Page 84 of Pride and Privilege

He looked up. Met Poppy’s eyes. Saw a question there, perhaps a plea. Or maybe that’s what he wanted to see. An excuse to stand up, move, do anything else than what he was currently doing, restlessness crawling beneath his skin, tension threatening to clutch his chest, steal his breath. He begged tiredness to his aunt and excused them from the evening. If she wondered why these two work friends went up to bed at the same time, she said nothing. Roscoe didn’t think about it either.

They walked up the creaking staircase with Roscoe telling Poppy she could have a bath, read a book. He could bring her a glass of wine. He told her they could do whatever she wanted—explore the library rather than go to bed? Walk out and look at the stars…?

At her bedroom door, she took hold of his hand and led him into the room.

She closed the door behind him. Let go of his hand and crossed to the bed, turned on the side lamp there. She came back and switched off the overhead lamp. Then paused. She looked at him. Her arms were folded while he stood still, trying to pretend his heart wasn’t racing and his head wasn’t full of bare skin and hot mouths.

She stepped closer. “Would you kiss me if I asked you to?”

Heat clawed up his neck, tightened his insides. “Yes.”

She didn’t ask. But she stepped even closer, until they were inches apart. She reached up, slid her hand into the hair at the back of his head and pulled his mouth down to meet hers.

They were only gentle for a moment, then he was kissing her like he could climb inside her, like he could meld them skin toskin. He licked the inside of her mouth, tugged and bit her lower lip, pulled her head back and kissed her throat, as though he could bite her, claim her that way, just make the whole world and its rules fuck off because she was his and he was hers and things couldn’t possibly go wrong between them. He wouldn’t ever leave her homeless, defenceless, on the street. His mouth returned to hers, and he tasted salt on her lips. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and he was surprised to find they weren’t his, because they were only one breath away.

“Hey, hey…” He brushed them from her cheeks with his thumbs, forehead against hers, unwilling to give any space between them. “What’s wrong?”

Her voice had a crack in it. “If I asked you to sleep with me, would you?”

He drew in a breath, closed his eyes. “Poppy…”

“I can’t do this anymore.” The words broke from her, torn and wretched. She stepped back, and his heart knifed at his ribs.

“I can’t do this half and half thing,” she said. “Whatever line you’re worried about crossing, it’s too late, I’ve crossed it. We’ve both crossed it.”

“Poppy, I can’t… I don’t know how… I’m such a mess right now. I’m having panic attacks every day. I’m scared of everything…”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I want to be there for you. I want to help, but you won’t let me in. You keep talking about giving me things—that you can give but not take. But you’re not giving meyou, are you? You’re always holding yourself back.”

“No—”

“Because I’m vulnerable. Dependent. Powerless. That’s how you see me, isn’t it? So much lesser than you. Like I’m the maid in some old fucking novel.”

“Not lesser, Poppy. Please—”

“Then what?”

“Because I’m scared. I’m scared of fucking this up, of what happens if it goes wrong…”

“This. Here, now. This is you fucking it up, Roscoe. It’s happening right now.”

He closed his eyes, hand covering them. His thoughts were painful, swirling things, all of them fucking useless. How, how…? He couldn’t see… Nothing but a wall of black emotion closing his throat. But please, please, God, don’t—

“I’m not good enough, am I?” she continued. “You can’t introduce me to your family. If we did this, it would only ever be some illicit work affair. Just another guy fucking his secretary. Sordid and sleazy, and that’s not good enough for the Golden Boy. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“No! It’s nothing to do with that.”

“Then what?”

“Poppy… Please… You came to my flat once and nearly slept with me when you didn’t want to, and how can I…? It’s in the back of my head every time we… Whenever I…” He shook his head. “How can I risk your home, your job, knowing that awful flat is out there waiting for you? Or somewhere worse? I’ve already messed up your life, interfered, and I don’t know how I can be with you without fucking things up even more. There are rumours at work already and—”

“I can look after myself.”

He didn’t know how to answer. It wasn’t that straightforward.

“You don’t believe me, do you? Maybe I wouldn’t be able to live life to your standard, but I’m perfectly capable of managing by myself. I’ve done it for years.”

“You fainted in my office…” he said wretchedly, unable to shake the memory of it.

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