The Second Time I Saw You: The Oxford Blue Series #2

by Pippa Croft

  ‘It’s pretty neat. Is there a non-alcoholic option?’ He takes a glass of Virgin Tequila Sunrise from the table and chinks it against our Sundowners.

  ‘It must have been incredibly tough to get into the final sixteen,’ Immy says, her eyes seemingly fascinated by his guns. ‘Was the training as awful as they say?’

  ‘Oh, it was nothing,’ he says airily, then laughs. ‘In truth, it was hell and I’m pretty pleased with myself for having survived this far, so you’ll have to put up with the smugness.’

  Immy giggles. ‘I think we can live with it. Would you mind if I felt your bicep? I’ve always wanted to touch one and see if they’re as hard as they look.’

  I literally have to bite my lip at this, and after a moment of confusion, Scott laughs. ‘Sure you can, but I think you’ll be disappointed.’

  ‘I doubt it.’ With her free hand, Immy reaches out and squeezes Scott’s bicep through his shirt as if she’s testing a mango for ripeness. ‘Yes, that definitely lives up to expectations.’

  ‘I’m happy to be of service.’

  Immy slurps her cocktail, then says, ‘Really?’

  ‘So does this mean you’ve a good chance of being in the First Eight?’

  ‘Possibly. I’ll either be in the Blues boat or the reserve boat, which I suppose I should be happy with. Some of the guys didn’t make the cut and I’d hate to be in their shoes after all this training. Now at least I know I’ll get to row on the tideway; whether it’s in the Blues boat or Isis, we’ll have to wait and see. I don’t think I can work any harder than I am and the final eight is down to the selectors. However, while I have breath in my body, I’m going to work like fuck to get there.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll do it,’ says Immy.

  ‘You’ll make it,’ I say, planting a kiss on his cheek, which may be a mistake but it’s what I feel like doing and after recent events, I’m not going to let anything or anyone stop me from doing what I feel is right. ‘You deserve it.’

  His eyes shine with pride, lighting up his handsome face, tanned by all the hours spent on the river. His features are chiselled in the way of the super fit. Alexander has the same honed look, but definitely in the English style, leaner and not so square of jaw. Alexander has an austere handsomeness and an animal sexuality that makes him feel unpredictable and dangerous to be around. Scott makes me feel so relaxed and at ease, like I shouldn’t have a care in the world.

  ‘Uh-oh. Maisey has spotted you.’

  ‘Oh fuck.’

  She homes in on us like a heat-seeking missile and grabs his arm. ‘Scott, you should have told me you were here! It’s so amazing you turned up. We are all so proud of your achievements. Come here, I’ve got some people I want you to meet. Do you know …’

  I don’t hear the names of the lucky and important people who get to meet Scott because Maisey has whisked him off.

  A few minutes later, Scott is, literally, being dragged out to the front of the Hall by Maisey, a feat I would have thought impossible. She calls for silence down the PA and regales the guests with tales of his exploits. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks incredibly embarrassed when we all have to give him three Brit-style cheers before he’s toasted in tequila. Her request for a speech, however, is met with brief yet good-humoured thanks before he escapes. I think he’s trying to get to us but he’s being clapped on the back and smothered with congratulations.

  ‘Imogen? What are you doing here?’

  ‘Oh, hello, Anna!’

  Immy’s attention is claimed by a girl who I think is one of the Blues women’s tennis squad members, who sweeps her off to the other side of the room, just as Scott finally looks like making it back to our side. I can guess she doesn’t want to be drawn away from Scott but she has no choice.

  ‘Will you be coming to watch the race in London?’ Scott asks when he finally reaches me again.

  ‘I’ve no plans yet but as you’re going to be one of the stars, I’ll make sure I do.’

  ‘You’d better not let Alex hear you say that.’

  I laugh off the comment. ‘If you’re trying to provoke me, it won’t work. I meant what I said, about not letting anything stop me from seeing my friends.’

  Maybe I see something change in his expression at the ‘friend’ word but the smile is quickly back. ‘You’re right, I was trying to stir things. You seem a little edgy, however.’

  Of course I’m edgy. The sex clip is never that far from my mind, but I know what would happen if I mentioned it to Scott. He would only use it to reinforce my doubts about Alexander, and I wouldn’t blame him.

  A waiter arrives with a plate piled high with appetizers and hors d’oeuvres. ‘The hostess sent these over.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Mini taco? Pulled-pork slider?’ My mouth waters but I’m trying to avoid the many temptations on offer in Oxford. I’ve had to start jogging again to keep my figure, and added an extra dance class to my schedule. Nonetheless, Scott’s not about to help me resist temptation of any kind and he offers up the plate to me.

  ‘No, I’ll pass.’

  ‘What about a stuffed jalapeño?’

  ‘Really, I shouldn’t.’

  ‘ “Really, I shouldn’t.” ’ He mocks me in a high-pitched ‘girly’ voice. ‘You’re picking up the accent, Lauren.’

  ‘I am not!’

  He slips the jalapeño into my open mouth before I can stop it. Wow, that is hot. My mouth tingles like crazy and not in a good way. Scott watches, obviously relishing every moment. After I’ve swallowed the jalapeño, hoping my mascara isn’t running, he thrusts a taco in front of my nose.

  ‘No more. Mercy!’

  The taco waggles. ‘Go on, you know you want to.’

  ‘I do want to but I daren’t,’ I laugh.

  ‘And that is the story of my life.’ His expression changes from teasing to serious. ‘Listen, my friend, in just a few months we’ll both be back in the US. How are things with Alexander?’

  ‘I’m taking each day as it comes,’ I say quietly.

  ‘Really? I would have thought that Alexander might have longer-term plans.’

  ‘He’s in the army; he can’t afford to have long-term plans, especially since his father died.’

  ‘Yeah, I can believe that, and I’m sorry. But what about your long-term plans, Lauren?’

  Whew. He is not going to let me off the hook and it’s not something I can really face thinking about right now. ‘I have plenty,’ I lie airily, ‘but none I want to discuss now. I just want to get through this term. You would not believe how much I have to do before the vac and I get my exam-essay topics at the end of term.’

  ‘I know – still, the year will be over before we know it. I hope we’ll stay friends once we’re back in the US,’ he says brightly.

  I make my reply super casual. ‘I don’t know if I’ll definitely be going straight back yet. I had thought of working with an art auctioneers in New York but now I think I might get a job as a curator with a museum or gallery in Europe instead. Maybe even in London.’

  ‘So you won’t stay on at Oxford to do a DPhil?’

  I laugh. ‘My tutor seems to want me to, but I’m not sure that’s because he’s interested in my intellectual skills.’

  Scott pulls a face. ‘And does Alex figure in any of these scenarios?’

  I bat this one right back to him: ‘I don’t know that either.’

  He gives a low whistle. ‘Does he know that?’

  ‘I refer you to my previous answer. Can we change the subject, please?’

  ‘Sure. Sorry, didn’t mean to put you on the spot. You are OK, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I am OK. I’m fine. More than fine.’

  ‘OK. So I take it things are going well with Alexander?’ He carries on probing me.

  My toes curl in embarrassment. I don’t want to answer this question, even to myself, in case I decide that the answer is ‘yes’.

  ‘I plead the Fifth.’

  ‘You’
ve a right to but it’s a legit question because, let’s face it, Lauren, you could have your pick of any guy in Oxford. Any guy in England or the States. You’re smart and sexy. Your parents are practically US royalty and you blush so cutely.’

  I blush some more at this and try to laugh off his teasing. ‘I could name you plenty of guys who don’t agree,’ I say, thinking of Rupert, Henry Favell and a couple of guys from last term who hit on me and Immy in the pub and got punched by Alexander – not to mention a few of his relations. Since I met him, I’ve definitely made some enemies.

  ‘Show me who they are and I’ll show them the error of their ways.’ Scott is only half serious and I relax, realizing I’m probably reading too much into what he’s saying. We go back to our usual easy chat when suddenly I feel a hand rest on my back, and smell the crisp scent of Creed.

  I turn to him and his hand caresses my lower back. ‘Alexander? How did you get here?’

  ‘I walked. So we meet again, Scott. Someone told me you made the Boat Race crew. May I offer my congratulations?’ Alexander thrusts out his free hand while keeping the other firmly at my waist. ‘I’m seriously impressed.’

  I’m so surprised to see Alexander, and that he knows Scott’s news and that he’s shaking hands with him and sounding genuinely impressed, that I am speechless.

  ‘Thanks, Alex.’

  I wait for the bone-mashing contest to start but the handshake is brief this time and seems almost normal. I still wouldn’t want to be part of it. They drop hands and I suspect the truce is over.

  ‘I don’t think Lauren was expecting you,’ says Scott mischievously.

  ‘I know, but she did invite me and I decided I needed a break from my work.’

  ‘She told me about your father. I’m sorry for your loss.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Alexander’s facade is in place, ultra polite, but he swiftly moves on. ‘So, when do you hear if you’ve made the final cut?’

  Maisey’s laser guidance system has kicked in and she rustles up while Scott is explaining the selection process, her headdress fluttering madly. ‘Oh my God, you must be Lord Falconbury?’ She pronounces the name as ‘Falcon-berry’, like it’s an exotic variety of soft fruit.

  ‘Alexander will be perfectly acceptable.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  Oh, I so love watching Alexander pretend to be delighted to meet someone.

  Maisey simpers. ‘I told Lauren to invite you but she said you were way too busy with your work. I was so sorry to hear about your father’s passing, by the way. I read his obituary in The Times. It’s always so tragic when a war hero is taken before his time.’

  Ouch.

  ‘Was he a war hero?’ I ask, without thinking.

  ‘He was awarded the DSO but he’d have despised anyone who called him a hero.’

  ‘What’s the DSO?’ Maisey asks, fan fluttering, working the blushing señorita for all it’s worth.

  ‘Distinguished Service Order,’ says Scott unexpectedly. ‘The brother of one of the guys in the squad has one.’

  ‘Really? Who is he?’ Alexander’s interest is piqued and he’s clearly keen to move the focus to someone else.

  Scott names a guy and a regiment and Alexander nods. ‘I think I know his cousin; we were at Sandhurst together.’

  ‘You guys are unbelievable,’ Maisey purrs, wide-eyed.

  I smile. ‘They sure are.’

  One of the waiters brings a tray and Maisey pipes up, ‘Lord Falconbury, can I offer you an hors d’oeuvre? A pulled-pork slider, perhaps?’

  ‘Or a stuffed jalapeño?’ Scott swipes one from the tray, and pops it whole into his mouth, with a look aimed squarely at me.

  ‘I’ve eaten, actually, but thanks for the offer,’ says Alexander.

  A guy dressed in chaps and a Stetson hurries up to us. ‘Maisey, can you come to the bathrooms? Some guy smashed a glass and there’s blood all over the tiles. It looks like Saw in there.’

  ‘So? Can’t you deal with it? I’m busy.’

  ‘I would, but the Dean just phoned. He wants to speak to the organizer about the noise levels. People are complaining and you know what he’s like.’

  ‘Oh, screw the Dean, he’s an asshole …’ She clamps her hand over her mouth and glances at Alexander in horror. ‘I am so sorry for the language, Lord Falconbury.’

  ‘Hadn’t you better go?’ I butt in. ‘It sounds serious.’

  ‘I guess so, but I’ll be back. Don’t you dare go anywhere.’ She bats Alexander on the arm with her fan just as Immy reappears.

  ‘Hello, boys.’

  Alexander’s lips twist in amusement. He likes her, despite the fact I know he suspects she gossips about him behind his back, with me.

  ‘You look very well, Immy,’ says Scott.

  Immy pulls a face. ‘I hope that doesn’t mean I look fat.’

  He gives her a look up and down. ‘It means you look great. I’m American, I don’t do sarcasm.’

  ‘Oh, I think you could do everything, Scott. But your glass is empty – can I get you another Sundowner? Or maybe a Margarita?’

  He pulls a face. ‘Unfortunately, I’m on the Virgin stuff for the time being.’

  ‘Never mind, I can be a Virgin too, if required.’

  ‘I had no idea about your father’s war record,’ I say when I’m alone with Alexander.

  ‘Why would you?’

  ‘I suppose it should have been obvious, yet he didn’t approve of you doing the same?’

  ‘Clearly not.’

  I’m more convinced than ever now that General Hunt didn’t want to lose his son as well as his wife, but had no means of expressing that beyond demanding he run the estate. Then again, he could have been punishing Alexander for what happened to Lady Hunt. Oh, screw it, I really have no idea; I’m no psychiatrist.

  ‘I still can’t believe you came along tonight,’ I say.

  ‘I decided that keeping an eye on you was more important than work.’

  ‘You know what? I don’t think it’s me who needs watching.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. I think we both may.’ We hear a giggle and spot Immy and Scott laughing over at the cocktail bar.

  ‘Is Immy still seeing Skandar?’ asks Alexander with a frown.

  ‘When has being in a relationship stopped anyone from flirting with someone else they fancy?’

  His eyes darken but I couldn’t resist it, even though I know I’m stepping into dangerous territory.

  ‘I hope that’s not a hint. I’ve said that video was filmed before I’d even met you. How am I ever going to convince you of that?’

  ‘I don’t know but you’ll have to try very hard and very often, and even then, I may never believe you. Is that why you turned up here after all? Out of guilt? To make it up to me?’

  He meets the challenge of my gaze without a flicker of emotion. ‘A, I have absolutely nothing to be guilty about and B, I don’t need to make anything up to you. The person who sent the film should be the one apologizing and we don’t know who that is.’

  ‘No, we don’t, and maybe we never will, but I’ve got a little list and it starts with “V”.’

  ‘The reason I decided to come along,’ he says, ignoring my unsubtle hint, ‘is that I thought it might amuse you if I showed my face.’

  ‘Oh, it has.’

  ‘And now I’ve done my duty, I’d better take you home.’

  ‘What makes you think you’ve done your duty, Captain Hunt? I think you still have some considerable time to serve here. I know Maisey would just love it if you asked to be introduced to the rest of the USSoc committee.’

  He grimaces. ‘Fuck. Do I absolutely have to?’

  I smile sweetly. ‘Yes, you absolutely do.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Whether Alexander’s motives for attending the party were for my sake or his, I’m glad he did turn up. Immy stayed on until Scott left to get an early night because of his training and we all walked home together.r />
  After we’d made love on Saturday morning, Alexander had a call from Falconbury and had to go back for a few days. Whenever he leaves, I have mixed feelings, because I obviously love the sex and I love being with him, but I also know I should use the time and space for my studies and to have a good time. It’s now the following Friday and he’s still at Falconbury. Technically, he could be sent down for spending so much time away from Oxford but I don’t think any of the college authorities would dare do that in view of what’s happened to him. Even if he hadn’t lost his father, I still don’t think they’d dare, just because he’s Alexander.

  I have to say that by this stage of the week, I’m itching to be back in his bed again and looking forward to seeing him tonight, as he’s promised he’ll be back.

  I’ve just got back to my room after having lunch with some of my coursemates at the wholefoods cafe near the faculty and decide to Skype my mother, whose first reaction is to tell me it isn’t her birthday again. I’m not sure if she’s being ironic but I make a mental note to keep in touch more often from now on. My parents still don’t know I’m seeing anyone, although I think they have their suspicions, and my lack of calls will only reinforce that impression. My moodiness over the Christmas vacation must have put them on their guard and my mother asked me more than once if I needed to ‘talk’.

  By now, having attended Alexander’s father’s funeral, you would think I might have mentioned him to them, but I’m still wary. Things are so up and down between us, and my parents will consider things ‘significant’ if I confess I’m dating him and then I’ll never hear the last of it.

  My mother’s parting comment to me was a hint to check my mail so I skip down to the Lodge, where my favourite young porter is on duty.

  ‘Any packages arrived for me?’ I ask.

  ‘As a matter of fact, I was going to call your room.’ He pulls a white cardboard box from behind a chair and lays it on top of the counter.

  ‘Thanks. I’m expecting something from home.’

  ‘It’s not from America. It was delivered by a courier while you were out.’