‘Didn’t you?’
‘No, I—’
‘You’ve been rude to me every moment since I turned up at your door.’ Probably not the fairest of statements, since I’m not the person she thinks I am—considering I’ve been goading her pretty much the whole time.
‘I wasn’t trying to offend you.’
‘Then say sorry,’ I demand. Pressing my hand over her fingers, I slide them a little lower. My stomach muscles tighten, her fingers searing my skin through my shirt. ‘And say it like you mean it.’
Her chin tipped up, and she looks at me properly for the first time since we’d arrived. Her eyes are dark and her mouth so perfect and lush, coloured like a summer plum. It strikes me that Sadie is the perfect name for her. In a world full of stick-thin Siennas, Sierras, and Skyes comes Sadie. The girl with the old-fashioned name and a vintage kind of authenticity.There’s a reason curves never go out of fashion in the real world.Sadie with the cupid bow’s kiss, fit for the silver screen.
‘I am sorry,’ she whispers, no longer looking at me, but rather watching her fingers as they twitch against my abs. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just... I feelnervous enough already, and now I’m confusedandnervous.’
‘Tell me.’
‘You make me nervous.’
I don’t believe her, not fully. She wets her lips, which I could take for anxiety but for the way her nipples are visible between the folds of silk. She wants me. Maybe she doesn’t want to, but she does. Her body’s reaction to me makes her nervous. To test the theory, I slide her hand a fraction further, and—
What the fuck.
I’m pushed forward by a force behind me, stopping just short of jostling her. A solid hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn my head to be met by a vaguely familiar face.
‘Sorry, mate. Domino effect. I just—Will? Fuck me, it’s been an age!’
‘Julian.’
He grabs my hand, shaking it profusely. ‘How long as it been?’ he asks, smiling widely. ‘What, three, maybe four years?’
Julian is a consummate liar. The last time I saw him was a couple of weekends ago. At very close range, actually. We were both fucking the same girl, but from different ends.
I admit that before that moment, I hadn’t seen him in quite some time.And that had suited me just fine.Julian and I used to move in the same circles a long time ago, in very particular kinds of circles. Ones full of parties with the narcotic kind of favours and multiple willing girls.And then he’s appeared at the place I now keep my extracurricular activities. It’s a particular kind of club.
Hint: It’s not a cricket club.
‘It was at Rosa’s, I think. Shame the business went under,’ he says. ‘The best tortellini I’ve ever tasted. I’m so pleased you got the invite, man.’ And he does look pleased, genuinely so.So believable. So magnanimous. Such an accomplished liar.And a complete arsehole.
As for the invite, who the fuck knows. I’m not a slave to my inbox—my work email is taxing enough. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say he has no idea if he invited me or not, as his eyes slide over Sadie like a snake. I think that’s probably just my take on the situation because he’s very good at the wolf in sheep’s clothing thing.
But as I glance at Sadie, I’m not so sure as my companion appears to have swallowed something unpleasantly painful. My attention flicks between the two. Yep, something is making her uncomfortable. While he looks... completely unaware. My mind attempts to work out how they could’ve met, but I can’t even remember what he does for a living. It’s not the kind of question you ask when you’re each on the opposite end of a girl.
Long time, no see! Pass the lube, would you? How’s business been?
‘Truthfully, I felt a bit of an arse sending the email,’ Julian blethers on. ‘But Emma—you remember Emma?’ His sister. I do remember her, probably in more detail that he’d care to learn. ‘She’s moved into event management and insisted on throwing tonight together. What can you do, eh?’ he says with a good-humoured shrug.
Sadie’s shoulders curve inwards, not that he seems to notice her entire posture crumpling. If I’m reading her right, he’s the reason she’s here tonight. And him? The dumb bastard doesn’t have a clue. Was it a drunk hook-up that he’s already forgotten? Nothing would surprise me with this fucker.
‘Julian, this is Sadie,’ I say, sliding my arm around her waist, silently shoring her up while also pulling her close. Multitasking, you might say.
‘Pleased to meet you, Sadie. Let me tell you, you’ll have your hands full with this one,’ he adds jovially. Because that’s Julian’s M.O. The light-hearted, carefree bloke that everyone likes around. But nice boys finish last—everyone knows that. Including Julian. He uses the guise purely as a ruse or ploy. Because there’s nothing very nice about him, actually. Even his tastes in suiting is horrible.
‘Hello.’ Sadie’s voice wobbles, and for the world, she looks like she might cry. I hope she hasn’t shagged him because that would piss right on my cornflakes. Because I don’t care how lovely she is, she’s not crying on my shoulder tonight. ‘H-happy Birthday,’ she adds valiantly.
‘Thank you, Stella!’ Unless coke has rotted his brain, he really doesn’t know her. Stella, for fuck’s sake? ‘Listen, I better go and mingle. I’m getting the daggers from Ems.’ He throws a thumb over his shoulder in the vague direction of his sister, assuming her glare in our direction is a sign for him. Red blonde hair and fiery, Emma’s and my parting was a little grim. Still, it was a good weekend, except for the bit when I woke in the small hours to find her bowed over my junk, Zippo lighter in hand.
I’d manscaped. Apparently, my pubes weren’t long enough to stay alight.
The gods were kind to me that night.
