I followed her into the living room with a quick glance behind me to check that Nick was coming too. He shot me a supportive smile.
“Bro,” said Chris, as he caught sight of Nick. He covered his brother in a huge hug and ruffled his hair. I swallowed, hoping he wasn’t going to do the same to me.
“Shit, man, so good to see you,” said Nick as he hugged his brother back just as heartily. “And, Holly, looking good as always.” He walked over to the sofa to greet the tall, skinny blonde girl sitting there. She was wearing black leather trousers, a gray jumper and was smoking a cigarette. Indoors.
“So, this must be the famous girlfriend,” said Chris. I looked at him weirdly. Why was he talking about Holly like that? “Ellie, right?”
I stared at him. He was smiling at me, waiting for an answer. I turned to look at Nick. He was smiling too. What the fuck? Why wasn’t he correcting his brother?
No one had spoken yet and Chris’ smile was starting to wane. Holly looked at me curiously as she puffed on what I had now realized was an e-cigarette.
OH GOD. HE’D TOLD THEM I WAS HIS GIRLFRIEND. Nick wasn’t my fuck buddy at all—he was my goddamn boyfriend and he hadn’t bothered to tell me.
Oh fuck fuck fuck. It was fine. This was a good thing. I could do this.
“Hi, yes, I’m Ellie,” I finally said.
Chris’ face relaxed. “Cool, nice to meet you. This is my girlfriend, Holly. Just . . . make yourself at home. We’re all having some whiskeys. You keen?”
I nodded mutely.
Chris poured me a drink and I took it gratefully, glad to have something to do with myself while everyone was staring at me.
“So, shall we all sit down then?” asked Nick. “What’s on the telly? Are the All Blacks playing?”
“It was on earlier, bro; you missed it. But we’ve got it recorded,” said Chris. “Are you big on the boys, Ellie?”
Weren’t the All Blacks another name for Converse? Or was that All Stars? Either way, there was no way I was going to guess and put my foot in it. I shrugged with a helpless smile, hoping Nick would save me.
He obliged: “Ellie’s not much of rugby fan, are you?”
Ah. “Yeah, I pretty much hate all sport,” I explained. Chris’ eyes widened and Holly stopped puffing on her e-cig.
“Seriously?” she said. “I have no idea how you’re going to cope going out with a Kiwi.”
I refrained from pointing out that this was pretty much the first I’d heard that we were going out and instead poured the rest of the whiskey down me. So far, the casual mini-break was not going as planned.
“Ah, I’m sure Ellie will be a true All Blacks fan after going out with me for a few weeks,” said Nick, putting his arm around me.
I smiled weakly at him, trying not to throw up the whiskey I’d just swallowed. I, Ellie Kolstakis, now had a boyfriend. A bona fide partner who wanted to teach me to like his favorite sports. In a few months’ time, we’d probably be bickering over watching rugby or trash reality TV. I’d never get to watch The Only Way is Essex again.
I gripped the side of the sofa and tried to calm myself down. Nick was good-looking, successful and HE LIKED ME. Surely the whole point of my slutdom was to eventually find a boyfriend? I’d just skipped ahead a few stages. I probably just felt so weird because I wasn’t used to things happening quickly. I mean, it had taken me twenty-one years to break my hymen, for chrissake. No one could have predicted I’d have found a boyfriend so quickly. Besides, it was midnight on a Friday. I was knackered.
“Hey, Nick, when’s this game going to end? I’m kind of sleepy,” I said.
Chris turned to look at me in dismay. “What? You can’t go to sleep now—we just opened a full bottle of whiskey. Besides it’s fifteen–twelve to the Wallabies and Richie’s about to score a try.”
I stared at him blankly.
Holly sighed loudly. “He means we could be about to take the lead?”
“Oh, right, okay,” I said. I turned to Nick to see if he cared that Richie was about to score, but his eyes were glued to the screen.
“YESSSSS!!” he screamed, jumping up.
“McCaw’s done it again,” yelled Chris, as he enveloped his brother in another bear hug. Holly was jumping up too, punching the air. I wasn’t.
“Ah did you see that, Ellie?” cried Nick, as he wrapped me in a hug.
“Mmm, very good. So has New Zealand won?”
“Well, it’s only halftime,” he said.
My mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”
“Oh my God, Ellie thought it was over,” crowed Holly. “Bless. There’s still forty minutes left. More whiskey?”
No, I did not want more whiskey; I wanted to go to bed with a hot water bottle. But Holly ignored my mental protestations and filled up my glass with Jameson.
“Thanks,” I said through gritted teeth. It looked like this was going to be a long night.
• • •
“So are your parents still downstairs?” I asked, as I sat on the bed pulling off my socks.
“Yeah, they’ll probably stay up a while longer,” said Nick. “They’re pretty cool.”
“Oh definitely.” I nodded, trying to stifle a yawn. We’d ended up staying downstairs drinking whiskey with the boys’ parents for another two hours of rugby highlights. I hadn’t even known Richie McCaw existed until 11:58 p.m. and now I never wanted to see his smug little face again.
“Do you like them? I reckon they’re pretty keen on you.”
“Yeah, of course,” I said. It was true; they were great. Linda had even winked when Nick eventually led my shattered body upstairs. My mum would have crossed herself and done a Hail Mary if she’d thought we were going up to shag. She didn’t even know I was here alone with Nick—I’d lied and said I was away with the girls.
Nick pulled his T-shirt off and came up behind me on the bed. He wrapped his arms around me and started nuzzling my neck. I grinned at the feel of his naked skin against my body and turned to face him.
“I’ve wanted to do this ever since I saw you at Waterloo in your weird little gum boots,” he said, kissing me and pulling my fleece over my head.
I kissed him back and took the rest of my clothes off, ignoring the fact he thought my wellies were weird. He did the same and we climbed under the covers. There was a thin layer of dust on the bedsheet and I tried not to think about the last time they’d been washed. Instead, I remembered Nick basically calling me his girlfriend. Had I just totally hallucinated or was I in a legit relationship?
“Nick?” I asked.
“Yes, gorgeous?”
Oh my God he called me gorgeous. I felt a grin spread across my face, then stopped. I needed to double check where we were at in this relationship, or whatever. “Were you, um, serious before? Like, with what your brother said and stuff? You know?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, trying to maneuver his penis into my vagina. What had happened to Cosmo’s rule that girls need twenty minutes of foreplay?
I pushed his hand off his penis. “Wait a sec. I just . . . Oh fuck it. Am I, or am I not, your girlfriend?”
Nick stopped trying to penetrate me and broke away from me. “Yeah. Is that not what we’re doing?”
Holy fuck. I had a boyfriend. An actual willing boyfriend who I hadn’t persuaded/influenced/blackmailed into being with me.
“Oh my God.” I grinned.
He laughed. “You Brits are so funny making everything official. I’ve thought of you as my girlfriend since our first proper date, Ellie. We’ve always been so open with each other—it’s not like it was going to just be a casual fling.”
“No, no, ’course not,” I said, still smiling inanely at him.
“Good. So, you’re happy then?”
“Yes, of course,” I cried. “I just never expected
it.”
“Well, so long as you weren’t shagging anyone else, I guess that doesn’t really matter.”
Oh shit.
Emma was right and so was Ollie; I’d basically cheated on Nick.
I lay there frozen. My mouth carried on kissing him, but my brain was not okay. All my horniness had disappeared and I couldn’t process anything that was happening. Had I cheated on the boyfriend I didn’t know I had?
“What’s wrong, Ellie?”
“Oh, nothing,” I said, forcing myself to act normally. I wrapped my arms around Nick’s neck and said: “I just want you so badly.”
He groaned and slipped his penis into me. I bit my bottom lip as he thrust backwards and forwards, without stopping him or telling him that actually, things were not okay because I had shagged someone else. Who had a girlfriend of his own.
There was no way that tonight would be the night I orgasmed—I could barely feel any moisture in my vagina. It was so dry it actually kind of hurt. I winced. I had to bear the pain; it was my just deserts.
I lay there wondering when the hell my life had stopped being an endless rerun of PG cartoons and turned into this X-rated mess. I was having sex with my boyfriend, when I’d had another man’s penis in me less than a week ago, and I had no intention of ever telling him.
I was worse than Sergio.
• • •
32
“Morning, lovebirds!”
I groaned and rubbed my eyes. There was a bright white haze in front of me, but as my eyes adjusted to the light, it slowly turned into a smiling Linda wearing a white summer dress. I was about to sink back into the pillow when I remembered that this was my boyfriend’s mother.
I pulled myself up and ran a hand through my hair. “Hi, Linda.” I yawned. “What time is it?”
“Just gone ten a.m. Holly’s just showering but I thought you’d like to go in next. I’m taking everyone out to have breakfast in the sun.”
“Oh, amazing. We’ll see you downstairs.”
“Good luck getting Nick up—he hates the mornings.”
I smiled brightly as she left the room. Nick could sleep in, but if I wanted to beat Holly in the future-daughter-in-law scales, I had to up my game.
• • •
I stood in the hallway seriously regretting my packing choices. It turned out that November weather in the Isle of Wight was not the Arctic rainy winter I had been expecting. Linda was in a summer dress, the men were in shorts and Holly was wearing very cool dungarees just like the ones I’d spent fifty pounds on last month and never worn because it wasn’t warm enough.
I shifted uncomfortably in my jeans, plain black long-sleeved top and Converse. Compared to the others, I looked like I was either allergic to the sun or going through a serious goth phase. The worst part was that these were the summeriest—and nicest—clothes I’d brought with me. So much for not trying to look like a London princess; now I just looked like I was born without any dress sense.
“All ready, Ellie?” said Linda, looking anxiously at my lumpy black torso. “Won’t you be too warm in that top?”
“It’s all I brought with me.” I blushed. “It was kind of cold in London.”
“Oh dear,” she said. “Well, you can always borrow something of Holly’s?”
I looked at Holly’s size four body and grumpy face. “NO,” I practically shouted. “Um, I’m like . . . very cold-blooded so I get cold really easily. I’ll probably be the perfect temperature in this.”
“Okay,” she said doubtfully. “Let’s go then.”
We all traipsed out of the house into the blaring sunlight. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that things could be worse; I could have only brought my wellies and forgotten the Converse.
“So what do you think of the Isle, Ellie?” asked Chris. “It’s your first time here, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it’s lovely. Very, um, warm. And it’s nice to breathe the sea air.”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I love the sea. It’s also pretty green though. Hey, you know what? We should go to the garlic farm. I’ve heard you can get garlic beer.”
“There’s a . . . garlic farm?”
“Oh God, the garlic farm,” groaned Holly. “I grew up in Portsmouth so we had to go for pretty much every school trip. I know it like the back of my hand. We don’t have to go, do we?” She pouted at Chris.
“I want to try the garlic beer. Shall we go after lunch?”
Mike nodded ambivalently. “If you think it’s worth it.”
“That’ll be nice,” said Linda. “We can buy some to take home. It just isn’t the same in NZ. I really miss England when it comes to the food and herbs. Do you know what I mean, Ellie?”
“What, me?” I asked in alarm. I had no idea what she meant; the only herbs I’d ever seen were in little glass bottles in Sainsbury’s. And I’d never been to NZ—how was I meant to know what the cuisine was like?
“Mum just misses British food,” explained Nick, coming up behind me. “So, what pub are we going to?”
“Just the one round the corner,” said Holly mid-puff on her e-cig. “They’ve redone it so it has this huge terrace. It’s perfect for this weather.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait to get the pints in,” said Chris. “Let’s have a big one tonight. I haven’t got on the drink properly for a long time.”
“We’ll show you a bit of the Isle of Wight nightlife, Ellie.” Nick grinned.
“It’s going to terrify the poor girl,” said Holly.
“I’m pretty sure it won’t,” I replied. “I’ve survived Tiger Tiger on a student night, so I reckon I can survive anything.”
“Isn’t that up in Piccadilly?” asked Nick. “I think my colleagues go there sometimes.”
“Are they sex pests? ’Cos it’s a full-on meat market there. After a night there, I’m sure I can handle anything you’ve got going on down here.”
“Yeah?” said Holly. “Can’t wait to see it. Oh, just one thing, everyone dresses to impress so you might want to ditch the thermals.”
I rolled my eyes at her back and followed the group into a nearby pub. There were a bunch of tables in the shade and one straight in the sun. I resigned myself to an afternoon of serious sweat patches as Holly led the group straight to the sunny table, and thanked God that at least black hid sweat stains.
“This is nice, isn’t it,” said Linda. “We can get some cold drinks, some good British pub grub and get to know each other better. Ellie, welcome to the family.”
Family? I smiled faintly and prayed it would rain.
“So what do you do, Ellie?” asked Chris, as he put his arm around Holly. I glanced at Nick and he grinned supportively.
“Ellie works for the London Mag, which is this really cool online magazine,” he said. “She has her own column too.”
“Really? How exciting,” cried Linda.
“Yeah, it’s cool, I guess. But it’s still just unpaid, so it’s not that big a deal.”
“I’m going to Google you,” announced Holly.
I sat up in alarm. “What? No! Don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Um, because they’re, um, kind of private?”
“Nah, don’t look them up, Holly. I don’t know if us lads could deal with it—Ellie said they’re pretty detailed. All about periods and stuff I really don’t want to know about,” said Nick.
I shot him a look of gratitude. “Yeah, exactly. Really not lunchtime appropriate. The whole column is called ‘NSFW,’ but it’s really not safe for any social occasion.”
“En es ef what?” asked Linda.
“Not safe for work.” Holly grinned. “It means Ellie’s written a sex column.”
“What?!” I shrieked. “No, no, I haven’t.” Oh God. I was fucked. There was no way she wouldn’t Google it now. This
weekend was going from bad to worse.
“It’s about sex?” asked Nick. “I thought you just wrote about, like, periods and feminism or something. Fuck—am I in it?!”
Oh God.
I looked down at my hands with their chipped nail polish. Maybe if I ignored this whole situation it would just go away?
It didn’t.
“No, of course you’re not,” I finally said, looking up at the table, feeling my cheeks burn. “Can we, um, please not talk about this? Please?”
“Oh bless the poor girl, you’re all embarrassing her,” cried Linda. I shot her a grateful smile and went back to staring at my hands. “So, boys, when are you both coming back home for a visit? Magda and Cassandra miss you.”
“Dogs,” said Mike. “Not their other girlfriends, don’t worry, Ellie.”
I tried to smile at him but couldn’t bring myself to engage in any banter. All I wanted to do was finish this breakfast, get the garlic farm over and done with, and go to sleep in a very, very cold room. Preferably somewhere very far away from the Isle of Wight.
• • •
Chris parked the van up next to a tractor and we all got out. There was a small brick cottage in the middle of lots and lots of muddy fields. This was the famous garlic farm.
“So, um, where’s the garlic?” I asked.
“In the ground?” said Holly.
“Oh, right, obviously.” I laughed. I’d imagined tall fields of greenery but I was clearly pretty far off the mark.
“This is literally all there is,” she said. “I have no idea why we’re even here.”
“For the beer,” cried Chris. “Who’s keen to go straight to the restaurant?”
“Oh, why don’t we go for a stroll first?” suggested Linda. “I’m keen to walk off that pie I just had.”
“We can get the tractor,” said Holly. “They do tours for like two pounds each.”
“Two pounds? I reckon we walk,” said Mike.
I suppressed a sigh. I would definitely have preferred to sit in a tractor than walk around a bunch of muddy fields.
Not That Easy Page 24