“Henry has,” I said automatically, without thinking. “He went to their baby shower last weekend. He says she's really nice.”
Gemma's brow lowered for a second. “Who's Henry?”
My stomach dropped; whoops. I shrunk a bit in the seat. “My boyfriend...”
The expression on her face... “Boyfriend?” she looked over at Sarah for confirmation I wasn't messing with her.
“Yup,” Sarah said, and then gave me a weird look, like 'why would you say anything?'
Gemma took her hand off my thigh and sat back, quiet for a few moments. Her disappointment was actually palpable. I felt stupid, like I should apologise for not telling her sooner.
“You're straight?” Liz asked me, like she'd just found out everything she'd ever believed was a lie. “Okay, I'm sorry for just being out there like this but, seriously: what?”
I remembered Gemma's hand on my thigh. Apparently not, I thought, and then panicked. “It's fine,” I said, and then it all just suddenly caught up with me and even the several litres of alcohol wasn't a match for my adrenaline. “I think I'm going to go get some fresh air for a second,” I said, fanning myself momentarily with the drinks menu. “I've had a bit much. Sorry.”
A fucking oracle as always, Sarah grabbed my wrist as I climbed awkwardly over her to get out of the booth. “Don't leave yet,” she told me sternly. I nodded, and then made a beeline for the hallway.
The beer garden was closed, but there was a quaint little brick courtyard filled up with cleaning equipment and other stuff that was unlocked. I slipped out into it, staggering and knocking over a pile of crates in the process. Rather than just picking them up, I sat on them.
Fuck.
I wanted to just ignore the fact I'd been really attracted to Gemma. I spent a few seconds chalking it up to too much alcohol and how much I'd enjoyed making her blush, but that hadn't had anything to do with what I'd felt. And I didn't just like it on an emotional level the way I generally did with Henry, either. This was different. I'd felt it. Under my hand, in my stomach, and—I winced—well, everywhere you would ordinarily expect to feel something like that.
At least I wasn't having a full on panic attack over it; I'd had too much alcohol for that. Even with all this dumped on me, I felt far too relaxed. Kind of good, actually, I really liked when I'd drunk enough to reach that point that I could close my eyes and just kind of drift away on my thoughts... I'd have to make sure I drank bucket loads of water before I went to bed, though, or I wouldn't feel like getting out of it. Then Bree would be stuck with me tomorrow while I slept in and felt sorry for myself. Although, maybe if I was lucky, she'd just get into bed with me...
I opened my eyes wide again.
“Hey...” a voice said from the doorway and I had to try and conceal how startled I was.
I looked over, and Gemma was leaning on the door frame. Because there was light coming from the kitchen window, I could see her much better out here than I could inside. I'd actually pegged her colouring a bit wrong; I'd thought she was a dark brunette, but now I could see auburn highlights in her hair and a dusting of freckles across her face. It was gorgeous. She was gorgeous. I felt nervous again.
“Hi,” I said, and then looked around me at all the fallen crates. “Just in case you were wondering, they were already like this, I swear.”
She chuckled. “Sarah said you had a habit of taking off, so I thought I'd just come looking for you and try to convince you not to.”
I laughed once. “Good luck,” I said, and then patted the crate beside me. I pointed up at the gap of sky a couple of levels above the courtyard. It was completely overcast. “Want to stargaze with me?”
She came over and sat next to me, wobbling a little on her heels. She was at least as drunk as I was. Maybe because of that, she didn't say anything straight away, and I was too fucking nervous about her sitting that close to me to think properly myself.
She did speak eventually. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't mean to, you know...” she gestured vaguely at my knee. “Don't leave because I can't keep my hands to myself.”
I shook my head tightly. “I should have told you earlier.”
She laughed nervously, shifting on the crate. Her nervousness was actually really gorgeous, too, and I would have been much more affected by that if I wasn't terrified about the fact that we were both out here alone. I was actually shaking a little, but I managed not to make it obvious.
“It's just...well, it's a bit of a surprise for me, I don't normally go for girls, but it's like you're—”
“—it's fine,” I interrupted her, completely fucking agreeing with her. I didn't want to talk about it, though. It was the last thing I wanted to talk about. I'd barely come to terms with the other stuff that was going on for me, and now this. In case she was going to try again, I repeated, “It's fine.”
“Is it?” she asked, and there was something more about that question. I was terrified of looking at her—almost to the point of feeling a bit ill—but I did anyway. Once I did, it was too late to look away.
She was watching me so attentively, her eyes dipping between my face and my body. I don't know what she found so interesting about it, and while I was trying to figure that out, she looped a hand around the back of my neck under my ponytail and pulled me down to kiss her. I froze.
Her lips were so soft, much softer than the ones I was used to. I was so completely shocked that I just kissed back out of reflex, but when the blades of our tongues touched she made this noise at the back of her throat... Fuck. I felt it somewhere deep inside me. That wasn't alcohol.
For just a second I started to wrap my arms around her, but instead of Henry's big, strong body, she was this smaller, softer version. Alarm bells were going off everywhere in my head, but I could hardly pay attention to them because of how wasted I was. What I could pay attention to was how she felt against me, right up against me, pressing up into me and kissing me and touching my neck and god, that dress was so short and her thighs looked so good and okay, no, I needed to stop, fuck, I needed to stop, this needed to stop!
I pulled back far more forcefully than I'd intended. I was breathing heavily, and I had no idea if it was from panic or the fact I'd been about to get really into that. “I can't, I can't do this,” I said, and it sounded like a plea.
“I'm sorry,” she repeated, looking horrified at herself. “Shit, Min, I'm wasted, I'm really sorry!”
I stood up, because I couldn't be trusted to sit next to her for a second longer. “It's not your fault,” I said, losing the fight against how much I was shaking. I went to change how I was standing to hide it, and instead of succeeding I nearly fell backwards over another set of crates.
She tried to help me stand up, but I couldn't let her touch me anymore. “This isn't your fault,” I told her, taking a step away from her. “I actually am going to 'run off' again. But it's not your fault, okay? You're gorgeous. I can't stay here tonight or I'm going to do something I'll regret.”
She was still looking really angry with herself. “Okay,” she said, nodding. “I get it.”
I mirrored her nod, still breathing heavily, and then went straight for the exit. I could just text Sarah later; from what she'd told Gemma it sounded like she knew I was going to leave, anyway.
I walked briskly out onto the street, thinking I was probably right just to try and make my way home unassisted. Actually, though, I wasn't really that sure how I made it home. I managed somehow, and I didn't get robbed, or murdered or hit by a car despite the fact I was all over the place. It took me five or six swipes with my keycard to get the door to open, and when I went to go put on something cooler than a hoodie, I saw I had Gemma's lipstick smeared all around my mouth. I'd walked out of the pub and home like this?
I propped myself upright against the wardrobe, staring at my reflection. Now that I was home and everything was normal again, I could hardly believe what had happened. If it wasn't for the lipstick, I may have thought I was so drunk tha
t I'd been hallucinating.
Once I'd washed my face, I sat back down in front of my laptop, in my drunken haze determined that the solution to feeling like everything was completely out of control was to finish reviewing the graphics. At the very least it would mean that I wouldn't have to do it when Bree was over tomorrow and I could just relax and have fun with her.
I couldn't concentrate on photos of landscapes, though, I could only think two thoughts: how amazing it had felt to be really attracted to someone, and how fucked up it was that I was feeling that way about a girl.
I was stuck on the see-saw of those two thoughts for god knows how long, until I caught sight of a photo that actually mattered on the other side of the room: me and Henry in Queensland together.
Henry. I squeezed my eyes closed for a moment.
Yeah, 'conscious' wasn't going to work for me right now, I decided, standing up and weaving haphazardly across my apartment towards my bed. With any luck I'd just pass out and wake up remembering absolutely nothing that had just happened.
FOURTEEN
For a few beautiful seconds after I woke up, it felt like any other weekend. The sun was peeking through the blinds and hinting at a great day to do work on the balcony, it was kind of a pleasant temperature, and if I checked what time it was, maybe I could... not move my head at all because wow it hurt.
I rolled onto my back very, very carefully, and bits and pieces of last night started coming back to me. I'd been drinking, obviously, and since I had lots of different memories of Sarah refilling my glass, I could hazard a guess that it was a lot. I clearly remembered coming out to her and it being a huge relief, and then after that things started to get a bit hazy. One memory shone through the rest: Gemma. Not really her herself, but how much fun I'd had flirting with her, how terrified and exhilarated I’d felt when she’d touched me and then how we'd ended up pashing in a courtyard.
I’d never been turned on like that. At the time it was wonderful, but In the light of day, all I could do was lie in bed and be absolutely horrified that I'd let it get that far.
Min, I thought. How could you? Henry would never go behind your back with someone else. He's done absolutely nothing except be there for you through everything. How are you going to tell him that you cheated on him?
I couldn't figure out what I'd say. I felt sick, angry at myself and almost numb to what I'd done. What was I going to do? I didn't know, and my head was killing me, but I had to do something about it.
I sat up very slowly in bed. I could see myself in my wardrobe mirror—I didn't get any prizes for guessing how I looked—as I very carefully stood and walked into the bathroom. I was nearly out of my strongest painkillers. I popped the last two out of the phial and then cupped water in my hands from the tap to swallow them. Since I was in there, and because I felt kind of gross from having been so drunk last night, I decided to have a quick shower, too.
At least, I'd planned on it being quick, but the water was warm and I was feeling so fucking awful that I just leant my head against the tiles and let it run over me as I stressed about last night. Being physically relaxed did actually make everything seem a bit clearer, too; I was beginning to understand why Henry kept shoving his whole 'the mind and the body are one' mantra down my throat.
What would he really think about what had happened, though? Level-headed Henry? With my own very un-level head against the warm tiles, I tried to copy the way he worked through everything.
Okay, Min, so, you were turned on by a woman and she kissed you. Does that actually mean your relationship with Henry is doomed? With some relief, I sighed. No, I thought easily, of course not. There were even pop songs about it, and for there to be pop songs about it, it must have meant that it was actually a really common occurrence. I did need to ask myself why it hadn't happened before, though, because I'd been around attractive women in the past and had no desire to do anything with them. Then again, I'd never been able to relax around women, so maybe that was the key: bucket loads of wine.
While I was on that point, I had a really heartening thought. What if just being relaxed enough to go for it was the key to me being turned on in general? Maybe I was still mostly straight after all, just too stressed out to ever enjoy myself. Henry was coming over tomorrow, which would be a great time to see if alcohol made the difference. God, it would be wonderful if I could just figure out how to enjoy sex with him, then I wouldn't have to dread it rolling around every two or three weeks.
The painkillers were already starting to kick in by the time I got out and got dressed, which was a mixed blessing. It was nice to not be in serious discomfort, but I just kept thinking about that kiss and needed to keep repeating to myself that everything was fine and that I didn't need to worry about it. I had been sitting on the edge of my bed wondering how the hell I was going to get through today without going nuts, when I remembered it was Saturday.
I sat up straight. That meant Bree was coming over today, I thought, and felt better. What time was it? I leant stiffly over to my bedside table to grab my phone. 10:02AM, it read, which was a bit of a letdown because Bree was due around midday. I turned it over a few times in my hands as I thought about it. I didn't feel like waiting a couple of hours for her. I mean, I had work to do but I just couldn't face any of it, and I didn't want to be stuck here, hung-over, and on the verge of a completely unnecessary meltdown over something that wasn't a big deal and didn't mean anything.
What's the harm, really? I unlocked my phone and typed Bree a message. “Hey, feel like coming over a bit earlier?”
She didn't take very long to reply. “funny u say that...................”
I looked up from my phone, suspicious. I had a feeling I was beginning to get how Bree was.
To check my theory, I stood up carefully and walked down the hallway, stopping in front of my door. When I opened it, I actually wasn't surprised when a small teenager who'd been sitting against it and listening to her old iPod fell backwards inside. She looked sheepishly up at me from the floor with her curls fanned around her. “Hi...”
She was silly, and terrible, and I was so pleased to see her. Despite the fact my whole body ached, I helped her up. “You don't have to sit out there all morning and wait,” I told her. “If you hold your hand like this,” I made a fist, “and you bang it a few times against a surface like a door…”
She let me pull her up and then brushed the creases out of her skirt. “You can't really say that when you keep going off at me for showing up here,” she pointed out as she straightened. “You said you hate it when people do that, so I was being good and waiting.”
“Yes, but when did you ever listen to anything I asked you to do?”
“Hey, I listen to you!” she protested, and then went to give me a big hug just like she'd done several times before. This time, though, I bristled a bit when she touched me. She must have felt me go stiff as a board, because she let go and looked up at me with a frown. “What's wrong?”
That was a good question. I felt really strange this morning. “I'm probably still a bit out of it from last night,” I decided aloud. “I had a really big one.”
She squinted up at me. “Yeah, I can tell,” she said. “You look even worse than you did on Tuesday morning. Why do you keep doing that?”
I laughed bleakly. “Because everything continues to be stressful.” I opted to not tell her any more about last night. It wasn't important, anyway. “And how are you? Is everything okay?”
She echoed my bleak laugh. It was such a strange thing to hear from her. “Pretty much the same as you,” she said, bracing herself against the wall as she slipped off her thongs. “Everything sucks, and it keeps on sucking, and it doesn't fucking stop. I can't get drunk at home like you can, though.”
“So what do you do?”
She shrugged. “Nothing.”
I sighed. We were such a pair of sad-sacks today. “I think you had a great idea earlier in the week,” I told her, shooting her a grin as we walked into
the living room. “Fuck everything, let's just run away together.”
That made her laugh properly. In the middle of it, however, she suddenly stopped laughing and stood in place. After a few moments of consideration, she looked thoughtfully up at me. “Okay, I know you're joking about running away, but why don't we just do it?”
Hah. “Because there's this thing called work that I—”
“No, silly,” she said, interrupting me. “I don't mean, like, fly off to Canada forever or anything like that. I don't even have a passport. I mean just... I don't know, just go somewhere for a day. Somewhere like miles away where there's no one and we can just pretend everything is great?”
While I was wishing such a mystical place actually existed so I could buy real estate there, she'd already taken off on that idea at a million miles an hour. “Yeah, like maybe in the mountains or something? There are some really nice parks there.” The more she thought about that, the more excited she sounded. It was fun to watch her transform from miserable into enthusiastic in such a short space of time. “Actually, that's a really great idea! You can just look like whatever you want, because it's not like you can wear heels in a national park, can you? And maybe we can go to this place that I used to love when I was kid. Anyway, come on! Let's do it! You have a car, right?”
“Well, yes...” ...but I could count the number of times I'd driven it on two hands. I kept needing to replace the battery in it because I hardly ever turned it on.
“Then...?” she said, leaving the sentence in the air and squirming around in front of me.
Honestly? She could have suggested anything right then; there was no way I was ever going to say no. I had this really weird sort of disconnected feeling about everything, and I was too tired and hung-over to argue with Hurricane Bree. And, anyway, this was Bree we were talking about. If she had her heart set on it, she was going to find some way to get me to do it. This time, though, I actually quite liked her idea. Road trips could be fun. I hadn't done something like this in ages and 'completely different' sounded like the shake-up I needed to stop those thoughts about last night creeping in.
Under My Skin Page 29
