Sixteen
I stand dolefully on the top step, watching the black Audi as it halts at the mouth of the driveway, the brake lights winking for a moment, before it turns left and within a second, it’s gone with a roar of the powerful engine. My shoulders slump as I turn towards the door. I’d really been looking forward to tonight.
All your plans were in your own head, moron. It’s not like he’s made a date and then broke it. He never promised that he was spending the evening with you.
I’m aware of that. But I’d become complacent and had expected it. I’ve seen the look in his eyes all day, the hunger, the thread of dark sensuality that made me shiver every time I saw it. The promise of the most unbelievable sex when he finally gets around to it.
I need to be patient. So far, I’ve had a great day. Well, most of it, I was worried this morning when he didn’t get in touch and I suddenly remember that he’d smashed his phone. I wonder how that happened? I imagine him and his father, eyeball to eyeball and nose to nose, screaming in each other’s faces and Carter hurling his phone at the wall. That’s probably rubbish, he’s no doubt dropped the thing, but either way, he’s evidently got a new one and kept his number.
I push my key into the door, leaving my Mini outside the garage. Jus and Ellen aren’t home yet – Ellen will have to pick Jared up from her mum’s before she lands but Justin will put my car away, as he does every night. I glance at my own watch, nearly five. The evening in front of me yawns boringly and uninvitingly. I don’t know what to do with myself. I know what I want to be doing, but I’m shit out of luck.
Heading into the kitchen, I open the fridge and take out the orange juice. My eyes slide to the wine, but I’m not starting that caper. Wine on a school night, when I’m feeling at a low ebb anyway due to the absence of Mr Jackson is not a good idea. I pull down a highball and fill it, drinking deeply.
I need something to eat. My appetite is nowhere to be seen though and I open the fridge to replace the orange juice, peering into it disinterestedly. Nothing appeals. I feel a frisson of anxiety snake darkly down my spine when I recall Ellen telling me about her non-existent appetite when she fell headlong for Justin. That she couldn’t eat or sleep, do her job or think about anything but him.
I’m seriously fucked. Whether I admit it to myself or not, I know in my heart that I’ve fallen in love with Carter Jackson. Despite having nothing whatsoever to measure these feelings against, their power, their intensity have flattened me and I’m his puppet, dangling helplessly from one frayed string. He owns me, body and soul, even though he hasn’t actually had my body yet, at least not in the biblical sense. I shrug, still staring vacantly into the fridge. Whether I fuck him or not, it’s not going to make a blind bit of difference to how I feel. I’m bound and there’s no way out for me.
I shut the door irritably, before pulling it open again. I can’t go without food, I’m being pathetic. Two years ago, I’d have eaten anything vaguely edible, nasty memories of rummaging around in rancid industrial wheelie bins at the backs of restaurants, stuffing anything I could find into my cramping stomach. And now, here I am, more food in front of me than I could eat in a week and I’m turning my nose up.
Taking bread from the wooden bin and loading my arms with ham, cheese, salad and mayonnaise, I make myself a sandwich and sit and eat it at the island. Ellen will no doubt cook something later on and the sandwich I’m eating now will ruin my appetite but if I’m honest, I want to spend tonight upstairs in my attic.
That’s rare for me, but I have naughty plans and I can’t sit squirming on the sofa, staring at my phone with a red face in front of El and Justin. I’d die.
I put my empty plate in the dishwasher and rinse the glass just as the front door opens and I hear Jared’s excited screech. Smiling, I turn to the door as they come barrelling through it, Justin laughing over his shoulder at Ellen, Jared perched on his hip.
‘Perrrrrr!’ the little boy cries delightedly when he sees me. He can’t manage Pearl but it’s close enough and he reaches out his arms for me. I take him, kissing his damp, sweet smelling cheek and Justin grins at me as he chucks his keys and wallet onto the island, ruffling my hair.
‘Have a good time?’ he asks, hiking a brow and I see Ellen wink at me over his shoulder. I blush again.
‘Awesome, Jus – yeah. Carter can ride and we went out for half an hour, had a flat out gallop. Pure adrenaline.’ Jared wriggles in my arms now and I put him down, where he trundles over to the play area at in the corner of the kitchen.
Ellen raises her eyebrows at me as she dumps Jared’s bags on the table. ‘Bet that was fun – the two of you going hell for leather in the sunshine!’
The memory throbs and I smile. Yeah, it really was. It ranked right up there. I’m starting to collect these precious Carter memories. The look in his eyes as they slide shut at a deep kiss, his sexy dimple when he really laughs, the way he brushes his soft hair away from his forehead. They keep me going, sustain me during the periods that he’s away from me and pump up the need in me to see him again.
‘You joining us for dinner?’ Ellen asks and I shake my head.
‘Thanks El, but I’ve just had a sandwich. I was starving when I got in.’ A fib, but then she can probably guess that. ‘I’ll grab another snack later if I feel like it.’ She gives me a beady look.
‘You need to watch the eating, Pearl. Believe me love, it can be a slippery slope. Once you stop, it can be very difficult to start again properly and if you lose too much weight, you’ll begin to look ill,’ she says quietly. I know she’s right, I don’t have to take her word for it. I remember the Ellen I met when I ran to Daniel’s house that night. The gaunt, pale, shadowed-eyed Ellen, who couldn’t eat a damned thing through stress.
‘I will.’ I flash a smile. ‘I’m just going to have a slob night – I need to ring Gemma and text Aaron and I’ve not been on Facebook for ages,’ I say glibly. ‘I need a hot bath as well, I was sweating like a pig before.’
Oh, and I need to fuck Carter Jackson by text.
For a wild moment I picture the looks on both their faces if I’d actually blurted that out and Justin sweeps Jared from the floor, raising him up and blowing raspberries on his fat belly.
‘Where’s Carter tonight?’
I’m halfway across the kitchen, but I stop and turn when I hear him.
‘He’s been dragged into attending some industry award ceremony on behalf of his dad. Some charity thing, it’s at the Mercure.’
Justin nods. ‘Dan’s going,’ he says, which immediately makes me feel a hundred times better and I grin at him in relief. It wasn’t a crock of shit then. I really don’t know why I’m expecting him to lie to me, he hasn’t done so far, but I’m wary, holding my hands protectively around my fragile heart as best I can. Justin puts Jared on his shoulders and he grabs two handfuls of his dad’s bright blond hair.
‘Stott and Stuart are up for an award too, in respect of their overseas expansion,’ he elaborates and now I remember vaguely Justin talking about this a few weeks ago. I just hadn’t put two and two together, but I’m grateful to him for soothing my mind.
‘See you guys later,’ I say, with a wave and make my way up to my attic. I close the door behind me, turning and looking at it. The wood’s empty now, but I can picture Carter in front of it a few hours ago, his legs shaking and his mouth hanging open as I blew him off for the first time. I grin, looking at the time.
I’ve got a couple of hours, so I decide on a bath first. Setting it to run, I drizzle in some mango oil and strip off my sweaty riding clothes, stuffing them in the overflowing hamper. I must do some washing tomorrow.
Whilst the bath fills, I quickly update Facebook, reading and liking my friends’ new posts. As soon as Aaron sees I’m online, however, he pops up in WhatsApp.
Hey – you okay? Did you have a good time on Saturday?
I did, Aaron. But I don’t want to tell you why. You aren’t going to like it.
I keep it neut
ral. Yeah, it was great. Thanks for coming. Are you okay?
I pick up my phone and put it onto charge. I don’t want the battery running out halfway through… what? Driving Carter wild with words? Why the hell not? It’ll be much easier to be bolder in a text message, I’ve a feeling that I’ll be good at this. My iPad pings with a new message from Aaron.
So, what you up to tonight? Fancy going out for a quick drink?
Oh no. Despite me trying hard to emit all the correct signals to Aaron, he clearly isn’t taking them on board. What is it about exes that just don’t get the message, Toria floating unwelcomely into my mind again.
It occurs to me that I might be reading too much into his invitation to go for a beer tonight, but even if Carter wasn’t in the equation, I wouldn’t go. Not just the two of us. It’s not fair on him. Aaron needs to find someone capable of loving him back and that’s not me. I don’t fancy him. It’s not that he’s not pleasant looking, he is, if a bit nondescript, but he’s far from ugly. He’s just a nice, normal bloke and there’s a girl out there somewhere for him. He just needs to realise that it’s not me and find her.
I tap my chin restlessly. I need to shut him down, kindly but firmly. He means a lot to me as a friend and I don’t want to make him crash and burn. I sense through the tone of his two messages that he doesn’t know about Carter. Donna and Gemma do, but they’ve evidently had the sense not to fill Aaron in and I’m glad. It’s coming, sure it is, but I’ll cross that particular bridge when I get to it.
Thanks mate… emphasis on mate, here… but I’m still shattered, had an awful hangover yesterday and I’ve been riding this afternoon. Just going to have a hot bath and crash.
I send him a smiley faced emoji and a thumbs up. I hope he leaves it at that, and I suddenly shoot up from the bed in a panic, remembering the bloody bath. Luckily I have a wet-room, but it’s still a few inches from the top and I start the jets to mix the water before sliding gingerly into it. I hear my iPad ping with another message, but I know it’s Aaron and if I’m honest I’m not bonkers about reading it.
I lie back in the heat, the warmth relaxing my muscles, which I know will ache tomorrow after that mad gallop this afternoon. My inner thighs, certainly. I dunk a flannel and flop it over my face. Toria and Aaron collide together in my mind. We’ve both got baggage, although I know Toria is going to be far more of a threat than Aaron could ever be.
Why is she a threat? She’s no threat – he’s told you how he feels about her.
But he’s not told me how he feels about me, has he? I haven’t got a clue. Deep down, I know he feels something for me, I can see it written in his beautiful eyes, but expressions aren’t words. Something has been on the tip of his tongue too, more than once, but he just won’t spit it out.
Is it really over between him and Toria? It must be, if there was anything sinister going on, then why would he have taken the call in front of me? Unless this was deliberate, a tactic to throw me off the scent, confuse me?
I pull the hot flannel from my face in irritation, dunking my head under the scalding water, my thick hair floating like spun silk around my submerged face. I’m doing it again, overthinking and this is all too much too soon. My problem is, I’m benchmarking Carter against Justin and that isn’t fair. Justin is an anomaly in a lot of ways, but the speed in which he fell in love with Ellen was bordering on ridiculous. Me sitting here, waiting eagerly for the same thing to happen to me is completely unrealistic. Carter has just come out of a toxic relationship, I should think myself lucky he’s prepared to start anything with me so soon, given the circumstances.
I wash myself slowly, and shave everywhere. I know that means I need to scrub the bath out, but I don’t want to go and sit in the shower, I’m too warm and comfortable. I lie back, drifting again and when my eyes slide shut and my chin tips beneath the water, I sit up, pulling the plug and reaching for a warm towel.
Drying my hair and body and slipping into a pair of brushed cotton PJs, I make myself a cup of tea and wander into the bedroom, combing out my hair as I go. I put it up into a damp twist. I should dry it really, it’ll be like a pterodactyl’s nest in the morning but I really can’t be bothered. I need to speak to Gemma and then, hopefully, it’ll be dirty talk time with my hot new boyfriend. I suddenly can’t wait.
Sipping my tea, I sit crossed legged on the bed and pick up my iPad again. There’s three WhatsApp messages now and I wince, hoping they’re not all from Aaron. I’m shit out of luck, of course.
Well, if you don’t want to go out, I could come round and watch a film with you?
Pearl? Are you there?
Helloooo?
Fucking hell. He’s Teflon coated and has the skin of a Rhino. I chew my lip, wondering how I’m going to tackle this. Hopefully, as a last resort, when Aaron finds out about Carter he’ll get the message. I need to introduce Carter to my friends and do it soon, before these unrequited feelings that Aaron has for me become out of control.
I place the iPad back on the bedside cabinet. I’m not replying to his messages. Hopefully he’ll think I’ve gone to sleep and will leave me alone. I’m going to see him at The Guardian tomorrow and I need to tell him that I’ve met someone, so that when he meets Carter it won’t come as an almighty shock. It’s going to be hard for Aaron when he sees Carter’s looks, sadly, his own are light years away.
Looking at the time on my phone, I pull up Gemma’s number and connect a call. She answers in three rings.
‘Well, fuck me… finally!’ she drawls. ‘I was wondering when you were going to get around to telling me about that prime specimen of manhood that you bagged so seamlessly on Saturday night! How did you manage that in that awful gloomy nightclub?’
We chat and laugh for half an hour as I fill her in on everything that’s happened to me in the last few days. Well, nearly all of it, I don’t mention anything intimate and, thankfully, neither does she, although I get the feeling she wants to. It’s a conversation for a face to face, anyway, not over the phone.
‘Fancy a few drinks on Thursday night?’ I ask. ‘Donna mentioned it, it’d be good to have a proper catch-up?’
She agrees immediately and we arrange to meet in Heebies at six. I’ll tell Donna and Aaron tomorrow, that’s if I’m still speaking to him by then, that is.
Saying goodbye, I lean back against my fat pillows, curling my toes into the soft duvet cover. Who’s going to start this? Should I wait for him?
My nail finds its way into my mouth and I pull it out, sucking on my finger gently, which makes me smile. I know what I’d rather be sucking and, as the thoughts of what I did to Carter this afternoon fill my mind again, I feel a gentle twitch from between my legs, my heart skipping before starting to accelerate.
This is more like it! Why don’t you start the ball rolling?
Don’t suppose it’d hurt. He might be busy getting ready to go out, anyway and I throb again softly at the thought of him in a tuxedo and bow tie. What should I start with? Nice and tame, ask him how he is? Play it cool, tell him I’ve just had a bath… take it from there?
Yeah. Why not? But now I’m doing this, I’ve decided that I do want a drink after all. It’ll give me Dutch courage, take away some of my shyness and inhibitions. Leaving my phone on the bed, an open text message waiting for me to fill it, I slip downstairs and swipe a chilled bottle of rose and a glass. There’s no sign of the Walkers, but the tele is on in the lounge and I can hear them laughing through the half closed door.
I hurry back upstairs, shutting the attic door and plopping down on the bed. I fill a glass with cold pink wine and sip it gratefully. I don’t give a toss now that it’s a school night and I’m drinking alone. My mood has improved, I’m excited and the alcohol will give me the nerve to do this.
Downing half the glass, I place it next to the bottle and pick up my phone. The cursor on the empty space flashes at me, taunting me.
Coward, coward, coward.
I glare at the phone. If there’s one thing I’
m not, it’s a coward. I type the message and hit send immediately, before I have the chance to change my mind.
Do you know what I’m thinking about?
I swallow wine, waiting. The message is delivered and I feel a thrill when it’s read immediately, as if he’s been sitting staring at the damned thing. A reply is being typed and my heart’s in my mouth as I wait.
Is it the same thing that I’m thinking about?
I grin, my fingers flying over the keypad.
I’d have to know what you’re thinking about to answer that, Carter.
I pick up the wineglass and drain it, immediately reaching for the bottle. My subconscious gives me a cautioning stare.
Careful. Don’t get smashed in half an hour, you’ll throw up.
A whoop from my phone, and there he is.
You. That’s what I’m thinking about.
There’s a spreading warmth in my chest as my eyes skim the words and it’s not the wine. Me. He’s thinking about me.
I chew over how to reply. He’s been honest with me, I need to reciprocate but as I’m choosing the words, I see the pulsing dots. He’s typing something else, so I sit and wait, tapping my fingers together. I don’t have to wait long.
Y’know… looking into your beautiful eyes, stroking your soft skin, kissing your incredibly sexy mouth…
My breath has gone. If those words aren’t a declaration of love, then I don’t know what is. The emotion is bald, he’s obviously finding expressing his feelings far easier when he’s away from me and, as I read and re-read them again and again and again, the throb of warmth in my chest melts south, until it hits the apex of my thighs. I groan and clench them together. Christ. He’s turned me on so badly with just a few well-chosen words and I grind my teeth.
I need him. I need him here, now, not sitting like a beautiful stuffed dummy in a suit, around a table with a load of rich pricks. I also need to answer him, I’ve just been staring at his loving words, alone with my thoughts and my fingers fly over the keys, my breathing starting to labour.
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