Lastly Tom. Dear Tom. I wouldn’t even know if Tom had lost his virginity yet. That’s how little I know of him. Theo was the closest to Tom. They used to talk in a language none of us could understand. They’d speak in cultural references and soon lose everybody else. Tom is a genius. He’s the only true genius I know. People throw that term around, but a genius he is. He’ll invent something one day or sell a patent that will keep him in doobies for life. His skills are so specific though, you could probably ask him to boil an egg and he wouldn’t know how. Tom’s mother and father are in their seventies nearly. They had him when they were getting on and we never met his parents, who employed a childminder to drop Tom off at school and help him with his homework. It wasn’t until Tom was old enough to walk places that he used to come out with us when we’d go bowling or to the cinema or hang out at the shopping centre. Many of us thought that’s why he was so clever; perhaps in his early years the only pastime he had was reading books and absorbing everything. We’d ask him what his parents did for a living and he’d say they were spies. We’d all laugh about it, thinking he was bullshitting us, but perhaps he wasn’t lying. Maybe they never told him but he figured it out. Perhaps it was a false boast to ingratiate himself with the lesser mortals, who knows? His parents could be sex traffickers but we would never have believed that, either. Collectively we all had fairly ordinary upbringings, really. Our own situations are unique to us, but somehow altogether, we got through everything.
One of the things I most love about Cole is that he has never judged me for any of my choices or my background. He has always taken me for me and I realise now how rare that is; that even when I didn’t know it, he was still loving me just by accepting me for who I am. He has always given me breathing space to be my own person and to find out who I am, so maybe I’m nothing like either of the people who made me. Maybe I’m becoming more Cole’s… because he’s the one who’s put in more effort with me than anyone else I’ve ever known.
“Cole,” I whisper, “Cole, wake up. Time to wake up, baby.”
“Ugh,” he gargles. “Ugh.”
“Hey you,” I welcome him, when he opens one eye. “You can’t stay in bed all day. You’ll be awake all night.”
“Who says I can’t?” he groans, wrapping his arm around my bum and shuttling me towards him.
I’m pulled into him so the length of our bodies are touching, his heat to mine, skin on skin. I kiss his lips as we lie side by side and I fondle his hair, study the little lines around his eyes and the way his mouth is now creased with a little smile, the colour returning to his cheeks.
“You’re so beautiful,” I say, sighing as I look at him.
“Where’s my Chloe and what did you do with her?” he grumbles.
“I mean it, you are.”
“I can no way go again right now,” he says, rubbing his junk. “I’m pretty much out for the next twelve hours or so.”
I laugh fully in his face and groan, “But you’re so warm and big and nasty.”
“Chloe,” he warns, taking a deep breath.
I chuckle and press my face into his chest. “Then how about some proper tuck in your belly, eh?”
“That sounds bloody amazing,” he says, “I could go for the whole hog.”
“We’ll sort you out.”
I leave the bed and start running the bath so I can freshen up without washing my hair.
“Do not wear that jumper thing,” he shouts through, “or I’m liable to get arrested for public indecency.”
I arrive back in the room with my new knickers and pick up a pair, twirling it around on my finger. “Just know that beneath my baggy jeans and shirt, there will be these.”
He covers his face with his hands. “Strewth!”
I take out my phone and book a table online, delighted they’re not fully booked. I toss him the phone with the menu already up so he can have a look.
“We’re going to Red’s, baby.”
“Now I’m seriously hard,” he says.
“Down boy.”
Chapter Twelve
Red’s Barbecue in Leeds is truly the only place to bring a meat-loving Australian such as my man when he’s in town. I can see he’s in heaven as he snacks on crackling while we wait for our main meals to arrive. Such an occasion would ordinarily warrant my maternity jeans, but Cole doesn’t have to know all my secrets yet, does he?
“Do the guys know you in here?” he asks, with a sheepish look about him.
I don’t know what he’s getting at, but I tell him surely, “I don’t come in here. Why?”
“And you don’t know any of them?”
I look around, perturbed as to why he would assume that. “They’re all about twenty-one. I don’t know a single one.”
“Hmm.”
His face contorts and I’m still not sure what I’m meant to have done or what he’s getting at.
Our food is brought out and Cole’s eyes grow bigger than his belly. Let’s just hope his belly has what it takes to tackle wings, brisket and burnt ends, not to mention frickles and giant onion rings on the side looking just as filling and juicy. He didn’t order fries because he knows I will never eat all mine.
“Do you have all the sauces you want?” the waiter asks, grinning at me.
I blink a few times, staring back at the waiter, then I notice the other guys standing around in the kitchen, also looking at me.
“I’m sorry but is it standard practice these days to stare so hard at your customers?” I ask the man, and he flushes red.
“We just don’t get hot women in here,” he says, starting to back away, “sorry.”
I look around and it basically is just guys with their mates, obscene amounts of meat in front of them – even the Man vs Food guy would be impressed.
“Excuse me,” I call, and he ceases backing away. “Can I just say, little bit of advice. I know I’m wearing this impossibly daring outfit… jeans and a sweater and all, but perhaps next time you might want to consider you’re all ogling, you know, possibly someone who knows the law inside and out.” I watch him turn green, then nod slowly. “Thanks ever so much.”
The young guy walks back into the kitchen and proceeds to engage in an intense conversation with his chefs, who grin and go back to their work, pulling apart great hunks of meat and frying all sorts of stuff for their paying clientele.
“Chloe, you bad girl,” Cole chuckles, nibbling on a fried pickle – a frickle.
“Well, I’m not having my boyfriend feel uncomfortable.”
“I think it’s fucking funny,” he says. “These boys probably wouldn’t know where to start with a woman like you.”
“Oh, and you do, do you?” I smart, grinning at the same time as challenging him.
“Only you can answer that, babe,” he says, picking up an XXL wing and gnawing into it.
I pick up my chicken burger and the juice starts to creep down my hands and rolls down my wrists. I put it down immediately and roll my sleeves up.
“It’s like I’m giving them a fucking free sex show,” I giggle, and Cole looks behind him at the guys in the kitchen, not scared off, it would seem.
“You’re hot, Chloe. End of,” he says, “be proud of it. You’re also fucking smart. It’s an unbelievable turn on for nerds like us. Just get over it.”
I laugh in his face and throw one of my fries at him, which he catches and shoves in his mouth. He’s grinning as I pour some beer down my throat and glare. I suppose I do appeal to a certain type of guy, though I wouldn’t exactly call Cole a nerd. When we first met it was clear he was a surfer. His skin was drenched in sunshine and the freckles on his nose were a dead giveaway, not to mention the white skin above his severely brown knees. His wetsuit was cut so most of him never got the sun, especially when he was in England and would surf off Cornwall – where the suit was a must. I suppose he’s clever enough to be a nerd and he does like literature and films and does participate in the odd gaming session. But the only true nerd I know
is Adam, who is nerd through and through. And look how that turned out for me.
“Where did you go?” he asks, and I look down to see I’ve eaten half my burger without realising it – my mind elsewhere.
“Just thinking about when we first met and your white bits.”
“Oh, yeah?” He gives me this look, like he’s gone to someplace dirty inside his mind.
“You don’t have so many white bits anymore,” I complain.
“I live close to the beach and can mostly get away with surfing in shorts these days, but actually I do enjoy a beer on the terrace most evenings nowadays. I grab a stubby and sit there in my pants. Nobody sees me. Perks of living alone, I guess. Well, the only perk actually. I can walk around in my pants and it doesn’t matter if I have skiddies.”
I throw my head back laughing, even though I’m imagining him lounging around in just his boxers.
“I’ve never seen skiddies, but now I know to watch out for them.”
He shakes his head. “I would never stoop that low, you know me.”
I do know him. He’s incredibly well put together and always clean. He never smells of BO or anything else unpleasant. He’s one of those what you call well-groomed types. He’s never let his pubic hair get out of control. He’s mostly clean-shaven except for days like today, when he’s enjoying down time and a little stubble is pushing through, though it’s not that noticeable because he’s got a light-brown beard. I noticed in the past he even plucks the gap between his eyebrows, he’s never had any strange nose hair… and best of all, he always keeps his cock clean and tidy. I’ve been around the block and strangely, not all men do. Gross. Whereas Cole, he even shaves his legs occasionally and most certainly does his chest, too. I think for the surfing or whatever, or maybe just because he prefers to be super clean.
Cole gives me his megawatt smile, another of the gorgeous things about him. “You’re in such deep thought.”
“Maybe when I’m eating, it’s the perfect time to be thinking.”
“I can see that,” he says. “Although, we’re kind of on a date and I kind of don’t have a lot of time here, do I?”
“Sorry, so what do you want to talk about?”
I look across at his plate and notice he’s eaten most of his meat. He’s tackling the extras now, so I lift a handful of fries from my plate and plop them down for him. I’ve finished my burger so I’m focusing on the slaw I have left and a bunch of fries and pickles.
“Well,” he says, chewing into a fry, devouring it like he’s inhaling it. “Where do we see this going now? Things seem to have changed since I arrived.”
I nod my head. “I agree.”
“You agree?”
“Things have changed.”
He pours some beer down his throat and if there were any women worth their salt in this restaurant tonight, they’d also see what I can see: a bloody beautiful beast you’d drop your knickers for whenever, wherever. God, he’s immaculate. I will need him at least two or three times tonight.
“Stop thinking about sex, Chloe,” he demands.
“I am not!” I violently protest.
“I know you are.”
I reel from his assertion but can’t deny it. He invites sexual thoughts. My bad.
“Well…” I dip my fries in some slaw and whatever, stuffing them in my mouth, then washing it down with beer. “I have to work at this firm for a year. It was a challenge I set myself and I have to see it through. I worked at places before and didn’t see it through. To be honest, the bar was just another of the ways in which I was trying to delay the inevitable… so I just gotta do this, that’s all there is to it. If I quit after a year, it won’t look so bad and I can get employment elsewhere.”
“What is it? Like, six months you have left?”
“Five and a half,” I tell him, because I’ve been counting.
“And what then? What do you see happening then?”
I pout my lips and even though I know there are other eyes in this restaurant watching me, it’s only Cole’s eyes that make me feel self-conscious of how I’m acting and reacting – his intimidating questioning not making it any easier on me.
“What do you see happening?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, you don’t get to do that. You’re the one who knocked me back, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
His cheeks flush and the redness even creeps down to his neck a bit. I stab my fork into some fries and try to overfill my mouth so I’m unable to talk, but he’s sitting there with one hand on his beer and the other on his knee, waiting patiently. Which is a thing in itself. He is a meat lover and there’s still meat on his plate – no doubt he also has room left – but he’s more interested in hearing from me.
“Look, Cole,” I say softly, leaning in, “we both know that it was a knee-jerk thing. You popped the question with a fucking plaggo ring, for fuck’s sake. It was sweet and kind of cute but you didn’t mean it enough. If you’d meant it, there’d have been a proper thing planned… a proper ring. You were only doing it because you were too scared to actually ask me to stay and to do it all properly. It wasn’t thought out. It was kind of obvious it was just your way of trying to keep the adventure going. And that’s not what I want. Our adventure was what I wanted, and I really, really loved adventuring around Australia with you and wouldn’t change it for the world, not for anything in fact, but now’s the time to get real.”
“Okay,” he says, and gulps, looking down at the table.
“I’m not my mother,” I whisper, “because I know that when and if I do commit to someone, I want to be wholly sure about it. I don’t want to fuck it up. It has to be right. It has to be the best timing for both of us. We have to be absolutely sure.”
“I agree,” he mumbles.
“I do love you.” I reach across the table and touch his hand, and he looks up, relieved. “The one thing you did that you didn’t realise you were doing is you helped me love myself. And I’m going to make the best choices for me. It has to be that way or neither of us will be happy.”
He looks scarred and burnt, his teeth digging into his bottom lip, his face set like stone.
“What about where you want to live? Did you come back here because you were missing home?”
“A little,” I admit, “but it’s difficult to explain. I just knew I had to be here for Lily.”
He looks out of the window and then mumbles, “And your unfinished business.”
It’s my turn to go bright red and I put my elbows on the table, covering both cheeks with my hands and staring down at my mostly empty plate. All this time, he knew about my unfinished business. He knew and he put up with it and must have known that my inability to settle down was because of that unfinished business. Should I tell Cole that Adam basically told me at Christmas that there’s not a chance in hell of us ever resolving that unfinished business? Or will that only make things worse?
“I can’t help that,” I murmur, and when I look up, he’s picking at what’s left on his plate.
“I know, that’s what makes it even worse,” he says.
“It’s complicated but I swear I didn’t come back here to start something up with someone else. That’s not what it was about. I needed to get some distance. We were in each other’s pockets for so long, every day, day in, day out. I just needed to rediscover myself a bit.”
“And have you?” he asks, pressing me for more information that may or may not make or break us.
“I’m getting there,” I admit, “I am. I’m getting there.”
“Okay, so this is where I’m at,” he says, downing his beer and pushing his plate aside, now his dinner is demolished. “I’m laying my cards on the table so we’re not going back and forth and all that bullshit, okay?”
I press my hand to my lips. “Okay.”
“I want to stay in Australia,” he says, his skin gleaming with sweat as he gets the difficult stuff off his chest. “You know my family means everything t
o me. I want to be close to them.”
“I know that, Cole.”
“I also have a great job there, amazing prospects. I love the way of life. You know how much I love to surf and play cricket until midnight and go backpacking and spend time with the rents.”
I nod because I totally get all of that; I watched it while I was there; envied and wanted that for myself. A family, finally.
“And if you want to buy a plane ticket come June or July, then I will be there waiting for you on the other side and that’s literally all you need to do, is just buy a ticket. I will arrange everything else. Help with visas, get you into some kind of employment, or you could go back to volunteering or whatever, but what I’m saying is that all I need from you is to buy that plane ticket and mean it. Because I agree, it has to be right, we have to be sure. And if you’re sure, you’ll come and be with me, and if you’re not, well… then I’ll have to find a way to get over you somehow, won’t I?”
I shade my eyes to hide the tears balancing on my lashes.
“I’m ready right now,” he says, “and I’m sure. I’m certain I love you. And if you come, I promise my intention is to propose in the right way and to really mean it next time. My intention is to give you the life you deserve and make you happy. It’s as simple as that for me, Chloe. It’s just as simple as that.”
I nod my head, overwhelmed and overcome. It’s not exactly the place to be doing this… a busy, hot restaurant with loads of meatheads surrounding us and nowhere to hide beneath the glare of the lights and the other wooden tables next to us so close by.
I wipe my eyes quickly and reach for his hand, which he gives me. In fact, he wraps both of his hands around mine and kisses my knuckles.
I take a deep breath and give him my verdict. “I understand, I really do, and I want to put everything in order, I absolutely want that. I don’t want to be half in, nor do I want you to be. It has to be right.”
“Then we’re agreed, this is how it will be, if we’re going to do this?”
“Yes,” I submit, because even though I know deep down he would move here for me, I don’t want that. He has a family that gives a shit about him and I would kill for that. If we have a family in the future, I know his parents would be there for us no matter what. No matter when, day or night, they’d be there and he’d be there, too. I wouldn’t be alone anymore. It’s overwhelming just thinking about how much he’s offering me – more than I ever thought I deserved – and so terrifying is the prospect of ever losing him, but more terrifying is the thought of fucking it up and not being able to do a damn thing to put it right. I couldn’t live with myself if that ever happened to us. He means so much more to me than anybody else ever has. And that’s why I need to attend to my unfinished business and rectify something which never ended properly.
Bad Girl Page 10
