by Emily James
“Who’s up for pudding?” Mikey deftly changes the subject.
There’s a tense atmosphere for the rest of the evening. Melinda paints on a smile but I can feel her hurt. I just don’t get a proper chance to apologise. I feel Six staring at me, but when I turn to look he looks away and Donnie makes his excuses and leaves early. At the end of the evening, Melinda asks Six to drive me home, excusing herself with a headache.
I thank Mikey and Chef for their hospitality and Six and I turn to leave. I wave off Six’s offer of assistance to get in the car, and we are quiet the whole way home, even though the air is charged more fiercely than the engine of Six’s car.
Six walks with his hands in his pockets and his eyes pointing down towards the carpet as we walk through the foyer and along the corridor to our respective apartments.
“So you’re really going to meet with the dickhead that broke your heart?” he asks me, looking dejected. Maybe he’s just tired from a long evening.
My eyes moisten as I ask, “What’s it to you, Six? I know you seem to enjoy teasing me, but it really hurt to find out that you laugh with Twenty about me. What have I ever done to you to deserve to be the butt of your jokes? She slept with my boyfriend, Six. You couldn’t have picked anyone worse to laugh at me with.”
There’s a lump the size of Two’s poodle in my throat as I pull out my key, ready to say goodbye to Six.
“I don’t laugh at you, not with her, or with anyone. The only time I laugh lately is when you are right beside me. Joanie, she did the PR for the restaurant and then the casino. She occasionally came to the apartment on business, and yes, she put me to bed when I was too drunk to tell her to go home, but I wouldn’t ever laugh at you, and I never slept with her. I wouldn’t ever want to hurt you in that way. In case you hadn’t realised, even though I’ve been trying to catch your attention, I think you’re pretty amazing.”
Six pushes his soft dark hair out of his eyes. His face looks serious as his eyes rise up from the floor to meet my gaze. Our eyes lock and I’m lost in the depth of his sincerity.
Six steps forward and lightly cups my face. He wipes away a stray tear and brings his mouth crashing down on mine. The skin on skin contact sets fire to my inhibitions and I throw gas on the flames. My hands go up into his hair and I grip and pull him down onto me. My body heats and pulsates, and my right leg shamefully wraps around Six’s thigh. He is reciprocal to my physical suggestion and hoists me up in his arms. My legs wrap around his waist, delighted to have gotten purchase on their goal, and Six leans me back against my door.
I’m consumed by Six’s touch as he supports me by holding my ass. The pressure of his lips on mine sends lightning bolts of pleasure down my whole body. When Six breaks our kiss to nibble and taste the delicate skin of my neck, a throaty groan escapes my mouth.
“Shit, Four, I’ve had a hard-on for you since the first time I saw you...” he says in a raspy tone.
Knowing I need more, with my key still in my hand, I push it towards the lock. The lock must want this as badly as I do, because the mechanism turns with ease and the door swings right open.
Still hitched on Six’s waist we bounce along the hallway and into my bedroom. Six lowers me down onto my bed and his jacket is off and on my floor in seconds. Our hands are everywhere, undressing ourselves, and each other in a tangle of hands and fingers. Six peels my jeans off more slowly, standing back as he tosses them on the floor near my door. He sizes me up, as he stands in just his jeans, with his chest gloriously bare. I lean up on my elbows from the bed in only my black bra and knickers.
“Why don’t you come over here, Six,” I ask, desperate to feel his delicious weight on me.
Six steps towards me, slowly leaning down to kiss me, and then he breaks our kiss to say, “Call me Ryan.”
I’m about to turn that information over in my head but am distracted by the unhooking of my bra and the press of his lips on my breasts. His other hand slides down my stomach and slips my underwear down. I tug at his jeans and he removes them completely until there is only soft cotton boxer briefs between us. His skin feels delicious against mine, and my body rocks against his.
A frenzied need detonates inside of me, but as usual, he is one-step ahead of me, already massaging me, building my pleasure to unbearable heights as my fingers dig into his shoulders and his mouth reclaims mine. My hands wander of their own accord and before long they wrap around their goal. I’m quickly able to confirm that I was right; he is hugely hung. He takes a condom from his silver box at the side of my bed and I watch with a greedy hankering as he removes his underwear and prepares himself. My need is acute, to the point of pain, as he leans over me and kisses me with such abandon my hips instinctively buck to meet his. When he presses inside of me, I’m driven crazy and a feral gasp leaves my lungs as he builds a delicious friction from inside out. My groans echo through the room as his pace quickens, intensifying my need.
Just when I think I can stand no more, I’m rewarded with the most delicious release and as I come, I scream:
“Yes, yes, oh—RYAN!”
Chapter 19
WHEN I WAKE, THE FIRST thing that I notice is a delicious ache in my flesh and a mischievous, knowing grin that just won’t quit as my mind wanders back to the four, yes four, incredible episodes of getting to know Ryan and Joanie.
I stretch out my legs and arms, wiggling my toes and my fingers back to life. Everything feels disconnected and spongy, like I’m floating on a cloud, unable to anchor myself back to earth. It’s a wonderful feeling.
From beside me, Ryan snuffles quietly in his sleep as he lies on his back with a peaceful smile on his face, and I relax in the crook of his arm.
I don’t want this moment to ever end, and I’m afraid of what may happen when he wakes. Will we continue where we left off, or will Ryan go back to spending time with Twenty? I’m not sure, but I know I can’t bear to find out if it’s the latter.
Too soon, we’re interrupted from our bedded bliss when the intercom sounds three swift blasts from the hallway. Ryan, still exhausted, sleeps right through it, so I slip on his shirt and walk to the hallway to answer whomever it is.
I say a quiet hello and sniff Ryan’s shirt. It smells like home as I wrap myself tightly inside it.
“Hello,” I sing again as I wait for an answer. After a few minutes, I start to get annoyed for being dragged out of bed for nothing. I hear Two’s dog barking in the distance but no other noises besides that. I leave the intercom and decide to go make Ryan a coffee, perhaps the caffeine will bolster his strength and we can continue the bedroom gymnastics a little longer.
As I’m pouring the coffee there’s a knock at the door, and I skip to answer it before they knock again and wake Ryan. Whoever it is must have been let through the foyer door to get this far.
“Joan, babe. God you look amazing. I’ve missed you!” Chris, his face partially obscured by another large, cheap looking bunch of flowers, says and walks around me, straight into my apartment. “I’ll just put these in some water. Good, you’re making coffee...”
I’m still holding the door open, my feet, as if rooted to the ground, don’t want to move. I can hear the tinkle of spoons and the sound of the refrigerator door open and close. My feet fly into action and I sprint down the hallway and launch myself into the kitchen. I need to get rid of Chris, before Ryan wakes up.
“Whoa there!” Chris catches me around my waist as I enter the kitchen. “Hey, I’ve missed you too. There’ll be plenty of time for all that later, let’s have a coffee first. You can help me move my things back in later, and then tonight we’ll celebrate.”
Chris lets go of me and moves to the counter. It’s like he never even left as he hangs his coat on the cupboard door and sips coffee from Ryan’s cup. Chris is wearing the Ralph Lauren shirt I bought him for Christmas and the cheap, imitation sports trainers his dad bought for him. He smells of his favourite aftershave, the one that brings out my hay fever. I can already feel my eyes starti
ng to itch.
“Not sure about this coffee, Joan, think we should probably go back to buying our usual brand,” he says, as he looks through the pile of mail on the counter.
I snatch the mail out of his hand.
“Chris, what are you even doing here? We broke up. You need to go. You can’t just turn up here when you feel like it.”
Chris looks shocked that I took the mail, and his eyes widen like a hurt puppy. He puts down his coffee and holds out his hands, placing them on my wrists.
“Joan, baby, we’re made for each other you and I. New York wasn’t interested in the app, damn fools! And, it’s like really expensive to stay out there. I was out of money in no time at all. It’s then that it hit me. You. I missed you. I packed my things straight up and got on the first flight my dad booked for me. I’ve been figuring everything out, but Joan, I never stopped loving you, just like you never stopped loving me.”
A dark shadow catches my attention from the doorway, and I look up to see Ryan. He’s wearing my baby pink, fluffy dressing gown, and throwing me a stare so cold the temperature in the room becomes frosty.
My mouth drops open and my head falls to the side. I try to stutter a response, but I’m in a state of shock. Chris notices Ryan and looks from me to him. He focuses on both of us in turn as if the situation is a complex equation.
“’I’m headed off,” Ryan says. “I’ll see you around, Four.”
The air leaves my lungs in a rush. “What? Ryan, wait...” I call after him, but Ryan has long legs, and his path isn’t blocked by Chris, whose eyes and nose now appear to be leaking snot. I skirt around Chris and run after Ryan. He makes it to his door and closes it before I get there.
I hammer on the door yelling, “Ryan, it wasn’t what it looked like...”
“Oh honey, when someone screams that it isn’t what it looks like, it’s usually exactly what it looks like.” Big-Tits-Twenty stands at the end of the hall, dressed in her barely there Lycra workout clothes.
I give Twenty a middle-fingured-salute and walk back into my apartment, slamming the door.
ONCE CHRIS HAS LEFT, I shower and dress in leggings and a hoody. I curl up on the sofa and instead of wrapping myself in Chesney, I wrap myself in Ryan’s shirt. It’s lame, I know, but it just feels like the right thing to do. After a while, I receive a text message from Melinda telling me that date number ten will be picking me up from my apartment at six.
Her message is clipped and to the point.
I call her straight back.
“Melinda, I’m so sorry. I should have been there for you, and instead I was spewing on about leaving. I don’t want to leave...” I tell her all about my night with Ryan and what followed. I explain that Chris now knows we are not getting back together but that we did leave things on good terms. He even let me in on a shiny nugget of information that I wasn’t expecting. Twenty definitely never slept with Ryan. She told Chris that she had the hots for her neighbour but that he was not interested in the slightest. The news made me hop with excitement to have it confirmed in this way, until I considered that the information came too late, Ryan had already walked out. He probably thinks that I’m back with Chris.
“So you see, no more dates, I can’t cope with any more. I’m all dated out.”
“Oh, babe. Just be ready at six. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go to the pub, drink, and dance, and just focus on having fun, okay.”
“Okay. If you promise no more dates.”
“No more dates, babe. You don’t need any more.”
SHORTLY AFTER FIVE, the intercom buzzes. I forgot that I had arranged for the estate agent to visit to complete a valuation. I buzz him in and wait in the doorway of my apartment.
As the agent walks down the corridor, I notice that he’s about my age with dirty blonde hair and a hint of swagger. He wears typical estate agent attire, too much hair gel and a creased shirt and tie from too many hours in a car. He carries a clipboard and a briefcase. I wave to him from my door, and then walk through to the kitchen to switch on the kettle. As I walk back into the hallway to check if he would like a coffee, I notice Ryan standing firm behind the agent, who is looking around the hallway, tape measure in hand.
“Terrible paint job—it will cost a few bob to get that put right,” Ryan says from over the agent’s shoulder. I grin and shake my head as I notice Ryan is clutching my fluffy pink dressing gown. Seeing him brings a strange fluttering to my belly and a weakness to my knees. “Might want to write down that the place needs modernising,” Ryan says and points to the agent’s clipboard. “Joanie,” he greets me with a stiff bob of his head.
“Ryan,” I return his greeting with an equally stiff bob to my head. “It really doesn’t need that much modernising,” I tell the agent with a weak smile. “Coffee?” I ask.
“Love one, Joanie, though can you use the filtered water, terrible hard water in this block. Better to let prospective buyers know what they’re letting themselves in for,” he tells the agent.
I take the dressing gown from Ryan and thank him for returning it.
“The water really isn’t that hard,” I respond. The agent must think we have both taken leave of our senses. “You should check the bathroom. I had a new suite only last year.”
The agent goes as instructed through to the bathroom. Ryan leans his head in and tells him, “Might want to note the leaking shower.”
“Ryan, what are you doing?” I give him the stink eye.
“Joanie, honesty is always the best policy.”
I look at Ryan’s kind face. The anger from earlier now smoothed out and he dons a cute smile. A dirty thought enters my head as I think back to the filthy smile he wore last night, which now feels as though it was too long ago.
“You want a coffee?” I ask.
Ryan looks awkward as he leans against the doorway to the bathroom. “Nah, can’t stay. I just wanted to return your stuff. I’ve got to get ready for a date.”
“Oh.” I nod. I concentrate on stopping my mouth from glumly pointing down at the edges. “I’ll see you around then.”
“Sure will, Joanie,” Ryan says and walks out through the open door.
I go through to the lounge, sit down on Ryan’s chair, and put my bare feet on the coffee table, then sniff my dressing gown.
Trust Ryan to start dating on the day that I finally realise I’m in love with him.
Chapter 20
“WEAR THE RED DRESS. No, not that one. Ah, here, put this on,” Melinda yells. My shoulders sag and I begrudgingly pull the dress over my head.
“Please, can we just stay here, watch bad movies and get wasted on wine?” I beg.
“No, we can’t. If Six wants to go out on dates, making you all miserable that is his deal. But you, Joanie Fox, are not staying in and staying miserable. We’re going to cheer you up if it’s the last thing we do! Right, where is your curling iron? Close your eyes and keep your head still...”
Melinda gets me ready with the speed of a well practiced school run and before long we are packed up in her car on our way to the pub.
“Hey, I thought you weren’t driving?” I ask, thinking how even more miserable tonight will be without a drinking partner.
“Oh, yeah, of course, I um... I’m just going to leave the car at the pub. We’ll get a taxi home and I’ll pick it up tomorrow,” Melinda replies.
“Uh-huh,” I say, trying to muster some enthusiasm.
Melinda pulls the car up outside the Goose and Gander, which is a pub not far from my apartment. Never mind a taxi; we can walk from here. At least the night just got cheaper. She opens my door and ushers me along the pavement and into the dimly lit pub that smells of stale beer. There’s a fair crowd out tonight, but I decide it lacks atmosphere and ask if we can go somewhere else.
“Joanie, the mood you’re in you’ll be miserable no matter where you go, now—you get the drinks in and I’ll find a table.”
I trudge to the bar and order the drink I always have when I’m depressed:
two Gin and Tonics, and then I order Melinda’s Vodka and Coke.
As I place the drinks down on the table Melinda has claimed for us, right in the middle of the bar, opposite the stage, Melinda says, “Look around, there are some hotties here tonight. Look over there.”
I look. “Uh! Too squinty,” I say.
“Okay, what about him?” Melinda points to her right.
“Uh, too skinny,” I say.
“Uh-huh, yeah he is a bit straw like. Ooh, he’s nice...” She points to a very young, cherubic guy smiling at us from the bar. He then looks to his equally young friend, says something and then they both gawk at us.
“You should totally go for him, Melinda. I think once he finally hits puberty, you’ll have a real catch on your hands.” I let out a little chuckle and Melinda joins in.
“See, that’s better. There’s my funny Joanie. You’ll be okay, honey.” Melinda puts her hand on mine and my eyes fill up with tears. “Oh, shit, now stop that, right now. We’re going to have fun. Oh goody, look, the Karaoke is starting.”
“Yay,” I deadpan. “Kara-fucking-oke!”
“I’ll be right back.” Melinda smiles and nips to the bathroom. I utilize the time by downing my drinks and heading to the bar for more. I have to shout my order to the barman as a drunk, tone deaf giant with a strong German accent destroys Kings of Leon’s, Sex On Fire.
When I return from the bar with a tray full of drinks, Melinda has returned from the bathroom. I ask her when she intends to start dating again.
“Uh-uh, no way. I’m done. By the time the kids are in bed, I barely have enough energy to take care of my own hygiene let alone take care of business. I’m off men, completely done.”
“Mel, you’ll change your mind. Perhaps you could enrol in cookery classes. They seem to be the new speed dating if Mikey’s luck is anything to go by. Or maybe Mikey and I could put our heads together, come up with a new dating strategy for you and give us a chance to get our own back, huh?” I laugh but Melinda is too preoccupied checking her phone to respond.