by Isobel Hart
I played for another hour, and they seemed to like it. Alcohol was flowing, and people began to couple off and disappear until there were only a few of us left around the fire. Emily had been one of the first to vanish with Jamie.
Hardy had loitered on the edge of the group when he finally reappeared. I could feel him watching me as I sang, his eyes burning into me every time Charles reached out to brush my arm or move my hair from in front of my face. Eventually he turned and walked back into the house.
Charles had been drinking, heavily, judging by the increasing number of bottles around his feet. His attentions increased, becoming more and more intrusive until at one point he leaned over and tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away. “Delilah, you have to know what I think of you,” he’d slurred. “You’re so fucking beautiful. I want you.” I was embarrassed by the onslaught as others laughed at his drunken attempts to woo me.
“You’re a good friend,” I began.
“Ouch, burned!” one of the guys still left said, laughing. “You’ve been friend-zoned, Taylor.” Charles looked pissed at the rebuff. I stood up and got myself another drink, pretending the smoke from the fire meant I needed to sit in another chair, further away from Charles. His face darkened even more.
When Clarissa reappeared Charles made a big show of inviting her onto his lap. She grinned like a Cheshire cat, throwing smug smiles in my direction. I tried hard not to watch them, not that I really cared. She began whispering in his ear, and I saw him smile at something she said. It was lopsided, strengthening my suspicion he was drunk, then she grabbed his hand and tried to pull him from the chair. He shook his head, reluctant at first as his gaze flickered over towards me, but I quickly looked away. Shortly after he stood up and pulled Clarissa with him, the pair of them giggling as they stumbled towards the house. By that point I’d had enough. I dried up mid-song, giving some excuse about my throat being sore to what remained of my audience, then packed up my guitar. I knew what they’d think – that I was jealous – but I really didn’t care that Charles and Clarissa were together. I’d just had enough of the lot of them. I wanted to go home.
I made my way back into the house and up the stairs, and then pushed the door to our room open. The sight that greeted me took a few seconds to comprehend. Then the sounds they were both making gave them away. I stood there, frozen for a moment as my brain tried to make sense of the tangle of limbs, feeling both embarrassed to be watching and aroused at the same time. It took a minute or two, but once my senses had returned, I quickly closed the door (relieved not to have been seen) and retreated down the hallway.
Two bedrooms and unknown fornicating couples later, I was irritated and wondering where the hell I was going to sleep. I’d decided to find a sofa to sleep on and was about to enter what I thought was a lounge when I heard laughter and a corresponding groan from behind the door. Even given what I’d already seen, I wasn’t prepared for what I found. Heart thumping, I peered around the edge of the door into a dark room, lit only by candles, where numerous men lounged around the edges. My eyes were drawn to the figures in the middle of the room; Clarissa was on her knees in front of Charles, who had hold of her hair while she sucked him off. There was no doubt from the appreciative sounds she was making that she was enjoying herself. I’d never imagined myself a prude, but the thought of doing that while others watched shocked me. It seemed I was in the minority, though, as the audience murmured appreciatively. Another guy stood up and moved behind Clarissa, unbuttoning his fly as he went, and I’d had enough. I turned and ran towards the front door, my guitar bumping my shins in my haste.
“Delilah?” a voice called. It was Hardy. Of course, it had to be Hardy, I thought. “Delilah? What’s wrong? I thought you’d gone to bed. Why are you leaving? Did someone hurt you?” I paused and allowed him to catch up with me, knowing he wouldn’t just let the matter drop. “Jesus, what’s wrong? What did Charles do?” he asked when he drew level with me. He was so concerned, so sweet, it just made me want to cry.
“It’s nothing,” I began, trying not to sob. “I need to go home, but I left my phone in my room and Emily’s in there with someone... There’s nowhere to sleep… I’m being silly…” I trailed off.
“It’s too late to bother your mum,” he said, reaching for my hand. “Come with me.” He looked around at the empty hallway, but there was no one to see us. He led me up the stairs, and I followed him until he opened the door of a large double bedroom. It was obviously his. I paused at the doorway. “Delilah, come in. You need to tell me what happened, and you don’t need to do it with an audience,” he said, looking over my shoulder. A guy was now gawping at us from the bottom of the stairs. I nodded and followed him in. Once he closed the door he led me over to the bed, sat me down and poured me a glass of water from a jug on his bedside table. He handed it to me, and I took a long drink. “Okay,” he said once I was calm, “tell me what happened.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you,” I said, trying to stand. “I’m being silly… pathetic, really.”
“Start again, Delilah. I want to know who upset you.”
“Charles. I saw him with Clarissa… they were…” I was too embarrassed to say it. “He came on to me, but I said no, so he made a play for Clarissa.” I wondered if Hardy would be upset about that, but he didn’t seem at all bothered, so I carried on. “I was trying to find somewhere to sleep after I found Emily and her ‘friend’ in our room. I heard a noise in the lounge, but when I went in there they were there. She was on her knees… there were others watching.” I couldn’t hide the shock in my voice.
“I can imagine,” Hardy growled. “He’s a fool. A drunk fool. You’re well out of it. You’re too good for him. Seriously, Delilah, any man you choose to be with better know how lucky he is. There’s no nice way to say this, and believe me, I love the guy like he’s my brother most the time, but when Charles gets drunk he behaves like a whore. So does Clarissa. They have very few boundaries. Frankly they’re made for each other until they get their shit together. In the meantime they can’t do relationships. At least not where they don’t continually hurt the person they’re supposed to be with. They’re toxic, the pair of them. I needed to get away from her… you just helped me to see it,” he said as he stroked my face.
“They were doing it in public,” I said again, shocked. “You don’t seem surprised,” I finally realised when he said nothing.
“That’s the way this crowd rolls. Very few boundaries. It’s why I didn’t want you near the place, couldn’t stand the thought of you getting sucked in. I know what Charles is like… he can be very persuasive. More than one girl’s woken up the next morning regretting what she let him talk her into the night before. He never oversteps the line… it’s always consensual… just…”
“Have you…?” I asked, shocked. He looked away, embarrassed, so I didn’t ask any more.
I was so tired and confused. I allowed Hardy to pull me against his chest. He smelt good – familiar. Like the bonfire, with an undertone of manliness.
“I wanted to speak to you earlier,” he said, his voice rumbling within his chest, “away from the others. Jesus, you nearly killed me with those songs. Your voice is so fucking incredible now. Even better than before. I physically hurt when you sang about how hard it’s been for you growing up. I want to kill the kids who made you feel like that.”
“It’s okay now,” I assured him.
“No, it’s fucking not.” I pulled away and looked at him, surprised by his anger, his fists clenched by his sides. It was the only time he’d reminded me of his father.
“Hardy, calm down,” I told him as I reached a hand out. He stilled. “I’m okay… really,” I assured him again. “It’s getting better. School is bad for lots of kids. We cope, and then we leave and get on with the rest of our lives. You aren’t responsible for me.”
“I feel like I am,” he replied, his eyes searching my face. “I feel like I’m meant to be. I know it sounds mad… I know you hardl
y know me, but I want to be. Ever since that summer, despite how young we both were, I always knew I’d see you again. I knew I’d felt a connection, I just wasn’t old enough to understand it at the time. But I never, ever forgot about you. I always planned to come and see you.”
“You were the best friend I’ve ever had,” I told him.
“I want to be again.” He leaned towards me and raised a hand to cup my face, his thumb moving to trace my lips. My eyes closed as a shiver ran through me. “Jesus, Delilah, you’re so perfect. You’re too good for me… too good for anyone. I wish you were older...” His voice trailed off.
“I’m old enough,” I assured him, wanting something without really knowing what.
“Not yet, but soon. When I come for you, that will be it. You’ll be mine, and we’ll be together. But until then, until I can come for you, I need you to wait for me. Will you do that?” I hesitated, not knowing how I was supposed to answer. It was too much too soon. He rushed on, sensing my hesitation. “I know it’s a lot to ask. I know we haven’t had much time together. Hell, you hardly know me. But I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you. In three years you’ll be nineteen, and I’ll have my degree and my trust fund. Then we can do what we want, go where we want. He won’t be able to stop me.” I knew he was talking about his father. But three years, I agonised internally. So long. I didn’t know if I could wait that long.
“I don’t know,” I began, “what do you mean by wait for you?”
“Just don’t fall in love with anyone else. Give me a chance first.”
I thought about what he’d said, while he watched me, and finally nodded. Somehow, in my heart, I already knew I didn’t want anyone else the way I wanted him, and it was hard to imagine I ever would. Now I’d seen him again I realised that even all those years ago, as an eight-year-old girl, I’d loved this boy. “Thank you,” he said, releasing a long breath I hadn’t realised he’d been holding. Then he lowered his head and kissed me. It was my first proper kiss, and the explosion of sensations took me by surprise. I didn’t want it to stop… ever.
When he finally pulled away we were both breathless and I could feel his arousal. He stood up as I watched nervously. Then he reached towards me. Heart in my mouth, I allowed him to remove my jacket and pull my dress over my head, so I was left wearing just my knickers and bra. Then he slipped off his jeans and t-shirt, revealing a sculpted torso that was hard to look away from. He smiled at me. “Time for sleep, beautiful,” he said, climbing onto the bed beside me. I was nervous for a moment, wondering if I was ready for this, but all he did was pull me against him and cover us both with the duvet before reaching over and turning off the light. “Goodnight, Delilah,” he whispered.
“Goodnight, Hardy,” I replied, feeling safe and warm. I rested my head on his chest while he wrapped his arms around me and held me close. My breathing slowed as I relaxed, and all the while he did nothing but hold me, stroking my hair, his breath warm as I was swallowed into sleep.
*
Shouting woke me early the next morning. I sat up, confused about where I was for a moment, only to find the sleeping form of Hardy Somerville beside me. He opened one sleepy eye and smiled. ”Morning, gorgeous.” He grinned. “You look just as beautiful when you wake up. That’s crazy.” I smiled but didn’t get a chance to respond because at that moment the door opened with a crash. Hardy was out the bed in a second as a raging Charles stormed in and bellowed, “You fucking fucker,” as soon as he saw me in Hardy’s bed.
“What the hell, man?” Hardy replied. “Calm yourself down.” Charles was right up in Hardy’s face, as Hardy held his hands up to placate him.
“Did you fuck her? Fuck! You bastard, you knew I wanted her.” I didn’t know what to do, so I just held the duvet up to my neck.
“You’re frightening her,” Hardy said as he glanced back at me. “Calm yourself down.”
Charles’ face twisted in anger. “Nice job,” he said, doing a slow hand clap. “I have to say, I thought I was a shoo-in to get there first, but you snuck in under the rope, you little snake. Was she good? Was she tight? I bet she was amazing.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Hardy said, growing angry now.
“Oh, she was that good, was she?” Charles laughed. “I wouldn’t mind a turn…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Hardy swung his fist straight into Charles’ jaw.
“Fuck,” Charles swore in the aftermath, clasping his chin. “I think you broke my fucking jaw, you bastard,” he mumbled through clenched teeth.
“I’ll do more than break your jaw if you keep talking about her like that,” Hardy promised. I’d had enough. This was way out of control.
“He didn’t ‘fuck’ me,” I said loudly, my tone flat. “But if he had, it would have been none of your business.” Charles’ attention immediately switched to me. “I guess I’m glad I didn’t take you up on your offer last night, Charles. I’m not into public displays of affection. Fortunately for you, Clarissa seemed less concerned.”
If Charles was shocked by my words, it was only for a second. Then he said; “I was imagining it was you the whole time.” He leered at me, and I put a hand on Hardy’s arm to stop him punching Charles again as he lunged forward.
“I saw you in the lounge with her,” I continued. “I guess I didn’t realise that was the way you swung. I’m not really down with the whole group sex thing. So now, if you don’t mind, I want to get dressed and call someone to come and get me out of here.”
“You don’t need to do that. I can take you,” Hardy said immediately.
“Have you and him got a thing going on?” Charles asked.
“That has nothing to do with you, Charles Taylor. In fact nothing about me has anything to do with you anymore.” I had no idea where I had discovered this strength from.
“Delilah,” he started to say.
“No, Charles, I don’t want to hear it right now. Just get out.” He looked at me, and then at Hardy, who was still standing there in his briefs.
“I have to give it to you, Hardy, you played a blinder this time.” Then he left the room.
“I’m proud of you,” Hardy said as he hugged me.
“I’m proud of me too,” I said, galvanising myself into action. I pulled on my dress. “Do you think there’ll be a problem over you punching him?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. First things first, let’s concentrate on getting you home.”
*
Mama had been shocked after I told her about the party when she’d got home from work that evening. She’d been relieved after hearing my own minor part in it all, but surprised when I told her about Hardy’s presence there. She’d been less surprised when I’d mentioned what Emily had spent her time doing – leaving out some of the specifics from the bedroom. I’d had only a brief text from Emily, who’d elected to stay at the party with Jamie a little longer when Hardy and I went to find her to let her know I was going home. The text had told me she’d arrived home safely, but that was all.
“That girl’s in a hurry to grow up,” was all Mama said after I gave her the sanitised version. “I’m just glad Hardy was there to look after you. It sounds like it was a bit full on for a first party.” I’d agreed, thinking she didn’t know the half of it.
Hardy had said little when he’d dropped me home, leaving me no idea when or if I’d see him again. So when there was a knock on the door the following morning, after Mama had left for work, I was surprised. Hardy stood there looking anxious. I invited him in, stepping back to allow him access, and my heart sped up just at the sight of him. I wished I’d made more effort that morning instead of throwing on my old jeans and a t-shirt. He ducked his head and stepped into the little room. For a moment he just stood there as I shifted uncomfortably, uncertain what I was meant to do next. Then he moved, pulling me into his arms, enfolding me. I heard myself sigh with contentment. I thought it couldn’t get any better until he kissed me. It was hungry and demanding, and I moaned a little as he
pressed against me, unable to think about anything other than how much my body yearned for him… how this didn’t feel like enough. My hands slid up under his shirt and he groaned.
“Stop,” he said, pulling away, his breathing laboured. “Not yet… it’s too soon. For you, I mean. I don’t want to rush this. I want to wait until we’re sure it’s right. We have plenty of time.” I couldn’t deny I was disappointed, but at least he wasn’t saying never. He pressed his forehead against mine and rested it there for a moment. “Delilah,” he breathed.
“I’m glad you came,” I said, shy now that the passion between us had receded.
“I couldn’t stay away,” he admitted.
“Good. I’m glad you didn’t.” I smiled. When he didn’t return it, I knew something was wrong. “What? What is it?”
“I need to tell you something…” Then he confirmed my worst fears. “I have to go away.” I felt a physical pain in my chest.
“Why? Why now?”
“Dad found out about the fight with Charles. His parents complained. Turns out Charles has a fractured and dislocated jaw – they weren’t impressed. He needs to have surgery. So they kicked me out of his place, and his parents rang my dad. They were pissed because they had to cut their summer holiday short and felt the need to take it out on someone. Dad blew his top and wanted to know why I’d hit Charles. I didn’t want to tell him about you, but I had no choice… nothing else made sense. Now he’s on the rampage insisting I go to California. He says I’ve got to get my degree there instead of Cambridge, and that I’m not to come anywhere near this place, or you, until I’ve graduated, or he’ll disinherit me.” He looked devastated, and I could only imagine I looked the same. I was gutted by his words, images of happy coupledom disappearing over the horizon. I’d hoped to see more of him now I’d finally found him again, not live apart for another three years.