‘I don’t care about the dress,’ I replied, barely able to recognize my own frayed, guttural voice. ‘You told me to tell you what I want. Ren, I want you. Now.’
He pushed against me as I leaned into him, the evidence of our mutual need pressing into my lower back, and his hands moved around to the front of my body, sliding up from my waist and curving around my breasts, squeezinggently until I moaned. Across the room I saw a mirror and reflected in it, a man and a woman, both with wild eyes, her hair a loose tangle of gold and his shirt hanging off his body, open in the front with a clean rip in the back, torn all the way from the hem up to the collar.
I watched him take a small gold square out of his pocket before unfastening the button at his waistband. I heard the unzipping of his fly. I saw his trousers slip down his bronzed, muscular legs and land in a heap on the floor before he pushed up her dress to find the edge of the thin silk underwear beneath, all that separated them now.
It’s the fate of glass to break, I thought as he slipped my underwear to the side and pressed against me. When something unthinkable becomes inevitable. We were inevitable now.
‘Is this OK?’ Ren whispered. The hot skin of his chest burned against my cool, exposed back.
‘Yes,’ I replied, my eyes fixed on the couple in the mirror. ‘Please don’t stop.’
‘I won’t,’ he promised.
And he didn’t.
I covered his hand with mine, guiding him exactly where I wanted him, the sound of his groans sending me skittering over the edge and falling so far, so fast, there was no way back. Stars glittered behind my eyes, a delicious, tempting darkness calling out to me as I gave into the hard pressure of his body and the yielding softness of my own, two halves of a whole.
My back arched sharply and we both cried out, Ren wrapping one arm around my waist, the other braced against the wall. I watched us in the mirror, determinedto remember every moment of this forever, studying the desire in his eyes, the surprise on his face and the rhythm of his body until the deep, desperate pleasure that had been building inside me pushed every conscious thought out of my mind, leaving nothing but a mess of emotion and reaction. I felt everything: fragile, delicate, brash and brazen, loud and unashamed. Closing my eyes, I gave in to sensation, satisfied to be lost in it, lost in my body, lost in Ren, and I had no desire to ever be found again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
From the bed, I watched the world shift from black to grey to bright and burning blue. Beside me, Ren slept soundly, long lashes flickering against his cheeks, his breathing soft and slow and even. Everything was perfect.
A red and green hummingbird appeared in the window, its iridescent wings a blur as it hovered in front of me, and I smiled. One more thing I couldn’t quite believe about LA, that these incredible little things were flying around all over the place. No wonder people were so much happier here – the thought of saying hello to a hummingbird every morning was a lot more enticing than dodging the pigeons every time I had to cross Market Square. Tiny, colourful miracle bird or scabby, one-legged rats of the sky? It wasn’t much of a choice.
In less time than it took to blink, the bird was gone, but I didn’t mind. The fact they didn’t stick around very long was what made them so special. Some things were more precious because they were fleeting. Rolling over, I turned away from the window and watched therise and fall of Ren’s chest, lost in the deepest sleep. Some things weren’t meant to last forever.
It had been a long, incredible night and even though I knew it had to come eventually, the dawn still felt like a betrayal, bringing with it the day I had to leave. With the sky full of stars, everything seemed possible, but now at the soft, uncertain break of day, things were different. I had to go home to England, Ren had to return to Maine. I had a job to get back to and his house was about to be sold. Whether I liked it or not, it was time to face up to real life, and real life wasn’t Hollywood parties, designer gowns and unbelievable sex with men who made Zac Efron look like he could stand to hit the gym a bit more regularly. Real life was paying your council tax on time, getting the gutters cleaned before winter and realizing you’d run out of toilet paper right after you sat down for a wee. Real life could never be this blissful.
Even though I’d spent the whole night wide awake, trying to think of a way for us to work, I had nothing. Everyone knew long distance was a fantasy. We’d start off with good intentions, he would call me every day, I would get over my nana-like attitude to phone sex, maybe we’d even visit each other, but eventually it would fall apart, shatter into tears and recriminations, souring what we had, long distance always did. But what choice was there? If only there was a way to tie the night up in a bow and keep it like this forever. But no, as soon as Ren woke up, we’d have to deal with the reality of the morning after.
As soon as Ren woke up …
I spotted the glossy wooden box on the dresser and slipped out from under the sheets, searching aroundthe room for my dress. It didn’t feel right to do this naked. So quietly, I opened the box, took out one of the two pieces of paper torn from my notebook and picked up a worn-down pencil that sat next to the wooden box. We started with a letter, we should end with one too.
Dear Ren,
This time I don’t have the words because I meant all of the others.
You’re everything.
I’ll never forget you.
I couldn’t quite bring myself to sign my name.
Without re-reading even once, I folded the note back up and placed it on my pillow. It almost hurt to look at him, standing close enough to count the freckles on his cheeks and memorize the curve of his cupid’s bow. I studied the turn of the arm flung over his head, framing his perfect face, his hand resting lightly in his thick, dark hair. Then I closed the curtains to shut out the sun, picked up his alarm clock and pulled the plug out the back, waiting for the glowing red numbers to fade to black and reminding myself this was for the best.
Setting the clock back on the table, I took one last look at Ren Garcia before tiptoeing out of the room, down the stairs and out the front door, leaving him behind. Fast asleep and dreaming.
‘Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged around the corner and up the hill.’
Suzanne eyed me over an enormous coffee cup, cradledin her oversized armchair, a bottle of Advil and a plate of dry toast on the coffee table next to her. ‘So you’re not dead after all. Bel, I owe you twenty dollars.’
It was only a couple of minutes after 8 a.m. when I let myself into the house, tired and sore and confused, but Bel and Suzanne were both up already, wide-awake and waiting.
‘Sorry, I meant to message you but my phone died,’ I said, pulling said phone out of my bag and plugging it into the waiting charger at the wall as if to prove it. ‘And, well, I was a bit busy.’
‘I told you!’ Bel crowed from her spot on the sofa, dressed in nothing but a bra and a pair of sweatpants that were at least three sizes too big. ‘Tell us everything, I want every filthy detail. What was he like? How big is it? Where did he put it?’
