"Hey, Alex," Gavin said as she walked back to her seat. He was leaning on the bar, waiting for a drink.
"Gavin.”
"You're looking good.”
"Thanks. How's the girlfriend?"
"Turned into a bit of a bitch, actually.”
"Girls tend to do that around you.”
"Ouch. Maybe I deserved that one. I've made some mistakes in the past. I acknowledge it, but I am learning from my mistakes.”
"Well, I am glad you're experiencing personal growth," Alex said, wanting to move back to the table where her friends sat. She wasn't angry with Gavin anymore, probably because she was too distracted being angry with Marco, but she didn't want to talk about it either.
"I was thinking … we should go out for a coffee some time," Gavin said, turning to her directly and doing that stare he did which he thought was intense. Was he hitting on her? He was.
Why? she wanted to challenge. "Yeah, maybe," she said non-committally, which should convey exactly how excited she was about the idea.
"If you ever want to hang out—go to a movie of something, just give me a call.”
"I'll think about it," she said and turned back to the table. It was a bit rude just walking away like that, but seriously—like she’d hang out with him without a gun held to her head.
Gavin didn't take the hint and he came over and sat next to her, leaning back and placing his feet on the edge of the table. She wasn't quite rude enough to not hide her eye-roll. He couldn't seriously be thinking she'd get back together with him after he cheated on her. How stupid did he think she was? Or more likely, he probably thought he was so hot and she so desperate that even he'd look good. Yeah—no!
"Let's get out of here," she said to Jenny, plastering a painful smile on her face.
"Where are you going?" Gavin said.
"We're getting our nails done," Alex stated before Jenny mentioned what they were actually doing and Gavin invited himself along. She wouldn't put it past him. And she had no qualms being a bit of a bitch to him—if only for the fact that he remotely thought he had a chance with her.
Jenny got the message and grabbed her jacket. "Let's go.” They walked out waving to everyone, on one level feeling guilty about leaving them behind, and on another, it felt right because she didn't want to sit there all night, drinking. "What's up with Gavin?" Jenny asked when they got outside into the cooler air on the street.
"Gavin thinks he’s in with a chance.”
Jenny laughed. "He really isn't the brightest of sparks. I take it you wouldn't.”
"Jenny!"
"Just checking. You know some girls just lose the plot over guys who cheat. Well, I'm glad I don't need to talk you out of it.” Jenny was a little bit tipsy, but only enough to sober up in the next twenty minutes.
"I am done with flawed guys. I'm not dealing with guys’ issues anymore. I'm not going to settle for someone immature or stupid, or just … yuck. How could he seriously think I would consider it?"
"He thinks you're desperate.”
"Well, I'm really not.” And she would prove that to everyone, most of all to herself. She was not going to buckle, or swoon, or think she was worthless without a boyfriend. She was fine on her own and she didn't need anyone to validate her.
"I think you're going to have to tell him in no uncertain terms that it's never going to happen. Although considering its Gavin, you're probably better off telling him you've converted to lesbianism.”
"It's not a religion you convert to.”
"I'm pretty sure Gavin thinks it is.”
"What did I ever see in him?"
"I have a theory," Jenny said. "We date these guys when we're young to learn what we won't tolerate.”
"And Oh My God have I learnt," Alex said, rolling her eyes again.
* * *
Chapter 23:
* * *
Marco stood in the great big hall that was Victoria Station. It had seemed like a great idea at the time—'Let's meet at Victoria', but it was huge and crowded, and they could very well pass by each other without noticing. They should have been more specific. At least everyone knew they were taking the seven pm to Brighton. If nothing else, he could find people on the train.
Unfolding his printed ticket, he searched out the right platform and looked down at his wrist watch to see if he should wait longer or just go to the platform.
"Marco," he heard someone call and he turned around to identify where the call had come from, spotting Sarah standing quite far away. How she'd seen him, he couldn't have guessed.
"I can't believe how crowded it is," he said, when he reached her, his overnight bag slung over his shoulder.
"I know. Victoria is madness on a Friday night with everyone trying to get out of London. You got your ticket?"
"Yeah," he said holding up the paper his ticket was printed on.
"How was the wedding? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages.”
"It was good. Huge.”
"It must have been good seeing your family.”
"It was nice—everyone together. Didn't get to speak to my sister much; she was always rushing off somewhere.”
"Gets like that with weddings, I suppose. There's Dion," she said and waved frantically. "And Alex.” Marco felt a bit of a rush hearing her name. He turned to look at them and Alex was staring up at the big board showing departure times. He hadn’t realised she’d be coming, and he wasn’t entirely sure he was pleased.
Her hair was tied back in a ponytail which hung down in a sleek curl on her shoulder. She spoke to Dion, who finally spotted them with a head nod. Marco could practically see Alex's discomfort when she looked over and saw him.
"Hey," he said quietly when they got close.
She nodded to him, but didn’t say anything. Dion held his hand out for him, slapping his in greeting. Suddenly, he felt a bit tongue-tied and awkward. He wanted to have a better relationship than this with Alex, but it wasn’t proving easy. “Have you seen the others?”
“No, just you two so far,” Marco responded, wishing the others would turn up quickly. “Should we find the platform?”
“This way, I think,” Sarah said. Marco fell into step beside Alex, but didn't say anything. He wasn't sure how to deal with this. He wasn't even completely certain what he wanted the outcome to be. His little trip to Lichtenstein had proven that he had times when he missed her, and he wished they could get past this carefulness they seemed to have developed between them.
The others soon congregated on the platform and they found an empty area to claim on the train. Marco sat down with the boys, watching Alex pass by to sit with the girls. Their discomfort was causing a rift in the group, polarising the sexes.
He’d hoped this weekend would be a good chance for him to cut loose. He needed to relax and let things go, but this discomfort around her was making that hard. She made him self-conscious, like she was judging everything he did and was annoyed at his presence.
Brighton was dark when they arrived, but luckily their hotel was near the train station. It wasn't right on the shore, but along the street running to the shore, so they had sea views sideways out of their windows. Marco could hear the swell of the sea as they got closer. There was only darkness out that way, but the water zinged as it hit what was obviously a pebble beach. It had been too long since he'd been to the beach. Closing his eyes, he soaked up the sound and the faint salty smell.
After checking in, they met again at the pub across the road, which looked decent enough. Quite a few of them were eating and Marco ordered steak and chips, which was nice with a bit of added seasoning. The intention for the weekend, at least for the boys, was to do some drinking, maybe a hook-up with someone.
Alex was talking to the girls, drinking mixers. She completely ignored him and that annoyed him. They couldn’t just pretend like they didn’t know each other, but Alex seemed resolute in pretending he wasn’t there. Real mature, he thought. As much as he tried to ignore it, he felt angry—angry a
t how things had turned out; angry that she’d never tried to fix it. But tonight was not for dwelling in the past, it was about having a good time.
After dinner, they went to a bar busy with the Friday night crowd. Brighton wasn't the melting pot London was and the majority of patrons at this bar were English. It was a nice place and the music wasn't ridiculously loud—that would come later in the evening, when even the guys were too drunk to resist the call of the dance floor. For a guy, there was something liberating about being that drunk, where you lost your social inhibitions and just did what you wanted, like dancing without a care, or tell your mates how much you appreciated them and that you'd be fucking lost without them. Marco actually looked forward to that part of the evenings, where he could cast off all constraints and live fully in the moment. Ordering another drink, he knowingly moved the process along.
The club they found was humid and hot, the smell of sweat intermixed with perfume, confronting Marco's senses as they walked in. He was drunk now, happily so, feeling like the night was full of possibilities. He saw Alex, chatting to Jenny on one of the benches, looking more relaxed that he’d seen her all day. Her lower arms were folded across her knees as she lent forwards, her hair flowing down. He remembered what her hair felt like flowing through his fingers and he had an urge to touch—but he wasn’t allowed. She had been all his, but he wasn’t allowed to touch her anymore.
He felt the heavy beat of the music start to resonate through his body. Closing his eyes, he just absorbed the atmosphere, felt good. Alcohol sedated him, wiped away inhibitions and concerns, and just let him live, enjoy the company of his friends. Opening his eyes, he watched the people on the dance floor, letting go of everything and embracing being young and drunk. A girl was giving him the eye and it drew him down to the dance floor. She was a cute little thing, but someone else consistently drew his attention like a magnet. Alex was on the dance floor, giving herself over to the music. Her body twisting and undulating; he couldn’t do anything but watch. She had stripped down to her tank top and jeans. He could see the muscles of her shoulder stretching and tightening as she moved. Clenching his fist, he wanted to run his hands across her shoulders, feel her soft skin, the heat coming off her. She loved to dance, revelled in it as she twisted her body and moved with the beat. Watching her dance was still one of the sexiest things he knew.
Moving closer, she noticed him. She was wary, but she wasn’t telling him to piss off either. Her eyes had that glassy look she got when she was drunk. Her lips were parted slightly, looking berry-stained in the flashing lights. Her eyes large, watching him as he stepped even closer. He wasn't going to stop. He moved flush against her, and she was looking up at him, her eyes wide as she stood her ground as he leant down and claimed her lips. Pleasure flooded his brain as the taste of her seeped into him and her soft lips yielded. He had her. She was following him down this journey and she let him into the sweetness of her mouth. His whole body responded, strengthening and tightening, chasing away every other thought in his head, other than the all-encompassing pleasure of wanting her. But then she pulled away, wretched herself out of the kiss, giving him a recriminating look like he'd betrayed her. “No!” she said.
His lips ached with the absent touch and stung with the rejection. Biting his lips he absorbed the last of her taste on his lips and cursed her for being so cruel. His whole body pulsed with adrenalin. He wanted her so desperately, but she shook her head, moving away. He itched to grab her and keep her there, bring her back to a second ago when they'd been enveloped in complete sweetness.
Turning, she wrapped her arms around her and marched off the dance floor, back to Sarah. He watched her all the way, feeling her rejection seep into every part of his body, turning the high from a moment ago into something cold and cloying. Anger ripped into him again. What right did she have to reject him? Unsure what to do now, he ran his hand through his hair, trying to decide what this meant. The rejection stung and suddenly all these happy people dancing around him, throwing themselves into abandonment seemed to mock him, because happiness was not going to be his. He was denied, and he couldn't understand it. They were awesome together. How could she not want that—want what they'd had? He hadn't done anything unforgivable and she was leaving them both out in the cold, and it felt freezing all of a sudden, even as the moving bodies around him generated heat. He felt like he was cut off from everything around him.
* * *
Chapter 24:
* * *
Everyone was still asleep when Alex got up, so she went out in the chilly spring morning. She wanted a proper cup of coffee and wandered back toward the train station where she found a Café Nero. Taking her takeaway cup down to the beach, she sat on the pebbles and stared out at the gentle waves. It was peaceful this time of the morning, except the joggers who were noisily running down the stones near the water.
Alex wondered what kind of people lived here, knowing one guy from his work that commuted from Brighton every day. That would make for a long commute, but then, the weekends would be lovely. Really, she was avoiding thinking about the thing that was screaming through her mind—Marco. He’d come onto her last night. Not just come onto, he’d just started making out with her.
Distress speared through her system. For a minute, it had been piercingly thrilling, and there had been a second where she’d completely succumbed. He couldn’t do that, just grab her and kiss her. He didn’t have the right to do that. They were not a couple and he couldn’t act like they were whenever he felt like it.
She’d left shortly after that, not able to regain the joy she’d felt before he’d clomped in like a rhino and just took what he wanted. And why was he kissing her anyway? He’d been throwing disparaging looks at her all day, then just wham.
Truthfully, she wouldn’t be so angry if she hadn’t reacted to it. Damn it. Just because he was a good kisser didn’t make it compelling, she told herself. And she certainly wasn’t going to be manipulated.
Crossing her legs and warming her hands on the cup, she wondered what she'd been thinking going on a weekend getaway with not just one ex, but two of her exes. Looking back on it, it seemed like a mad thing to do, and she had suffered for it. Last night had ended brutally and suddenly, with her good mood crashed.
She then wondered whether she should actually leave. Maybe recent events meant that she actually had to give up on her group of friends—a group she had been a part of for two years. They were her friends and she had done everything with them. She'd be lost without them—but equally, if it was going to be like it was last night, then what choice did she have? Marco was either throwing her filthy looks or sucking in her face, going between in an instance. The fact that he’d been completely drunk hadn’t gone unnoticed either. She certainly wasn’t his drunk automatic hook-up. Forget it. She cursed herself for coming this weekend. It had been a bad idea from the start.
After a while, she returned to the hotel, feeling hunger start to ache. She would eat, even if there was no one there, but most of them were in the breakfast room of the old fashioned, proprietor-operated hotel, run by an elderly couple.
Everyone was chatting sedately when she got there, and groaning, she noticed that the only available seat was next to Marco. She wanted to childishly stomp her dismay. She was done dealing with exes—why did the fates have to be cruel enough to make that the only available seat.
Marco was silent when she sat down, pointedly ignoring her. Now he was displeased, although she wasn’t sure it was with her or himself. Maybe he was pissed off with himself for shoving his tongue down her throat last night. She didn’t care which it was. Graciously, she accepted the plate placed down in front of her. An old-fashioned English breakfast—bacon, toast, sausages, beans and eggs. It was actually what she needed right now—a bit of comfort food. It was going to be a trying day.
"You been out?" Marco asked.
"Yeah, I went down to the beach.”
He didn’t say anything else and Alex finished he
r breakfast in awkward silence.
The day was kind of grey, but they all went down to the beach and wandered around the pier. The place was littered with children, many looking like they were on day-trips from London. Alex felt withdrawn and reserved, hanging with the girls, but she wasn't enjoying the weekend. And there was one night to go.
They had fish and chips on the beach, but she was still full from the breakfast. After that, the girls decided to wander around the shops of the parade, and Alex was grateful to be away from the boys, feeling like she could relax.
“What’s up with you?” Jenny asked. “You’ve been flat as a wall all day.”
“I’m just in a funny mood.” Apparently, no one had seen the little incident last night.
“Snap out of it. Should we go do some shots? Might cheer you up.”
“Maybe later,” Alex said, trying to hide her dismay. The last thing she needed now was to be drunk.
They went to an Italian restaurant that evening, a place that had apparently been set up during the war by an Italian family escaping persecution at home and had been run by the family ever since. The food was great and the atmosphere relaxed. Alex sat as far from Marco as possible, but Gavin chose to sit with them, which she wasn’t thrilled about.
“So where’s Lyssa?” Sarah asked Gavin.
He shrugged. “We’re not seeing each other anymore.” He was giving Alex meaningful looks and she shook her head with her unbelievable luck at being stuck with two exes eyeing her up in delusion—Gavin while sober, Marco while drunk.
When it was time to leave, they poured out of the restaurant trying to decide where to go. The streets were full of people seeking entertainment and they walked towards a club Dion had heard of. Marco was still ignoring her, but they stopped in a small park as someone had to visit a toilet. Alex was cold and she wrapped her arms around her.
The Gamble (D'Arth Series Book 3) Page 15
