Page 88 of Seven Exes

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asks after a moment and I hesitate.

‘Not really,’ I say honestly. I’m done with talking. Telling Rich and then Demi about this whole experience has put a few things in perspective. I know what I have to do next; it’s just all too big and too much right now. ‘I’m fine, I just needed a minute on my own.’

‘Do you need a hug then?’ He smiles and it’s a little lechy.

‘Um, no thanks,’ I say, suddenly wondering why he stayed. I was a crying girl in a loo, clearly looking to be alone. We’re not friends and I said I didn’t want to talk. He was under no obligation to stay. In fact, it was weird to stay.

‘Come here, let me give you a cuddle.’ He stands, reaching for me, and I draw back, a bit alarmed. ‘It’ll make you feel better, I promise.’ He grabs me and bundles me into his arms. I pull away but he’s strong. What’s happening here?

‘Let go of me, Franco, seriously,’ I say in an embarrassed whisper. Why am I not shouting? Why am Iembarrassed?

His hands move down to my arse and something in me loosens. I bring my foot up as high as I can and stamp it down on his with my full force. Then, with the other leg, Iknee him squarely in the balls. He yelps, falling away, and I dash for the door.

I’m free seconds later and running for the pub exit. I don’t stop until I find myself outside our front door, breathing hard.

Shit, Bibi was right about Franco. This must be why she hates him so much! Why she’s always telling him to get lost and trying to keep us away from him. He’s a fucking creepy assaulting scumbag monster.

I have to talk to her.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

My furious stomp through the front door and down the hallway is loud enough to bring Louise out of her room.

‘Er, are you OK?’ She unsubtly pulls her door shut behind her. She never used to do that.

‘Sorry,’ I stammer. ‘I just had to dump Alistair and then fight Franco.’

Her face falls and then rights itself into one of pure confusion. ‘What? Sorry what? Wait…’ She tries to comprehend my words. ‘You… when were you with Alistair? Why… did you saydump? And what did you say about Franco? As in Bibi’s Franco? Were you in the pub? What is—’

‘It’s a long story,’ I say and sail on past her, towards the kitchen. ‘Do you want a drink? I’m having one. Or fifty-five. Does your secret bedroom pal want one, too?’

I don’t turn around but there is guilt in her voice when she replies. ‘What do you meanbedroom pal? It’s just, er, Sven!’

‘Sure it is.’ I roll my eyes, hands already deep in the fridge fishing out wine. Hmm, pretty sure we opened this bottletwo months ago. But that’s fine, right? Wine is like cheese, it just gets better with age. Sometimes you just have to scrape off the mould.

Grabbing a large glass, I pour liberally and take a swig, ignoring the luminous film of stagnant liquid swimming on top. Louise joins me and I pour her one, too. She frowns at it but says nothing, following me to the sofa where I collapse.

‘Talk to me,’ she says after a disgusting sip. ‘What’s happened? You saw Alistair?’

‘Yep,’ I nod, taking another long drink. ‘He lied about the girlfriend and wanted us to be together. But it turns out kissing Alistair is like climbing inside a working mine and having someone with a pickaxe attack your face.’

She gasps and then gasps again. ‘Hold on.’ She brings up a finger. ‘Yes, that’s right. He was always a bad kisser when you were together at school, wasn’t he? Butsurelyhe’s improved since then. We were all bad kissers at school.’

I sigh. ‘It’s not his fault.’ I put down the glass on the coffee table and flop back into the sofa cushions. ‘It’s mine. Or no one’s, I don’t know. We just have zero chemistry, it was awful. I’m so sad and I feel terrible that I had to hurt him like that.’

Lou leans back and into me, trapping my arm. I release it, circling it around her shoulders instead.

‘Well,’ she says slowly. ‘I know I was all for Alistair, but I was also a bit worried about you getting back with him.’

‘You were?’

‘Yeah!’ She nods against my shoulder. ‘I mean, I got the impression he hasn’t changed much since school. He’s still mates with loads of people from school – organizing reunions and that. He’s still obsessed with his school girlfriend. He still wears Lynx Africa like when he was fifteen. And have you talked to him about his flat? His parents pay his rent! He told me at those reunion drinks!’ She looks agog. ‘He hasn’t really matured much, has he? He had that tantrum when you first met him up with him – storming off to punish you for saying something really not even that bad!’

‘You never said that at the time!’ I sit up a bit straighter. ‘I thought I was really out of order, and that’s why he abandoned me like that.’

She shrugs. ‘Well, you werea bitout of order, too. But adults can’t deal with stuff by storming off into the night all the time, can we? That was lame. And how immature was it for him to lie about having a girlfriend to – what? – make you jealous?’ She throws her hands up, spilling the old wine on me. ‘I mean, come on, that’s not cool! How would a long-term relationship work out with him if he lies or throws tantrums when he’s not getting his own way?’

I consider this. Louise has hardly spent any time with Alistair these last few months, and yet she sees him so much better than I do. Maybe I never really wanted to get to know him as a grown-up; as the Alistair he is now. I wanted to relive the glory days with the football captain from school. Maybe it never would’ve worked because I didn’t let myself get to know himnow.

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