by L.H. Cosway
“You’re m-making this up,” I stammered.
“Believe that if you want.”
Our eyes met and time felt suspended for a moment. Someone tapped me on the shoulder, breaking the connection.
Leanne. Phew.
“You want to dance?” she shouted over the music, Isaac behind her.
It was the perfect excuse to get away from Trev’s heated attention, plus I did love to dance, so I happily agreed. Isaac stayed behind, so it was just the two of us on the dance floor. Callum and Paul were at the other end of the club, still surrounded by revellers.
“You looked like you needed rescuing,” Leanne yelled in my ear as we danced.
I shot her a grateful smile. “I did. Thanks for that.”
“Any time.”
We danced out the rest of the song before I asked, “So, you and Callum seem to be getting along better?”
She made a non-committal gesture. “We realised we needed to let it go. Neither one of us can be what the other wants, but we’ve been through a lot together. I’d rather be friends than nothing at all.”
I pondered her words and wondered, if I’d come to the same conclusion about Trev two years ago, would it have worked out? Could we have forgotten the whole lovers thing and just gone back to being friends?
Probably not. There had been too many years of build up.
Anyway, I had to live in the present instead of wallowing in what ifs. He was back in my life now, acting like he wanted to start something up again. The only difference was he wasn’t disappearing on me this time, flickering on and off like a cheap candle. Now he was with me every day, always on hand if I needed him. Was this his way of showing me how it could be between us if I gave him another shot?
It just felt like a massive step backwards. Sure, I’d never really gotten over him, but would I recover if I let myself fall for him again and he let me down? After we spent our three weeks together, what then?
A group of guys slowly sidled up to us. One of them started dancing with Leanne while another moved closer to me. I wasn’t interested in dancing with him, which was fucked up in itself because he was attractive and probably had a sexy French accent to boot. I was far too pre-occupied with the blue-eyed Londoner sitting in the VIP section to even notice anyone else. I knew he was watching me, even though I couldn’t see him. I could just feel it.
Speaking of being watched. I’d almost forgotten that the film crew were scattered around the club, capturing footage, though I suspected they were focused on Paul and Callum’s antics more than anything else.
I startled when two arms came around my waist. Thinking it was one of the men who’d started dancing with us, I twisted around to tell him I wasn’t interested only to find Trev staring down at me. His eyes shone in the dark club, the flashing lights turning them into a spectrum of every colour.
I opened my mouth to say something when his arms tightened around my waist and pulled me closer. My chest pressed into his when he bent low to murmur, “Just dance with me for a minute.”
There was something about his tone that made me give in without a single protest. The crowded club and the music and his closeness all combined to overload my senses. My throat ran dry when his thumb moved back and forth over the base of my spine. We moved to the beat, not once breaking eye contact. Like many times before, I was caught up in his web.
I was the suicidal fly that wanted to be eaten.
My nipples hardened. I could feel them brushing sensitively against the fabric of my bra. I just hoped the padding prevented Trev from feeling them, too. The song changed to something with a heavier bass line. Sound waves hit me right in the pit of my stomach.
His hands started to move, exploring the curves of my hips before coming to rest on my backside. He gave a soft squeeze and my arousal shot sky high. This wasn’t dancing. This was claiming.
He lowered his mouth to my neck and whispered in my ear, “I miss how you come.”
Those words made me tremble. So confidently seductive. Trev had always been in control in the bedroom. He liked to give orders, and there was a rebellious side to me that liked to protest. I think he enjoyed that even more than if I just did as he asked.
His mouth found my earlobe, his tongue dipping out in a feather-light lick. I practically turned to liquid in his arms, closing my eyes.
“You should stop doing that if you don’t want everyone to see me come on this dance floor,” I shot back, feeling a little unstable.
“Wouldn’t want that.” I could feel his smirk.
I couldn’t help the smile that curled my lips in return. He just had this way of pulling it out of me. Trying to be brave, I asked, “What else do you miss?”
He nuzzled my neck and started to hum. “Hmm, let me see. I miss your laugh. I miss how you used to give me shit for being an arsehole. I miss when you used to stay over in my room and all we did was sleep. I miss hanging out with you in your tiny flat. I miss hearing you sing for me.”
His words were like a declaration. They overwhelmed me, bringing on a memory. I was staying the night at his house, because we were watching movies and it had gotten too late for me to go home. We’d lain on his narrow bed, fully clothed because back then we were still just friends. Trev surprised me by asking me to sing him a lullaby. I initially thought he was joking, but then I saw the serious look on his face, so I sang to him. It was one of the most intimate moments we’d ever shared. There’d just always been this feeling of closeness between us. I could get off on as little as a shared look or a touch of his hand. I fell headfirst into the past.
His hand brushed up and down my spine as I sang the chorus to “Galileo” by Declan O’Rourke. It was overly sweet and romantic and I felt weird and self-conscious by the time I finished. Maybe it had been the wrong choice, but then Trev looked at me with such a fierce intensity I thought he might kiss me.
Instead he asked, “Why don’t you ever talk about your family, Reya?”
My heart sank. He’d never asked me this question before. “Because nobody likes sad stories.”
“I don’t care if it’s sad. I just want to know.”
“Karla’s the only one I’ve ever told.”
“Now I’m insulted. She’s only your second-best friend. Everybody knows I’m your first,” he quietly teased.
I gave him a small smile and wondered if he was right. He was my best friend. Maybe he did deserve to know the truth, where I came from, what I’d been through. I was speaking before I even realised words were coming out of my mouth.
“I was raised very firmly within the Catholic church,” I began. Trev didn’t let up stroking my back and it helped to soothe my tension. We lay side by side on the bed, facing each another. “My dad owns a restaurant where I grew up in Enfield, so my parents have always been involved in the community, especially the church. I was actually taught to play piano by a nun, believe it or not. Anyway, my childhood was very regimented. I was the youngest of four children and my parents ran a tight ship. I always had to conduct myself in a respectable manner. Like, if I wore a neckline that was too low or a top that was too tight, my father would literally ground me for a week. Not exactly easy when you’ve got a body like mine. My boobs make everything look too tight.”
Trev gave me a tender smile and I paused to swallow, because talking about it always upset me. Trev didn’t say anything, but I could see I had his full attention.
“There was a businessman in my parish, my father’s acquaintance, who came to our house for dinner one evening. I’d always gotten a sketchy vibe off him, but when he came to dinner I was seriously on edge. There was just something creepy about how he looked at me. I was eighteen and had just started university to study music. My mother was bragging proudly about the program I’d gotten into and how competitive it was, how I’d be playing solos with the London Symphony Orchestra one day. He was impressed and offered for me to play at an upcoming company event he was hosting at my father’s restaurant. I was wary of the offer
, but my parents were over the moon.
“A couple of weeks later the night of the event came. The restaurant was full of people and I sat by the piano playing instrumental pieces, pre-approved by Mum and Dad. By midnight everybody was tipsy. I finished up and went out back to use the bathroom when I bumped into him.”
“Reya,” Trev breathed. I could tell my story was agitating him by the way his pulse ticked in his throat.
“It’s hard to t-talk about the next bit,” I whispered.
Trev’s jaw tensed. “Did he hurt you?”
I nodded. Trev swore profusely, saying how he was going to find this guy and kill him, break every bone in his body. I knew he didn’t mean it. He was just angry. Angry like my parents should have been.
“I was in shock for about a week after. Mum thought I had the flu and that’s why I wouldn’t leave my bed. In the end, she realised I wasn’t sick so she dragged me out of my room. I was so upset that I told her everything, and then she . . . she looked me right in the eye and told me I was lying. She said I was trying to bring shame on the family. I shouted at her and ran to my father, thinking he might be more sympathetic, but I only got the same response. I still can’t tell whether they truly thought I was lying or if they were just so frightened of a scandal and the attention it would bring that they’d rather choose not to believe me.”
“Pair of bloody wankers,” Trev grunted, his expression furious. “I actually want to hurt them.”
I let out a sad sigh. “You shouldn’t. I just feel sorry for them. They’d rather shun their youngest daughter than face the fact that she’d been raped by a man they welcomed into their home.”
Trev pulled me into his arms and hugged me tight, like he couldn’t stand to hear it put into words so bluntly.
“I went to my brothers and my sister after that, hoping they might believe me. My sister Paula did, and my brother Samuel, too. But my oldest brother, Lucas, he was too much like my father. He didn’t want to believe. He went to my parents and told them how I was trying to stir up trouble. They tried grounding me but I’d already packed my bags. I couldn’t live in a house with people who refused to believe the truth, so I went to stay with my next-door neighbour, Mrs Finnegan.” I smiled sadly, remembering how fierce that old bird had been. “I used to call her my English granny because she always looked out for me. She was the only person I ever saw tell my parents exactly what she thought of them. They basically told me not to bother coming home. They weren’t going to pay for my uni fees anymore, and as far as they were concerned I was no longer their daughter. It hurt like I’d been stabbed in the gut. They’d never been particularly loving parents, but I still couldn’t believe they’d cut me out of their lives so callously. All to avoid judgement from the community.”
When I finished speaking, we were both quiet for a long time. Trev held me so tight it was on the verge of being painful.
“I want to ask you something but I’m afraid to hear the answer,” he said finally, his body tense.
“Just ask,” I whispered, my face pressed into his warm shoulder.
“What happened to the fucker who did it?”
I exhaled heavily. “He didn’t get away with it, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Then what?” he grunted, like he wished he’d been the one to dole out justice.
“After I told Karla, she was just as angry as you. Without my knowledge, she looked into his background and found a bunch of charges for sexual assault, but all of them had been dropped. She suspected he’d paid the girls to drop them, or maybe their parents. When she came to me with the information, I was so upset to hear there had been others. Then I got angry. Karla wanted my permission to contact these women and see if they’d be willing to give new statements. If it turned out that they’d been coerced into changing their original statements through bribery or other means, they could be struck off the record.” I paused to take a breath. “So, that’s what we did.”
“And he got sent away?”
I nodded. “It took over a year, but he finally got what he deserved. Fifteen years. The bribery charges on top of the sexual assault and rape upped the sentencing. But the public nature of the trial made my parents even more resentful. That was the final nail in the coffin for them.”
“Jesus Christ, they don’t fucking deserve you back in their lives, Reya. They never deserved you. I can’t,” he paused, raking a through his hair in frustration, “I can’t believe you went through all this and I’m only hearing about it now.”
“Don’t hate me for not telling you. It’s the hardest thing to talk about. And I just want to put it all behind me.”
Trev stared at me for a long moment, thoughts flickering behind his eyes. “I know I can be unreliable and flighty sometimes, but I honestly can’t help it. I want to be there for you and I’m gonna try harder. I want you to know you can trust me. If you ever need someone, I’m here.”
I mustered a smile for him, because he was being incredibly sweet. “I know, and thank you. I guess you deserve that first-best-friend status, after all.”
Seventeen.
The memory drifted away until I was back in the club, back on the crowded dance floor with Trev. Back in his arms, just like I’d been that night when I bared my soul.
I stared up at him. Our mouths were almost level since I was wearing heels. My attention went to his lips, the sculpted, masculine line of them. I wanted to kiss him so badly. My heart felt like it might burst if I didn’t.
He watched me closely, expectant, waiting for me to make the first move. His eyes urged me to jump, dive, soar, do whatever it took to quench this thirst we both felt. I leaned in, closed my eyes, took a breath and then . . .
Raucous cheering sounded over the music and the spell broke. I was plunged headfirst back to reality as I moved away from Trev and looked up to see Callum scaling one of the columns that led to the mezzanine above the dance floor. He made it to the top only to have a pissed-off security guard meet him there. The guard grabbed him by the shirt collar and started yelling at him angrily.
“Shit, come on.” Trev grabbed my hand and pulled me with him through the club. We’d just reached the bottom of the stairs when we came upon Callum being escorted off the premises by the same furious security guard. Jimbo and the others were getting it all on camera, not even bothering to intervene.
“It was a dare,” Callum yelled, gesticulating wildly.
Leanne, Isaac and Paul came rushing out and we tried reasoning with the guard on Callum’s behalf but it was no use. Callum was effectively barred from the club for life.
“We can always try somewhere else,” I suggested.
“Fuck those arseholes. This place is shite anyway. We should go explore the city. Who’s up for visiting the Eiffel Tower?”
“It’s a little late for sightseeing,” said Paul.
“No such thing,” Callum exclaimed. “I bet it’s romantic as fuck at night. Come on.”
And that was how we found ourselves on a tram heading towards the Eiffel Tower in the middle of the night. Trev sat next to me, our almost-kiss hanging heavy in the air. Isaac sat staring out the window at the city as it went by, fascinated. Paul was googling which stop we should get out at, while Callum flirted relentlessly with Leanne in the seat in front of mine and Trev’s.
“Leave me alone, you’re drunk,” she complained when he tugged on her short hair.
“But I like bothering you. It’s my favourite thing to do.”
She snorted. “Yeah, you don’t have to tell me that.”
Trev’s hand rested on his thigh, but it was a tight squeeze on the two-seater so his fingers brushed against my knee. I adjusted my dress to cover more of my legs.
“You love it,” said Callum, plastering on his most charming grin. “You pretend to hate it, but we both know you love it.”
“If you want to believe that, fine.”
“So if I suddenly started ignoring you completely you wouldn’t be bothered?”
“Because normal is boring.”
“Well, I must be very boring then.”
Callum barked a laugh. “Are you saying you’re normal?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I’m a lot more normal than you”
“Oh, dear God! I can’t listen to this anymore. Just fuck and be done with it,” Paul groaned. “Do either of you know how irritating it is to live with you both?”
Leanne bristled while Callum turned in his seat to face Paul. “Don’t be jealous, honey-bunch. You know there’s always room in my bed for you.”
Paul laughed loudly. “Ha! I wouldn’t go gay for you if you were the last man on earth. You can still catch chlamydia in the apocalypse, you know.”
“So, you’ve got an end-of-the-world fantasy about me? Interesting,” Callum shot back but Paul didn’t rise to it. He only gave Callum the finger and returned his attention to his phone.
“It says we should get out at Trocadéro for the best view of the Eiffel Tower. That’s just one more stop from here.”
“Good work,” I said, shooting him a smile and trying to ignore how Trev was studying my profile. “What?” I whispered, self-consciously tucking some hair behind my ear.
“You’re gorgeous,” he breathed.
I cast him a side-glance. “What are you after?”
“Everything. Nothing.”
“You’re in a mood. Stop it.”
“We’re in Paris. If I can’t be in a mood here, then where can I be in one?”
Before I could respond, an announcement came over the speakers for our stop and we all hustled off the tram. I felt a little bad for the film crew, who had to lug their cameras around everywhere. Trev took my hand in his as we walked toward the large, open square. It had a massive water feature running through the middle, and the fountains shot high into the air like a liquid symphony. It took me a second to catch my breath.