by T L Swan
Joshua narrows his eyes. “I fucking know that,” he snaps.
“No, you don’t, you just treated her like one.” Joshua closes his eyes and drops his head. Brock slams his head again. “I know the dirty sluts you’re used to Stanton and, believe me, she is so far out of your league it’s not even funny.”
Joshua narrows his eyes and glares at Brock as his anger escalates. “Back the fuck off Brock!” he yells. He twists his arms to get out of his hold and then pushes Brock who comes back with another push.
Ben steps in. “Stop it, you two, enough already.” Both men stare at each other, breathing heavily, their fists clenched at their sides.
Brock points his finger in Joshua’s face. “The sooner you fuck off back to America the better. I’m warning you. If you go near her again, you’re a dead man.”
“Go fuck yourself!” Joshua sneers. “I’ll do what I want.” Brock storms out of the kitchen. All three men stay silent, and Josh kicks the bin in frustration. Adrian’s eyes are the size of saucers.
“So, I’m guessing he’s the restraining order,” Ben whispers.
Joshua shakes his head, “No, he’s just a parking cop.”
“If he’s a parking cop who in the hell is the restraining order?”
Joshua turns to face his friends.
“My mother.”
Chapter 4
There is only one thing worse than waking with a hangover. Hazy images of yourself from the night before. I look around the room to try and get my bearings. That’s right, I’m in my hotel room alone. I trudge to the bathroom and stare in the mirror at the ugly raccoon looking back at me. The ugly raccoon who does a great impersonation of a dog on heat, on dance floors at weddings. I cringe as the memory of last night comes forth to my foggy brain. I pinch the bridge of my nose. Shit. What came over me? I put my head in my hands. Why in the hell did I drink last night? He must think I’m a total scrubber. I couldn’t have appeared any easier if I tried. I feel like shit this morning. Hopefully he was drunk. Then he won’t remember me making a total fool of myself. One minute we were dancing, the next thing kissing. I tap my forehead as I remember and smile. What am I smiling about? A knock bangs on the door, unfortunately I know exactly who it is. I frown again as my brain hits my skull. Knock, knock, knock.
“Alright I’m coming, I’m coming.” I open the door to a cranky–looking Bridget. She smiles a plastered–on smile.
“What happened to you last night?” I turn, walk over to the jug and flick it on. Coffee will help me with this conversation. I’m not in the mood for this shit. I stand with my back to her trying to look busy. If I look her in the eye she will know without a doubt I’m lying.
“I must have eaten something and I couldn’t stop vomiting. I didn’t want to interrupt your night so I just got a cab.” She stays silent as she listens to my explanation.
“Do you want coffee?” I ask, hoping she bought the burb of lies I have just sent her way. “It was a nice wedding wasn’t it? The bride looked gorgeous didn’t she?” I’m babbling and talking way too fast. “What time did you get home?” I ask as I turn to face her armed with my caffeine.
“I went out with the Stanton boys. We went clubbing.”
I nod, staying silent.
“Do you have something to tell me?” she asks with a raised brow.
“No, why do you say that?”
“I don’t know if you noticed, but I was at the wedding yesterday.” She rips her hair down from its bun with such force it’s a wonder she doesn’t scalp herself.
“Yes, I know,” I mutter.
“And I was on the dance floor last night.” Dread fills my stomach. “I’m waiting,” she continues to scowl at me.
“Why do you think I have something to tell you?”
“Because the Stanton boys all know what’s going on.”
“What?” I snap. “How do you know?”
“When I was with them last night, I came back from the bar and they were talking about you and Joshua.” Holy crap, my eyes are the size of saucers.
“What did they say?” My heart rate doubles as I hold my breath.
She holds up her hand. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Was Joshua with you?” I ask, secretly hoping she has some info for me, something I can cling onto, anything?
“No, he left after the dirty dancing affair as well.” I put my face into my hands. “Cameron said I should ask you about it. He seemed shocked that I didn’t know.”
“Know what?” I whisper, my eyes wide.
“You tell me!” she yells.
“Oh god, this is terrible,” I wail.
“Tell me,” she urges. Again, another knock, thank heavens for Mum’s impeccable timing.
“Come in,” I yell a little too fast. Bridget scowls at me. I smile as I open the door.
“Hi honey, are you feeling better? I wish you came and got me last night. You didn’t need to catch a cab on your own. Why didn’t you just find me instead of texting me?”
“Yes, why is that Natasha? It’s very unlike you.” Bridget scowls at me as she folds her arms in front of her.
“Come on, we have breakfast at the Stantons’.” I am so not going there. How do I get out of this?
“I still don’t feel well. I can’t come Mum, sorry. I don’t want to risk throwing up in public or on Margaret for that matter.” The thought tickles my fancy and I stifle a smile.
Bridget narrows her eyes at me. “I bet,” she snaps. Mum gives me a reassuring smile that only a mother can give.
“No worries. It’s a shame though. We never catch up with them, never mind, next time.” She rubs my arm and heads over to the lift entrance calling from the hall for Bridget to hurry up.
“When we get home we are meeting Abbie at Oscar’s and I want the fucking truth,” she pokes me hard in the chest.
“Ow, ok,” I whisper, trying desperately to get rid of her. I do wide eyes to her to signify my distaste for this conversation. I dread the impending conversation—my stomach dry–retches just thinking about it. I’m not stretching the truth too far actually; vomiting could be in the very soon foreseeable future. This is a total nightmare. I want desperately to go to breakfast to see him. I need to see him. It’s a need, not a want. I want to see his face after last night but I can’t risk seeing Scott, his brother. I am so embarrassed. I wish I had a vision of what last night looked like. Did I look like the instigator? Was I the instigator? Did he reciprocate my desire? Or did I imagine it? For the next three hours I act like the total loser I am. I download Rihanna’s ‘Diamonds’ track and listen to it on repeat while lying on my bed staring at the ceiling, only leaving the bed to dry–retch into the toilet every now and then. I reminisce dancing with him last night, the feel of his unrestrained strength under my hands and the divine smell of him. Hmm, the way he bit my neck. I get goose bumps just thinking about it. His want for me, his pure maleness…is that even a word? I can’t help but smile—my god he sure does shine bright, like a diamond that is. He’s still got it and, worse than that, I still want it. Joshua Stanton is too beautiful for words.
6.00 pm, Oscar’s
Bridget hasn’t talked to me all day other than to tell me Joshua didn’t show for breakfast with his family. We are waiting for Abbie to arrive, sipping our coffee in silence. I don’t know why she’s pissed off as I’m the one everyone is talking about. I just wish I knew what they were saying.
Abbie finally turns up in a rush and is obvious flustered. “Hi, what in the hell is the crisis meeting about?” She unloads all the crap from her bag, looking for her wallet. “Is it TC? Have you heard anything?” Her eyes search mine. “Has she made a move on him?”
“No, nothing like that,” I answer. “How would we know anyway?”
“What’s so bloody urgent then? I am going on a date tonight.”
“Who with?” we both say in tandem.
“Tristan, army guy.”
We all smile. I think she likes him.
&
nbsp; Bridget sits back. “Natasha has something to tell us.” She folds her arms in front of her. God, she plays the bitch well.
“You do?” Abbie smiles, her face questioning and eyebrows raised.
“Um,” I don’t look either of them in the eye.
Bridget points her spoon at me. “Enough of this shit. Out with it.”
Abbie looks between both of us. “What the hell is going on?” Obviously she is shocked at bitch Bridget’s venom. My moment of truth has arrived and I am about to be judged by the two people who mean the most to me. They are important. Their opinion matters, it really matters. I blow out a long and steadying breath as I try to calm my nerves.
“I…I…had a steamy month–long sexual affair with Joshua when I was seventeen.” I say it in a rush to get the words out.
“What the fuck!” Abbie spits out. I stay silent as I see the colour drip from their faces, my eyes flicking between them. “Hang on, back up.” Abbie is confused and holds up her hand in a stop signal. “Your cousin?” she asks, mortified.
“Yes,” I nod.
“The gorgeous one?”
I nod again.
“What. You slept with him?” I nod. “Your cousin,” she repeats as she frowns. “More than once?” I nod. “How many times?” Abbie is in total shock. I shrug my shoulders. “How many times?” she repeats.
“Four or five times,” I answer.
She puts her hand on her chest. “Oh thank god.”
“Every day for a month,” I finish my sentence.
“Fuck off,” Bridget snaps. We both look at her. She has been blissfully silent up until this point. “You slept with Joshua four or five times a day for a month? When was this?”
“On holiday before he went away.”
“Where was I?”
“You were in England with Jenna.” She nods as she processes the information. I can almost see her brain ticking.
“And last night was the first time you’ve seen each other since.” Once again I nod. “How do we not know this?” Bridget asks, the hurt in her voice cutting me. I’m a bad friend who keeps secrets.
“Bridget, I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell anyone because I’m ashamed.” Abbie has her hands in front of her mouth like she’s praying.
“Hang on,” Bridge whispers. “How old were you?”
“Seventeen,” I answer, knowing for certain what the next question is going to be.
“Don’t tell me,” Abbie whispers, eyes wide.
I nod, “Yes, I lost my virginity to him.”
“Fuck off,” Bridget snaps again.
“Were you his first?” Bridget’s hands are running through her hair.
“No, he had slept with lots of girls before me.”
“Shit. This is fucked up Tash,” Bridget whispers.
“I know,” I give a weak smile and nod. “I think…” I stay silent.”I think…”
“What?” Bridget snaps as she sips her coffee. Her patience is running thin. ”I think I’m in love with him.”
“Fuck off,” Bridget snaps as she chokes on her coffee.
“Will you stop saying that?”
“Well then, stop shocking me.”
“Why do you think that?” Abbie looks like she is going to vomit, her face screwed up. She’s holding her stomach.
“Because… because,” they are both leaning in towards me, on the edge of their seats. Bridget is biting her thumbnail. “I think I’m in love with him because I haven’t…I haven’t…”
“You haven’t what?” Abbie snaps.
“I haven’t slept with anyone since.” They both stare at me like I have just grown two heads and their eyes bulge from their sockets. I sit back and, god what a relief, that was cathartic.
“You haven’t had sex in seven years?” I nod and give a sheepish smile. I wish I had a camera. They are speechless, and the look of total horror on their faces makes me giggle.
“How is that possible? You’ve had heaps of boyfriends. You’ve even had two marriage proposals.”
I shrug. “I told them I was waiting for marriage. Obviously I kept them sexually satisfied in other ways but you know what? The only reason they proposed to me was they thought I would be good marriage material since I wasn’t easy.”
“They believed you?” They are both mortified. Abbie looks up at me and starts to giggle.
“What’s funny?” Bridget smiles.
“Her,” she points to me, “she is.” Bridget looks at me and starts to giggle as well.
“What’s funny?” I laugh.
“You’re a fucking psychologist who treats messed–up people all day and you’re more fucked up than the rest of us. You’re the world’s biggest prick teaser.” I laugh and nod.
“Yes, I suppose.”
“Oh my god!” Bridget holds her hands up to her face. “Tash, this is like frigging Bold and the Beautiful. You do know that, right?” I nod.
“So what, you’ve been in contact with him all along?”
“No, not a word. Remember Josh nearly didn’t go to America because he met a girl in Sydney?” Bridget nods.
“That was me.” She gasps, eyes wide, and puts her hands up to her mouth.
“No way.” I nod again.
“If you haven’t been in contact, what’s with the celibacy?” I shrug as I chew over her question.
“It hasn’t been on purpose. Every time I’m with a man I think I’m going to go through with it but when it comes close, I can’t do it. I feel like I’m cheating on him and, to be fair, the guys don’t really get me hot for it.”
“Shit,” Abbie whispers. “This is a fucking crisis meeting if I ever saw one.”
I smile. “I know.”
“Ok, let’s rehash,” Abbie takes charge of the crisis meeting with her spoon pointing. “So you were in love with Joshua.”
I nod, “Correct.”
“And last night was the first time you have seen each other since.”
I nod again, “Correct.”
“And what happened?” she looks to Bridget who is still biting her thumbnail as she hunches her shoulders.
“I think he still is attracted to her. No actually, I know he is still attracted to her. He was watching her like a serial killer stalking his next victim.” I can’t help the broad smile from appearing on my face.
Abbie looks back to me. “And this is good is it?” I hunch my shoulders and nod. “So are you still attracted to him?”
I nod again. “Yes, seriously.”
“What happened at the wedding?” She looks between Bridget and me.
“We danced.”
“Dirty danced,” Bridget adds.
“And then we kissed.”
“Kissed,” Abbie repeats. “In front of your family?”
“Yes, it wasn’t planned, I was just so turned on. He makes me so crazy I forgot where I was.” She pinches her lips while assessing the situation, deep in thought.
“So it’s physical then?”
I nod, “I think so. I lose all coherent thought when he is anywhere near me. He just has this way. I don’t know, I can’t explain it. His body talks to mine.”
“What so, he’s like, dominant?”
I nod. “Totally and he’s seriously fucking hot, so it’s a lethal combo. The way he touches me, it’s like he will die if he doesn’t have me. He consumes me, I feel like I can’t breathe. Like I was meant to please him, to hold him.”
Her eyes widen. “Hmm,” she’s thinking, “has he called you today?” I pull my phone out of my bag and check it for the hundredth time today.
“No,” I answer flatly while looking at the screen.
“Does he have your number?”
“I don’t know,” I answer.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I have to get some closure. I know that for sure I can’t move on until I can get him out of my head.”
“Is that what you want? To move on.”
“Yes. We can’t have a future tog
ether. I know that. We both know that, but there was something still there. I felt it and I know he did too. He forgot where he was as well, but I need to finish this for once and for all. I’m sick of this longing from a distance shit.” We sit in silence.
“This is heavy shit Natasha,” Bridget whispers.
“I know, I need to sort my shit out and I will. I feel like maybe it’s coming to a head now he is back, and I will be able to finish it up.”
“Good,” Bridget smiles. “Can you imagine the shit that would go down if the family found out?” I roll my eyes, “Don’t even go there.”
Sunday morning I was positive I was going to hear from him. Sunday night I was pacing, staring at my phone, willing the bastard to ring. Monday morning I had decided to ring him, Monday afternoon decided against it. I already looked desperate. Looked desperate, god I was desperate. Monday night at the gym I ran 12 km, a feat I hadn’t done before. Ok, I train better when stressed, a no brainer here. Then I went home and ate a whole block of chocolate. Tuesday morning I had all but given up—he probably hadn’t even thought about it again. I’m overreacting as usual where he is concerned. He really is pissing me off though. Ring, damn you. At lunchtime my work friend Simon walks into our staff room.
“Do you want to go grab some sushi?”
“Sure, why not?” I grab my bag. I love Simon. He’s tall with blond curly hair, sort of surfielooking, not my type though. He’s hard to explain, but you know those guys that are just too nice. Anyway he’s a great friend and he always says the right things. There has got to be some perks to hanging out with psychologists. We drive and then walk to our favourite Sushi Train in the city, a place we usually frequent about once a week when we have a long lunch. We plan them on the same days for this purpose especially. Simon is telling me in great detail about the date he had on the weekend. He thinks the girl is a stage one clinger, apparently she was talking babies. I smile, although my thoughts are anywhere but on Simon’s date and proposed children. He opens the door to the restaurant in an exaggerated bow and holds his arm out to me and I link mine with his.
“Our sushi awaits my lady,” he says and gives me a wink. He always calls me my lady in reference to the historical romance novels I love. I smile at our ease with each other—he is so uncomplicated. Why can’t I love a guy like Simon? Why do I have to have Bastard player lover syndrome? We watch the train come around the table, while the group in front of us pay their account. They finish with the cashier and turn and I bump head first straight into Joshua. Ben and Adrian are behind him. Oh shit, I step back in shock. What are they doing here? My arm is still linked with Simon’s and I just stare at Joshua dumbfounded. I did not expect this. Adrian comes forward and gives me a kiss on the cheek.