‘Truthfully, Ella? Because women judge. Forgive me for saying it, but your gender tends to put us into compartments. I don’t want to be judged or viewed as superficial or only good for a screw. I have feelings, and like everyone, I want to settle down at some point, too.’
Untruths numbers thirteen to... ? I think I’ve lost count.
‘What’s going on with you and Mac?’
‘What do you mean?’ Looking down at my glass, I make a triangle with my fingers around the base of my glass.
‘I sort of feel like he’s here with us. A looming figure at the table. The elephant in the room. I don’t mind telling you, it’s putting me off my stride.’
I’m being unfair. I shouldn’t be here. Though, in my defence, I find myself saying, ‘I did say we’d have a drink tonight just as friends.’
‘Friends,’ he repeats, leaning back in his chair and sighing. ‘Is that what you are with Mac?’
‘I don’t think that’s any of your business,’ I answer quietly.
‘And what about him?’ He leans forward quickly, picking up the wine bottle and topping up my glass. ‘You ask about intentions; well, let me tell you, he’s no slouch himself. I reckon he could match me girl for girl. The difference is, he’s not looking for love. It’s almost like... ’ He places the bottle back in the bucket. ‘It’s almost like, he picks up girls as a distraction. Like there’s something he’s avoiding. And you know,’ he adds with a half-smile, ‘I wouldn’t have thought you were his type.’
His words pierce my chest. Could it be he knows about Fin? Or is it more a case that in his seduction, he’ll throw his friend under the bus? Maybe this is the way it works for men like him. A darkened bar, a saucy smile, a few glasses of wine, and a solid line in self-depreciation.I’m not like other men, darlin’.Then the next thing you know, your knickers are lying on his bedroom floor, and he’s moved on to other prospects.
Still, with all the practise he’s had, I’d bet he’d be really good at it. You know—it. Not that it matters. He and I aren’t ever going to happen. I pick up my glass and take a small sip. ‘So what chapter are we at in this playbook of yours?’
I take an Uber home, much to Will’s consternation. I don’t think he’s upset because we’re not going via his place or a nearby hotel, but that he genuinely feels like it’s his job to deliver me back. Despite his very obvious flaws, I can’t help but like him. But I can be pretty insistent when I need to be.Like when I’d changed my mind about sleeping with Henri.So we part at the door to the wine bar with a kiss on the cheek and a promise that I’ll text when I get back.
Back. Home. The place I’ll live for the next few months. If Mac is agreeable, that is.And if he says no?whispers my doubt. Then I just don’t know.
I slot my key in the lock, push the door open, and steal along the hall like a thief. The lights are off but for some soft strip lighting under the kitchen cabinetry, the warm glow barely extending into the living room.
I place my hands on the back of the sofa and raise my foot behind me to slip off my shoe.
‘Leave them on.’ I jump at the sound of Mac’s voice—the soft cadence in contrast to his demand.
‘You frightened the life out of me,’ I say, lowering my foot. ‘Why are you sitting in the dark?’
‘I believe it’s called stewing.’
‘I didn’t ask you to stew.’
‘No, you asked something impossible from me.’
My heart sinks. He doesn’t want to sleep with me—be my first. He doesn’t want to be with me at all.
‘You see, because I can’t give you up, Ella. I can’t be with you when you’ve put a time limit on things.’
‘Because I’m going to university.’And because you’re in love with someone else. ‘I thought I’d explained it to you. I can’t stay here.’ My words are plaintive, and his rejection stings.
‘So people at university don’t have commitments and relationships?’ he growls, leaping from where he’s seated in the darkened corner of the room. ‘Or is it that you want me to break you in—fuck you—so you can sow your wild oats while you’re studying?’
I laugh because the idea is ridiculous. ‘Yes, that’s exactly it, Mac. I’m a twenty-three-year-old virgin with aspirations to be a slut.’
‘Then maybe you’d better get Will to fuck you.’ He stands in front of me now, my bum pressed against the sofa back as he looms over me. ‘That’s more his speed. The fuck and fuck off.’
‘At least, he’s honest,’ I bite back.
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’
‘He’s not living a lie, in love with someone he can’t have.’ It’s cruel, I know, and not really my style, but the words spew forth because I’m angry. In fact, I’m fucking furious.
‘I am not in love with Fin.’ His voice is so rough, as if the effort not to yell his denials hurts him. His chocolate-coloured eyes practically smoulder as his hands rise and begin to loosen the pins in my hair
