Bad Girl

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  “I should run the bath and we should get ready to go out.”

  “You should but it’s only four and we can nap, then get ready, plus we both smell pretty because of the massage oil.”

  “There’s that,” he agrees, and we begin to fall asleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  At a pub near the hotel, we eat dinner tucked away in a snug corner by a roaring fire, watching the flames. I wore my white cashmere dress tonight but he hasn’t complained once about being over-stimulated – I think because I drained him earlier.

  He has his arm around me and is staring at the fire. I’m on my second pint of IPA and feeling drowsier than drowsy. He hasn’t drunk tonight because he’s driving and the Aussies don’t drink at all when driving, that’s a thing of theirs, he says. I also fear he would be much like me if he did – almost blind comatose with all this relaxation, sex and food. We just ate three courses: duck to start, fish for dinner, big gooey puddings for dessert. And it was all super delicious, Cole couldn’t get enough. I know he secretly loves the hearty type of food you get out here, in the sticks.

  “You know,” I whisper, touching his chest, “if we lived here, you could wear a sexy sweater like this all the time and look super, super hot and sexy all of the time.”

  He turns and smiles, ducking his head down to kiss my neck just below my ear. His jumper has one of those sexy toggles and the collar is thick. It looks new, so perhaps he bought it just for this trip, or else he had it when he was in England before and never wore it much then.

  “You think this is sexy, yeah?” His laughter lines appear remarkably smooth since his facial earlier, his skin gleaming, but thank god he still has lines at all because he does look sexy when he smiles and the lines show. I love them.

  “I think this sweater makes you look even bigger and nastier,” I groan, right in his ear.

  He puts his hand on my knee and warns, “Be careful, Chloe. There’s a roaring fire here and a rug. And a very white dress I would like to tear in two.”

  I bite my lip and have trouble stopping myself laughing. “I’ll behave.”

  “You’d better,” he warns.

  I rest my head on his shoulder, staring at the fire together. We’re in front of a little table for two on two stools, our cheeks hot from the flames.

  “The lady doing my nails earlier was saying she could see why you’d want me. It was a new thing, I have to admit.”

  He huffs out a half-laugh. “What?”

  We link our fingers and he shakes his head.

  “Well, I got the distinct impression that your body had set a few tongues wagging in that place… and then she was saying about my skin being good and she could see why you’d want me. Being how I look and all.”

  His chest shakes up and down with suppressed laughter. “Is it just me, or are you only just figuring out how hot you are? I mean, god, Chlo. Come on!”

  I grab his chin and turn his head sharply to face me. He’s wearing a fake frown and half a smile.

  “I will have you know, I thought you loved my brain more than my body.”

  “I love both equally,” he mumbles through his squidged mouth.

  “Good.” I kiss his silly lips and release him, watching him work his jaw back into place before going back to fire gazing.

  How simple men are really. They want something pretty and they go for it. They see a fire and nothing else matters for the time being. They hunger and they eat. They thirst and they drink. They want children and they have sex. They want to tie a woman down and they pull out a ring.

  Us women have to consider how all of the above might change us in the long term. We women think we have to be perfect all of the time, whereas most men only concern themselves with being men. Do they care if they get fat once married? Has Cole once considered that if we have kids, I might get fat and he might not fancy me anymore? Or is that not even a thing… because maybe he will always fancy me, no matter what. Once a mother, will I ever truly be free of the responsibility? Will he? Will I ever be physically the same again? No, probably not. Will he? Probably yes. All these damn possibilities, racing around my brain.

  “How many kids do you want?” I ask, and he turns from the fire to face me instead.

  “At least two,” he says.

  “And boys, or girls?”

  “One of each.”

  “What if I got fat?”

  “Then there’d be more to grab hold of.”

  “And what if you got fat? From all the stress drinking?”

  “Then you’d have more to grab hold of.”

  I punch his chest playfully. “You wouldn’t get fat!”

  “I know. I tried, believe me, I tried.”

  I shake my head, facepalming.

  “And where would you want to get married?” he asks, resting his hand in my lap. I put my fingers through his and stare at the fire, knowing he’s watching me now.

  “On the beach, with flowers in my hair, the wind in my face. Just a few people. A pretty, flowing dress, nothing too extravagant, something me. Hot wings after I’ve changed into something more comfortable, a barbie on the beach and dancing until sunset. You know, something simple.”

  I turn to see him staring at me, shocked, surprised. “You might just be the most perfect woman.”

  “I realise that, especially after today. I mean, wow, just wow.”

  “The state I was in or the beautician woman chatting you up?”

  “She wasn’t chatting me up, she was trying to find out more about you so she could go and tell the other girls and they could rate your husband potential and debate your level of attractiveness, then fantasise about you when they get home… in your suit and tie or your surfer outfit, or in your dumb baggy shorts with that huge boner of yours.”

  His cheeks puff out with suppressed laughter and he looks cute, if anything.

  “So that’s what you fantasise about when I’m not here, my dumb baggy shorts?”

  “Maybe.” I flutter my eyelashes. “Maybe it’s the way they’re easily tented.”

  “Easy to get my hand inside them and wank off to thoughts of you, in white…”

  My shoulders lift as I breathe in deeply, then lower as I breathe out slowly. He does these things to me. I’m under his spell. I’m wrapped up in all of this. I’m drenched in his love. It’s new and serious and complete. It could be perfect; it could be everything.

  He grabs my faux fur coat and gestures towards my half-drunk beer. “Come on, gorgeous. You haven’t drunk anything in twenty minutes. You’re done.”

  I don’t argue, don’t complain. He wraps me in my coat and takes me away, bundling me up in the car, even putting my belt on. I almost fall asleep on the way back to the hotel, but for his singing along to the CD I currently have in going in the sound system – London Grammar, a group we saw live a few times when he was in London with me. I find their music therapeutic, haunting and calming. He must, too.

  We arrive back at the hotel and he’s about to pick me up and carry me when I hold my hands up.

  “This dress will ride up, honey. Not a chance. I’ve got the tiniest pair of pants on under here and people have already seen enough of me today.”

  He chuckles and grabs my hand. “Well, when a man can’t be a gentleman…”

  I laugh at him. “Shut up. You already brought me here and I let you organise it all. You’re lucky I let you drive.”

  “She admits it, she’s a control freak.”

  “Am not.”

  “Says you.”

  I pout all the way up in the lift and even as he’s undressing my tired arse and directing me to the toilet naked, where he brushes my teeth for me as I pee, even offering me a cup to spit in which he washes out at the sink.

  I climb into bed and almost fall asleep, when he slides in beside me, wraps me in his embrace and says, “We’ll go walking tomorrow. It’s meant to snow. I can’t wait. I haven’t ever seen snow.”

  “You haven’t?”

  “No
, babe.”

  “Oh baby, I can’t wait.”

  He kisses my hair and the sensation of falling from a great height hits me so hard, I shake violently as I trip over and sink, then suddenly land as though on a pillow of the most unimaginably soft feathers, his love catching me.

  ***

  The day before he has to leave, emotions are fraught and things are tense. It’s Tuesday today and I have to go back to work tomorrow. He has to get the train to London in the morning and stay in a hotel before flying at four a.m. the next day. Everything feels shit. Which is why I suggested we come out to the cinema tonight to see the latest Marvel film, which I’m barely watching. It feels pretty much as though he isn’t either, his face set in some sort of aggrieved expression he can’t wipe off. We’ve basically ignored the passing of time up to now, wrapped up so tightly and securely within one another, we didn’t see this coming. Now we have to be parted and we’re both wishing, maybe a little, that we hadn’t had this blissful time together because it means we have to part and it’s going to hurt like hell.

  We spent two glorious nights at Oulton Hall and on the second day, I didn’t think about Adam once or the fact that it was where he married Susan. It didn’t even occur to me, because that whole day it was snowing, I was just so happy walking around the grounds with Cole in the snow, laughing and falling around as we threw snowballs and made a snowman. It was the stuff of dreams… the type of day you don’t ever want to end. We curled up in bed that night with room service and hot mulled wine. We made passionate love and I thought I’d been happy the day before, but that day I was even happier. In fact, every day since he came here, I’ve woken up feeling happier and happier, each and every morning. I know that it could be like this forever. I want it to continue, I don’t want it to end.

  We’ve spoken about him moving here, quitting his job as soon as he gets back and moving everything right back here. I told him he can’t do that, I won’t let him. I’ve told him that we know what the best thing for us is, and it’s for me to go there – for me to let go and move on, to something better, something more. For each of us it would be hard to leave everything behind but it would be harder for him. He loves the UK and he would easily find work here but Cole’s the type of being that doesn’t belong under a sunless sky. His warmth is what attracted me to his side of the world… his warmth is what saved me.

  I’m sort of shocked when the credits of the film roll up because I not only lost track of the plot but also the time. It feels like we’ve been in here ages, true but I thought we had longer to enjoy our last date before he leaves. I thought… for the best.

  We’re winding our way through the cinemagoers exiting the theatre all at once when I hear my name.

  “Chloe, over here, Chloe!” I look around as does Cole, checking if he’s hearing things.

  I know that voice.

  I spot Paul, stood beside Adam, holding a bunch of snacks and a ticket for probably the same film we just watched – except in true nerd style, they’re going for the late-night showing – no doubt having enjoyed a bromantic date at Red’s right before coming here.

  Cole takes my hand and paints on a smile as he leads me over.

  “Hey, man. How’s it going? What you doing over here?” Paul shakes hands with Cole while Adam looks surprised… and speechless.

  “I had some leave and here I am. Spending time with Chloe. I have to return home tomorrow, it’s a bummer.”

  Adam and Cole exchange awkward looks and I look at Paul, asking with my eyes, ‘What the fuck? What the fuck?’ He must know I feel railroaded into facing a situation I really would rather not.

  “How’s it going, Adam?” I ask, in a desperate bid to disperse the tension.

  “I have a new lodger,” he says, laughing nervously. “Paul came back at Christmas to see his mum, and here we are, bums together again.”

  “Just don’t tell Theo,” I warn Paul, shaking my head. “He will be up here like a shot and kill you.”

  “He knows already. I told him,” says Adam, who’s cradling a ridiculous mountain of snacks and seems to be pissing off my lover, just by standing there.

  “Oh yeah?” I scratch my neck because I’m developing a rash. Also, I know there’s a tremor in my voice that’s not normally there and I’m aching to get out of here – just anywhere there’s fresh air and not this cloying atmosphere.

  “If he had social media, let’s just say I’d be unfriended by now… on everything,” Adam tells us, trying his best to sound like he’s joking.

  Paul pulls a face and I glance quickly at Cole, who’s staring into the distance as though trying to control his reaction to what’s transpiring.

  “I can see why Theo might not be happy to know you two have moved in together,” I say, directing my comment at Paul, who looks unbelievably stressed – like he knows he’s unwittingly set off a bomb.

  “Theo didn’t like me before so I doubt he cares for me at all, especially now he has the world. He’s entitled. It’s fair. Just as long as Lily’s happy. Is she happy?” he asks, sounding more sincere.

  “I saw her not long ago. She’s really happy. Henry is beautiful. I expect Adam showed you pictures?”

  “Yeah, I saw them. She looks so beautiful and happy. She’s with who she’s meant to be with.” Paul makes a point of looking at Cole as he’s talking, even though Cole is ignoring our conversation and waiting for this shitshow to end so he can have it out with me at home.

  “We better go in,” Adam mumbles to Paul, truly like the underling he is and always has been to Paul’s whims and desires.

  “Shame we can’t catch up properly,” Paul says, raising his voice in Cole’s direction.

  Cole acknowledges Paul. “Yeah, real shame.”

  Adam’s already moving away from us when Paul puts a hand on my arm and says, “You look really good, Chlo. Really good. If you see Lily, tell her I’m happy for her. Really. Okay?”

  “Maybe, I might. Maybe.”

  They head inside the screen we just vacated, the clean-up no doubt having been done in record timing – or not at all. Once they’re gone and we’re heading out, I start shaking a little – like the adrenalin either just kicked in or is finally leaving, I can’t tell which. I pretend it’s the cold air as we get out onto the street and Cole directs me towards where we parked the car.

  We jump in and wait for the ice to melt on the windscreen. I’m also blowing warm air into my hands while we wait for my old Volvo to catch up.

  I start the engine and he looks out of the window, saying nothing, the whole drive home. I park up on the street outside the house, which he seems to take offence to because it’s taking me a while to line up properly in a fairly small space.

  I let us inside and he darts straight up the stairs, heading who knows where.

  I walk to the kitchen to put the kettle on and I’m surprised as hell when he appears in the hallway with his bag over his shoulder.

  “What’s—”

  “I can’t do this,” he says, “I can’t. I have to go.”

  I’m wondering what the fuck, when he turns and makes for the door.

  I run faster than I’ve ever run and bar the door before he can open it. “Cole, no. Don’t leave. I need you. Don’t leave. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

  “That’s why you never talk about Adam,” he says, seething, his jaw almost set like stone. He has to rub his face to get it back in place. “It’s him, always has been. That fucking drongo.”

  “It’s not like that, it’s not.”

  “But it is him? Right? Your married friend? Your fucking friend?”

  “He’s getting divorced,” I admit, “he’s not married and he’s getting divorced and the last time we slept together was when I was nineteen.”

  He throws his head back, spewing, as he would say. Spewing with fury and disgust.

  His beautiful, full mouth is a tight line as he tries to control his emotions, his chin trembling and his whole body in shock.<
br />
  “I need you to let me explain,” I tell him softly, reaching out for his hand which he retracts, shocking me to my core, so much a tear rolls down my cheek. “It’s not what you think. Please.”

  “Okay, you can explain. But if I don’t like it, I’m off. I can’t, Chloe. I can’t.”

  I put a hand over my chest and rub my aching heart, trying to breathe. Just the thought of him leaving me tonight… when I haven’t even come to terms yet with him leaving tomorrow. I’m not mentally prepared whatsoever.

  I lead him to the kitchen and make the tea. He drops his bag by his feet but still has his jacket and shoes on.

  I pass him a cuppa but he puts it on the side and stares at the floor, like he can’t even think about taking anything inside him right now… he’s too much of a boiling hot ball of fury.

  I take a sip of my sugary tea, needing the sugar to calm down, though I never usually take sugar.

  “When I was a teenager, I thought to be cool I needed to be like my mum,” I begin, and I shakily tell him everything – the underage sex with older boys, the sleeping around, the reputation I had. “Adam was the first boy I really liked. He lost his virginity to me.” I sip some more tea, trying to combat my sandpaper mouth. “I don’t fancy him as much as I fancy you and I don’t love him as much as I love you, but the problem is, there’s something inside me that never closed off in regards to him. Something I can’t explain because I don’t understand it myself.” Cole looks up and wipes a tear from his cheek, not sure he wants to hear the rest. “Adam and I kept it so secret and I don’t know why, really. Maybe it was nice to keep a secret, or maybe I always knew I was his dirty secret. Then one night, Paul discovered the truth. He caught us kissing in a beer garden, trying to hide our thing.” I take a deep breath. “It was the look on Adam’s face when Paul caught us. Everyone knew Paul had a different girl every night and wasn’t judgemental when it came to that stuff, but there was this look he gave us… both of us, like he disapproved massively. And the look I got from Adam was much worse. It was like he was ashamed of me. Bearing in mind he was the only guy I’d ever really liked, it was like a punch to the gut.” I look over and Cole’s hanging his head still, but now he’s shaking it. “It was like he was really embarrassed and ashamed, but also a little bit disgusted with himself, and so, I ran away to York. During all my time in York, I didn’t see him except for the Christmas parties, once a year, because I stopped coming back to Leeds and I invited people to my house in York. Whatever we’d been doing, I cut it off. I’d been burnt and I buried it so deep, so, so deep, because that look, it’s imprinted on my mind. It’s burned into me.