and there’s only one word to describe what I see in them. Desire. My heart skips a beat. She wants me. Right here, in this moment, she wants me. If it never happens again, I can be happy now because she wants me.

  The first touch of her lips against mine is soft and sweet and so very gentle. Just like her. And I have to have more. I move my fingers from her chin and slide them back into her hair, pulling her head closer as I press harder against her mouth. I flick my tongue against her lips, begging for entrance, and I moan when I’m allowed inside. I explore every inch of her mouth, her tongue, her teeth. Everywhere. I want to devour her. I want to make her a part of me, to be a part of her. The touch of her tongue against my own is like magic. It’s soft and silky, and this is like no other kiss I’ve ever experienced.

  The need for air drives us apart, and I look down into her eyes as she still kneels on the floor in front of me. They are still dark with desire, but tears glisten on her lashes.

  I’ve made her cry. My kiss has made her cry. My elation turns to fear. My desire crumbles in my chest, and I want nothing more than to hide. I have finally kissed her, and she’s crying.

  I flop back on the bed, wrap my pillow around my head, and turn over.

  What the fuck have I done?

  CHAPTER 20

  GENNA

  I keep playing it over and over in my mind. That perfect kiss. It was so perfect that I couldn’t stop the tears welling in my eyes. So perfect that for a moment, I could see the future, and every kiss I would ever receive from that moment on would be from Abi. It was so perfect that I could feel her hands all over my body, touching me, claiming me. Loving me.

  Then she passed out.

  I spent the night watching her—first, to make sure that she was okay, and secondly, just because I could. It didn’t feel wrong now to watch her. It didn’t feel wrong to want her. She wanted me too, right? Why else would she have kissed me? I know she was drunk, but drinking only gives you the courage to do the things you want to do, right? It doesn’t make you do things that you don’t want to do. So she must have wanted to kiss me. Right?

  So now what do I do?

  Do I take a chance and tell her I love her? Do I play it cool and see what she has to say? Do I run up and down the ship singing “hallelujah?” No? A shame, because that’s what I feel like doing.

  I haven’t slept all night, waiting for her to wake up sober enough for us to talk. I’ve got painkillers and water waiting on the nightstand for the moment she opens her eyes. But I still don’t know what to say to her.

  What did that kiss mean to her? Was it just a bit of curiosity? Was it a deep desire that she’s had for a while? Was it about me, or just any woman? I thought Abi had talked to me about everything, but obviously not. I have no idea where all this is coming from, and I desperately need more information from her. Information about how she feels. Specifically, how she feels about me.

  Am I brave enough to hear it?

  Can I take it if she says that she was just curious about kissing a woman and it had nothing to do with feeling anything for me? Can I take it?

  Probably not, but at least I’d know. And I can try to figure out a way to get on with my life.

  Do you know what? People are so fucking wrong when they think that money is the answer to every problem in the world. It isn’t. Without money, I’d still be working in a warehouse in Stockport, but I’d still be living with my girlfriend and have no clue that she was cheating on me with half of Manchester. I wouldn’t have found out that my gran has lied to me my whole life and that my dad is even more of a tosser than I already thought. I wouldn’t have all the press in the UK chasing after me. I wouldn’t have letters begging me to help people I don’t know, will never know, and couldn’t possibly ever really help in a month of Sundays. I wouldn’t have run away from said press on a cruise—for three weeks—with the woman
I’ve loved for as long as I can remember, wondering if she just kissed me because she’s pissed, because she’s curious, or because she actually has feelings for me. Life was so much easier when I was fucking poor. I was even relatively happy. Now I’m confused, miserable, and scared shitless.

  The door opens, and Rosie comes into the room.

  “Genna, I’m hungry.”

  I check the clock and am surprised to see that it’s almost eight. “Go get dressed, then, and I’ll take you to breakfast.”

  An hour later, I drop Rosie off at the kids’ club and go back to our cabin. The shower’s running, so I pick up a bottle of water and sit down on the bed to wait, sipping while I do.

  I freeze when the door opens and she stands there with just a towel wrapped around her body. A small towel. She freezes when she sees me too. I can see her swallow. I can see fear on her face, and my heart plummets. She coughs to clear her throat before she speaks.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  She grabs a T-shirt and pulls it over her head. I can tell she’s trying to decide what to say.

  “I’m sorry, Genna.”

  There it is.

  The three words I wish she’d say couldn’t be further from those. So do I stand up and walk away, or do I make her spell it out? Do I make her say everything? See if she can hurt me enough to stop me loving her?

  “For what?” I can feel the tears welling in my eyes again. I close them to try and hold them at bay, but her fingers against my cheek, wiping them away, tell me how unsuccessful I am.

  “For making you cry.”

  I try to wave her hands away. “I’m just being a baby.”

  “No, you’re not. But I meant for making you cry last night too. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  “Why did you?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to drag them back. I want to pull them back out of the ether and never have them darken my brain again. I don’t need to hear her say that she doesn’t care about me. I know it. I don’t need to hear that she was just curious. I know it. I already know that I’m not good enough.

  Her voice is barely a whisper. “I just couldn’t stop myself anymore.”

  Her fingers are still holding my face, but I can feel them shaking. Her eyes are closed like she doesn’t want to see my reaction.

  “I don’t understand. What do you mean you couldn’t stop yourself anymore?”

  That’s when she opens her eyes and I feel like I’m falling. I want to beg her to care about me the way I care about her. I want to promise that I’ll be everything she’ll ever want or need. I know I’m pathetic, but as I sit there waiting for the axe to fall, I swear it feels like maybe, just maybe—

  “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time. But there are so many reasons why I couldn’t. Why I shouldn’t. Last night, I guess I forgot them, and I couldn’t think of a reason not to kiss you anymore. I know you don’t feel like that about me, and I’m sorry I pushed last night. I didn’t mean to upset you. I won’t do it again. I need your friendship and I don’t—”

  “Wait.” Is she really telling me what I think she’s telling me? “Are you saying that you have feelings for me?”

  She drops her gaze until she’s staring at her own knees. “Yes. I’m sorry. I promise that I won’t let them affect our friendship.”

  “Actual feelings, romantic feelings, for me?”

  She’s still staring at her lap and just nods her head.

  “Not some sort of curiosity or something?”

  Her head comes up and her eyes zero in on mine. “No. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “So when you kissed me, you wanted to be kissing me. Not just any woman?”

  “Genna, I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time. I thought I could just go on being friends with you. I mean, you told me that you’re in love with someone else—”

  “I was talking about you.”

  “What?”

  “I was talking about you. You’re the woman I was talking about then.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You’re joking, right? I didn’t know you were interested in women, for a start.”

  “I’m just interested in you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think you are wonderful and beautiful and sexy.” Her fingers are stroking my cheeks again, slowly running across my skin. “And I really want to kiss you again.” She strokes the underside of my jaw. “Can I?”

  I tip my head to give her better access.

  “Please don’t cry again.”

  “I can’t promise that.”

  “Why did you cry?”

  “Last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because it was so perfect, the way you kissed me. I just couldn’t not cry.”

  “In that case, feel free to cry if you need to.”

  Then her lips cover mine. This kiss is different from last night. There’s more hunger to it, more passion. She isn’t tentative as she demands entry into my mouth and explores. She’s confident and assertive, and I can feel myself responding to each probing caress. Her fingers in my hair sends chills down my spine as her nails graze gently over my scalp. My own hands find her waist, and all I can do is hang on as our ardour grows. Her hands run down the length of my spine, then she pulls me tight against her body and falls back on the bed. She turns us until she’s hovering over me. Our lips still haven’t parted, and I moan into her mouth as she lays her leg over mine and I feel the hard, long column of her thigh press between my own. I drag my mouth from hers, panting, trying to pull oxygen into my lungs as her lips find my throat and she kisses and licks up and down. She nips on my earlobe before coming back to my mouth to kiss me again. Her hand slides up my stomach and gently cups my breast. Her thumb flicks across my hardening nipple, making me gasp.

  Every fantasy I’ve ever had is being fulfilled, but I know I need some time. I know I need time to adjust to this change. I know I need time to accept that she wants me this way.

  “Abi.”

  Her kisses cover my jaw and throat again.

  “Abi, we need to stop.”

  Her reaction is immediate. Her kisses stop, and she pulls back far enough to look at me, a small frown marring her forehead.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I can’t stop myself from reaching up to smooth away the line between her brows. “Nothing. I just want to slow things down a little bit. I don’t want to rush into anything.”

  “Okay.” The frown disappears, and she smiles at me again. “That’s probably a good idea.” She starts to sit up, but I hold her where she is.

  “I didn’t say you had to go anywhere.”

  She chuckles and kisses my lips quickly, chastely. “I think I should. If I stay here, I don’t think I can keep my hands to myself.”

  “In that case, it was a very bad idea of mine.”

  “No, you’re right. We have plenty of time.” We both sit up slowly and lean back against the headboard. Our fingers curl around each other’s. Our shoulders touch.

  “So, what happens now?” she asks so quietly, I almost don’t hear her.

  “What do you want to happen?”

  “I want to be with you. I want to make love with you.”

  “How about a date?”

  “A date?” She laughs. “Okay, when?”

  “Tonight. You, me, and Rosie. Leave the details to me.” I start to get up, but she pulls me back towards her.

  “You want to go on our first date with Rosie?”

  “I think last night was our first date, don’t you?” I watch her blush. “That’s how you wanted it, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. But you still don’t have to take Rosie—”

  “You and Rosie are a family. I have no problem with that. So, yes, you, me, and Rosie. Is that okay?”

  “That’s perfect.” She kisses me again, soft and gentle and slow. “You’re perfect.”

  I’m pretty sure that should have been m
y line, but I totally let her take it. Gallant, right?

  CHAPTER 21

  ABI

  The details turn out to be cheeseburgers, fries, and Cokes at the fast food restaurant and then onto the magic show in the theatre. It doesn’t sound like much, does it? But really, for us, it’s perfect. Rosie’s entertained with the toy she got in her meal, and it allows us to sneak longing looks across the table and hold hands underneath it. I love the way her fingers link with mine and her thumb brushes over the back of my hand.

  The magic show itself has Rosie on the edge of her seat. The seat in the middle of the two of us, I might add. When the magician asks a member of the audience to participate, Rosie is quick to volunteer Genna, whose face turns white as she’s walked up to the stage by Rosie, who then sits on the edge of the stage to wait for “her Genna” to finish the trick. The whole time that Genna is onstage, she’s looking right at me.

  Until they put her in the box to be sawn in half. Rosie sees the big saw and rushes the stage, determined, I’m sure, to rescue “her Genna” from the wicked, evil magician who’s going to cut her up. Eventually, the magician has to let Genna out of the box to stop Rosie from screaming.

  What am I doing throughout this little debacle?

  Simple.

  I see trouble coming and head for the bathroom. I don’t actually go in the bathroom. I wait at the door of the theatre, just in case they really do need me, and come back just as Genna and Rosie are taking their seats again. Coward? Yep, that’s me. Besides, Genna handles it perfectly well on her own. We gather our stuff and decide to leave before our bums hit the seats. We decide to take a little walk around the deck. Rosie refuses to let go of “her Genna’s” hand the whole time. Just in case the wicked magician comes back for her. On the way back to our cabin, Rosie falls asleep, and Genna carries her. I watch as she puts her to bed and gently tucks the covers up under her chin before kissing my little girl on the forehead and placing her glasses on the nightstand.

  Now, don’t get me wrong. I haven’t exactly dated a lot since I had Rosie, but I’ve been out with a few guys. Before I figured out how I felt about Genna, that is. On all those dates I went on, none of them felt like this. Maybe it’s because we’ve been friends for a long time and we know each other well. Maybe it’s because I already know how strong my feelings for her are and how long they have already lasted. Maybe it’s because she’s a woman. I don’t know the why, but what I do know is that watching her right now, I can see this scene playing out every night for the rest of my life. The details will change. Rosie will grow up and not need putting to bed anymore. We won’t always be at ill-fated magic shows or on cruise ships, but the thing I do know I want, the detail I don’t want to change, is having Genna by my side.