Page 55 of You, As You Are

His chest rumbled an answer.

Maisie was too warm inside. Vera’s freezer called to her to open the door and press herself up against it.

She noted the emptiness of the glass in Iain’s hand and asked, “Can I get you another drink?” Partly for an excuse to leave the room to someplace cooler.

“Something soft,diolch.”

“Tonic without gin?”

“That’ll do.”

She led him into the kitchen that’d been abandoned for the dance floor, a couple of men taking a break outside the window.

“I don’t know how anyone can drink it straight,” Maisie said, grabbing another can of tonic water from the box in the fridge, “butNainapparently forgot to buy lemonade.” She picked a fresh glass from the few she’d managed to rinse and poured.

Iain glanced at the wooden clock on the wall. “I can stay another half an hour, then I need to go back for Ted.”

“I should go soon, too. Those lot might not have to work tomorrow, but we do.” Maisie handed Iain the fizzing glass, the bitter scent of quinine strengthening with everypop.

“I’m going to walk you home, and it’ll make things obvious,” he said.

“What things?”

Iain levelled her with a look like she’d told a joke that landed wrong, staring at her for long enough that she remembered, yet again, how none of this was real.

“Oh.Riiiight.”

Maisie swivelled back to the fridge to get herself a can before she overheated in this dress. The house was stuffy, windows fogged up from all of the dancing in the other room, and the great big elephant between the lines of this conversation didn’t help either.

She took another highball from the drying rack and cracked open the cold can, leaning her stomach into the counter.

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

Her hand slipped as she poured, eyes bulging.

What kind of question was that? One that felt like foreplay to a night her body thought would end in that way. But Iain didn’t mean it like that … right?

Maisie pulled herself together before she spilled any more of the sticky liquid.

“What kind of touching?” The race of her pulse made her voice uneven, but at least Iain couldn’t see the crimson on her face.

“Nothing I wouldn’t do on a first date,” he answered.

“Your first dates sound pretty boring, then.” The jibe slipped out of her before Maisie could think better of it.

Clicks on the tiles said Iain stepped in closer behind her, so close that the air became thicker – difficult to breathe. His glass clinked on the counter as his arms straightened on either side of her.

“Do I have your permission or not?” he asked. The heat of his voice skimming along her jaw made the tiny hairs on the back of Maisie’s neck rise.

Cold condensation rolled down her palm.

She gulped. “Yes.”

She was so touch-starved that he could do whatever he liked and she wouldn’t complain. She couldn’t count how many times she’d cried herself to sleep at night because she just wished to be held. To have arms around her holding her tight. To feel someone’s touch that wasn’t her own.

It was almost a curse to be so alone but to want someone so desperately.

“Good.” Iain picked up his drink. “I’ll see you in there. You look like you need a moment.”

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