Page 59 of Hot Girl Summer

I can’t bring myself to look April in the eye. Instead, my gaze meets Danny's, and we share a smirk. Dormant butterflies awake.

“Umm, anyway, I was going to get us all a drink.” I manage to tear my gaze away long enough to convince myself that I need a moment alone to process what has just happened, but really, I want to leave right now with Danny.

I want him in my bed, all night long until the sun comes up. I want to make him breakfast, and spend the entire day nursing hangovers, laughing and crying in equal measure at some ridiculously cheesy romantic comedy. I want to share funny and sad stories, and everything in between, and feast on our favourite foods. I want to make new memories.

The funny thing about alcohol is that it acts like a truth serum. Because the sad reality is that Danny still belongs to someone else, and even when that’s fully over, does he really want to jump into another relationship?

He halts me by the arm as I head towards the bar, and those long fingers wrapped around my skin are enough to send electricity shooting through my veins again.

“I’ll come with you,” he says.

Does he have any idea what he does to me?

Leading the way, I squeeze into a space at the front. It isn’t overly busy, but busy enough that our bodies are touching. Our forced proximity makes my skin tingle all over, and I’m brought back to the moments before.

In an attempt to free myself from sensory overload, I lean on the bar away from Danny, certain that if I stay put, I’ll explode, and I fear I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself.

Catching the attention of the bartender, I order a bottle of prosecco and four glasses. I notice Danny sneak a glance over his shoulder before his hand grazes mine, and it takes a moment for me to realise that he has claimed it.

Entwining our fingers, his thumb makes small circles on my knuckle. It’s a fairly normal, non-sexual thing to do, but I’m so turned on right now. How can one tiny, insignificant movement feel so good?

That small movement sends my imagination into overdrive, as I picture his hand pressed between my legs, his thumb making circles on my clit. Fire rushes to every part of me, and it’s as if that movement on my knuckle is a direct link to every nerve in my body that’s responsible for turning me on. Again, I’m dizzy with want. I am this close to guiding his hand underneath my dress and letting him feel just how much I want him. I would totally get arrested for indecent exposure for this guy.

The bartender claims Danny’s attention, snapping me out of my stupor. He continues to hold my hand until the drinks take precedence, and that signals the end of our physical contact for the night, with little more than stolen glances and wishful thinking until it’s time to leave. He doesn’t need to tell me that we have to be careful because of legalities. The fact that he’s still technically married is a grey area, and I like to live in black and white.

When the night ends, we make our way to the taxi rank and say goodbye. I know it’s for the best. A one-night stand with him will satisfy my cravings, but at the same time, I want to be more for him than that because—although I don’t like to admit it—he’s so much more than just another one-night stand to me.

A sinking feeling sits deep in my gut when we say goodbye, and when we leave in separate cabs, a DM chimes on my phone almost at once after the car door closes.

Danny: Monday.

Chapter Sixteen

Asunny,clear-skiedMondaymorning rolls around, and to say I’m looking forward to the day ahead more than usual is an understatement. This will definitely go down in Sophia history as one of the least Mondayest of Mondays I’ve experienced in my lifetime. I love my walk to work, but the thought of seeing Danny again puts an extra spring in my step as I try to contain my excitement. When I round the corner to the high street, my good mood is short-lived and I’m frozen by the woman before me.

Beautiful, flawless Belle. She suits her name perfectly. In reality, she looks every inch the goddess she is in her photos, and the little girl who’s hand she’s holding bears the same ethereal, sun-kissed skin and perfectly formed features with long, flowing, dark locks.

My throat tightens. By comparison, I’m a dollar store version of Belle. They stop outside a bookstore while I watch, frozen in awe and admiration, the same bookstore that’s only a few doors down from Ivy Rose Organics.

Once I snap back to reality, I glance at my watch. With four minutes to get to work, I know I don’t have a choice but to walk straight past them. Avoiding eye contact, I rush past, and as I do, I catch the heady scent of elegant florals and money, leaving a pleasant smell in my nose, and a vile, bitter taste in my mouth.

When I get in, I slam the door shut behind me without thinking. Lauren jolts, causing her mascara to smear. She turns around and waves the fibrous wand in the air.

“Do you mind?”

“Not really,” I say, heading straight past her towards the bathroom.

I don’t know how to feel, but all I know is I need to let my emotions run riot. Whether that means crying, screaming, or breaking something. Before I have a chance to plan my next move, Lauren stops me in my tracks.

“Okay, what is with the attitude? Talk to me.”

“Fine,” I say, perching on a stool by the makeup station. I hook my block heel onto the metal footrest, and as I swing myself sideways and glimpse my reflection, I’m reminded of all the ways I’m not Belle.

I take a deep breath, and start to reel off the story from the beginning, right from the first time I met Danny at Lilura, the wedding band confusion, and all the moments leading up to our kiss on Saturday night, right up to seeing Belle and the little girl a few moments ago.

Luckily, Mondays are quiet, and are usually reserved for filming content. The lack of customers allows me to be completely open and honest, and deal with my feelings in a healthy way instead of my usual feat of resorting to reckless behaviour.

“When Michael and I first met, he was technically married,” Lauren says.

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