Page 83 of You, As You Are

The ladies cornered themselves together on one sofa, leaving Iain to take the half beside Bash.Bash –what kind of name was that? A nickname, surely.

He set his sights on ordering a beer whilst the others picked apart the cocktail menu.

The minutes of conversation – most of which he sat by idly for – blended together. Iain gathered that Sienna was an upscale florist, Bash’s name was actuallySébastien,and his business partner was manning the fort of their interior design offices over in London. He noticed too how Sienna’s dark lips curled at the mention of that partner’s name before she wiped that expression away.

It didn’t take much convincing for the girls to persuade each other onto the small dance floor as the ragtime band played a more vibrant number, leaving Iain with the man who’d given him a protective eye for an hour. None of them asked any questions about how he and Maisie had met, so it didn’t take a genius to see they already knew about their agreement.

Iain watched her dance some kind of hop that was full of heart and laughter more than technique.

“How long have you known Maisie?” he asked Bash to break the ice, knowing full well the man had something on his mind he wanted to say.

“Just over eleven years.” Bash’s pale eyes didn’t stray from his girlfriend as others joined the floor. “She was Faye’s flatmate at university when I met her.” Iain tipped his head in acknowledgement, swiping back and forth at the condensation rolling down his glass. “We’re good friends. All of us – we have her back.”

Iain heard the warning amongst the sentiment. Though he didn’t need it. He wasn’t going to break her heart.

“Then she’s lucky to have you.”

Leather shifted, and in the corner of his eye Bash angled more towards him. He wasn’t intimidated in the least. Bigger, bulkier, and more formidable men than this one beside him brought him to his knees on the rugby field, and even then he didn’t go down without a fight.

“I wouldn’t be being a good friend if I didn’t ask you what your deal was,” Bash said, his voice firm yet hushed, as if the women he hid it from had any chance of hearing him when they were right next to the band.

“I expect so.”

“I’ve heard what’s happening.” So the planwascommon knowledge then. “You two have this fake dating thing going on, but I’m telling you now not to play any games with Maisie.”

Bash’s warning was aimed the wrong way when it wasMaisiewho’d started this‘thing’.Iain had seen the value in it for himself and just played along. But he respected the warning for what it was: reassurance thatsomeonewas looking out for her.

Meeting Bash’s eye, he said, “Maisie makes her own choices. She doesn’t need to be protected.”

“No. But you might if I hear that you’ve messed with her.” Bash speared him with a no-nonsense look. “Every time a man lets her down, we’ve all been there to pick up the pieces. I don’t really want to have to drive all the way to Wales – leaving my girlfriend – to do that. But I will if I have to.”

The sharp-edged sword wasn’t necessary. Iain wasn’t a boyfriend or lover to be given the best friend speech. Not to Maisie. Not to anyone.

“There’s no game,” he promised, and the intense scold in the other man’s eyes retreated an inch. “We have an agreement. One that benefits us both.”

“So long as we understand one another.” Taking his word for it, Bash reclined into the deep-red, studded leather like he had been when it wasn’t just the two of them.

Iain nodded with a sense as though he’d sealed his fate.

When he turned his eyes back to the tiny dance floor, Maisie barely danced more than a shuffle which looked painful to do in the only pair of blocky heels he’d ever seen her wear. Her gaze was riddled with uncertainty, focussed upon the two of them here on this sofa as if she’d tried to read their lips.

The band eventually ended their piece, earning applause, and transitioned into another that was cosier, like blues.

The grinning trio swished their way back to their table and grabbed at the drinks they’d left behind, all with indulgent,swept-off-their-feetsmiles, except for Maisie’s; Iain knew her well enough to tell which was her real and her put-on smile, the subtle difference in the brightness of her eyes. She watched him above the sugared rim of her mojito glass, and he had the urge to tell her that nothing had happened – ease whatever worrying thoughts were streaming through her mind.

“Why do you two look so serious?” Faye asked, sipping something icy and red through a straw.

“Iain’s been telling me about his work,” Bash answered, which confirmed Iain’s suspicion that all those warnings had been from the heart. Why lie otherwise?

“Really?” Maisie cut in, perplexed. She should know it was a lie – he hated talking about his job, and she knew it.

Iain shrugged and raised his beer to his lips to dodge any answer. Her eyes though, never believed him.

They relaxed down into chatter, and twenty minutes later the girls eyed the dance floor again. When Iain returned from the bathroom, Sienna had already disappeared.

Faye reached for her boyfriend’s hand, pulling him out of his seat with ease. “You haven’t danced with me.”

Bash stood, a cocky smile on his face. “Well then let’s rectify that.”

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