Page 12 of It's Now or Never

‘You know, the band who should have turned up at the wedding. They got their wires crossed apparently and turned up at my place instead.’

The breath caught in my throat as a tingle of anticipation ran down my arms.

A contented weariness spread along my body. It had been a lovely, but long and exhausting day. Weddings always affected me that way. Alex had been great company but I wasn’t the type of person to go home with someone on a first date. Only this wasn’t a first date and this wasn’t just someone. This was a charming, gorgeous, red-hot date. Six months of trawling internet dating sites hadn’t brought anyone of this deliciousness anywhere near my inbox. This was definitely the ideal opportunity to practice what my mum had preached and embrace my inner gorgeousness.

‘Bloody band, getting the details wrong,’ I said, leaning across to leave a small kiss of intent on his lips. ‘I suppose we ought to give them the benefit of the doubt and turn up for at least one dance. I mean, it would be rude not to.’

6

‘Oh shit!’ An arm hit me in the shoulder and a flurry of sheets and pillows and covers were tossed in the air as the slow realisation of where I was and what I had done filtered into my consciousness. ‘Sorry, Jen, I’ve got an exhibition opening this morning. The artist is putting in an appearance and there’s a whole host of guests turning up. Well, that’s the plan anyway. I’ve got to go. I’m late as it is.’

Alex jumped out of bed without an inch of self-consciousness and I closed my eyes as though I hadn’t seen him in all his naked gloriousness the night before. Slowly I opened them again, my eyes adjusting to the light filtering in through white linen curtains, my brain adjusting to where I was and hoping to God Alex wouldn’t turn around again. Hoping that all of this was a product of my over-active imagination.

‘Take your time though.’ Oh God, there he went, doing exactly what I hadn’t wanted him to do. I quickly snapped my eyes shut again, trying to somehow un-see what had just been staring me in the face.

It wasn’t that I was a prude, it was just that I wasn’t that sort of girl. Or at least I thought I wasn’t until yesterday. I’d got to the ripe old age of twenty-seven and never had a one-night stand before. So lord knew what had possessed me to act so out of character last night and break a habit of a lifetime.

Possibly the champagne. Definitely the undeniable attraction of the man who was now running in and out of doorways, picking up and discarding various bits of clothing as though he was the lead character in a comedy farce.

What would Angie say if I told her? That despite all her warnings I’d ended up in bed with the groom’s best friend. Probably best not to tell her, I reckoned. By the time she returned from her honeymoon this would all be a hazy memory.

A pretty good memory admittedly. Alex had been the perfect companion, funny, charming and totally seductive, and it had been all too easy to fall for his charms. Oh, and the dancing, how could I have forgotten the dancing. I’d felt like Ginger Rogers to his Fred Astaire – gliding around Alex’s living room as though we could actually dance, laughing until we fell into an ungainly heap onto his sofa.

It had all felt so normal and natural, as if we’d known each forever, and now I sensed that late-night easy familiarity was about to be replaced by an early-morning awkwardness.

Alex was hopping about the bedroom looking less like the smooth operator of last night and more as though he had two left feet, pulling on a pair of black cotton boxers that only went a tiny way to making me feel any less embarrassed by being in close proximity to such a very naked man.

‘Help yourself to tea or coffee in the kitchen. It’s through there,’ he pointed helpfully. ‘There’s cereal in the cupboard or some bread in the tin if you want to make toast.’ He disappearedfor a few moments before poking his head round the door again, only thankfully this time he was fully dressed. ‘My phone’s not over there, is it?’

I gave a cursory glance over the bedside cabinet. A radio/alarm clock, a pair of engraved cufflinks, a half dozen assorted coins but, more insistently, a pair of abandoned silver teardrop earrings that were flashing at me like a pair of Belisha beacons. I felt a wave of nausea. My gaze got stuck on those damn things until I realised Alex was waiting for an answer.

‘Yep, it’s here,’ I said, leaning over and grabbing it for him.

‘Cheers.’ He came and perched on the edge of the bed and stroked his thumb across my cheek, taking the phone from me. ‘I had a really great time yesterday, Jen. The wedding was fab, but sharing the day with you, getting to know you made it all the more special.’

I smiled, feeling vulnerable, naked under his bed covers while he was fully dressed. I resisted the urge to reach up and throw my arms around his neck, pulling him back into bed but I sensed a subtle shift in the atmosphere from last night. It was obvious he wanted to get away as quickly as possible.

‘I’ve got your number so I’ll give you a call. We can do it again, go out for dinner or something?’

I nodded, pulling the duvet up higher around my body.

‘Or you give me a call, yeah?’ he added.

‘Yes, sure. We’ll get something sorted,’ I said, breezily. Now I remembered why I’d never had a one-night stand before. Everything that seemed so romantic and magical last night now only appeared sordid and awkward. Alex was going through the motions, saying what he thought was the socially acceptable thing to say in these situations, something he’d probably had a lot of practice at in the past.

He stood up and looked at his watch.

‘Aargh, sorry, Jen, I would really love to stay, but I have to go.’ He gave me a chaste kiss on the forehead before turning around and leaving. ‘I’ll see you soon, yeah,’ he called, the front door slamming shut after his departure.

No sooner was he out of the way than I quickly jumped out of bed. I didn’t want to hang around any longer than I had to, fumbling around his kitchen trying to feel as though I had every good reason to be there when in fact the opposite was true.

I’d felt a prick of shame even before I’d rolled out of bed, which was ridiculous really. I had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. I was a consenting adult and so was Alex, although it didn’t help that he’d already departed the crime scene. No, however much I tried to convince myself that this was all absolutely fine I still felt like a burglar stealthily negotiating a property I had no right to be in. I just hoped Alex wouldn’t dash back and find me scrabbling around the floor for my knickers, or the doorbell wouldn’t buzz or the phone wouldn’t ring or the owner of the earrings wouldn’t put in an early morning appearance. Those damned earrings! Who did they belong to exactly? I sighed. It had nothing to do with me, of course, but that was the trouble with romantic flings, there were so many unanswered questions.

I threw my clothes on, the ones so hastily abandoned last night, picked up my phone and my bag, gave a hasty check of the bedroom to make sure I hadn’t left anything behind, before letting myself out of the front door, relieved and disappointed that I would never need to see Alex again.

I marched out of the wine bar, my cheeks stinging with humiliation. Damn that woman! Who the hell did she think she was, telling me I couldn’t have my letter. I had every mind to march straight back in there and give her a piece of my mind. This time if she refused to hand it over I would clamber over the bar and rip it from her hands, but then if I did come off worst in a fight I might just be left with a few scraps of torn up paper which would defeat the object entirely. It even crossed my mind to phone the police to report the letter as stolen, but I could see that might be a slightly over-the-top thing to do. Besides, I wasn’t entirely sure of my legal rights to an envelope with my name on, but with a ‘do not open until’ proviso scribbled across the front.

The thing was I felt even more curious as to the contents of that note this morning, although why I was tormenting myself with ‘what-ifs’ I didn’t know. If I did get to read the letter, I would probably only end up disappointed. What was I expecting to find out? That Alex really did hold the secrets to my future. It was laughable. It had only been intended as a bit of fun.

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