Page 85 of The One Plus One
The little bed sagged audibly as he climbed in.
‘Are you comfortable like that?’ He looked at her over the lavender-coloured bedspread.
‘Totally fine!’ she said brightly. ‘You?’
‘If one of these springs impales me while I sleep, you have my permission to take the car the rest of the way.’
He gazed at her across the room for a moment longer, then turned out the bedside light.
The darkness was total. Outside, a faint breeze moaned through unseen gaps in the stone, trees rustled and a car door slammed, its engine roaring a protest. In the next room, Norman whined in his sleep, the sound only partially muffled by the thin plasterboard wall. Jess could hear Mr Nicholls breathing, and although she had spent the previous night only inches from him, she was acutely conscious of his presence in a way she hadn’t been twenty-four hours earlier. She thought of the way he had made Nicky smile, of the way his fingers rested on a steering-wheel. She thought of him slumped on the dry stone wall, his head in his hands, as he talked about what he had lost, the hurt and anger etched deep on his face.
She thought about some expression she had heard Nicky use a few weeks ago – YOLO – You only live once – and remembered how she had told him she thought it was just an excuse idiots used for doing prettymuch anything they felt like doing, no matter what the consequences.
She thought about Liam, and how she knew in her gut that he was probably having sex with someone right this minute – that ginger barmaid from the Blue Parrot, maybe, or the Dutch girl who drove the flower van. She thought about a conversation she’d had with Chelsea when Chelsea had told her she should lie about her kids because no man would ever fall in love with a single mother of two, and how Jess had got angry with her because deep down she knew she was probably right.
She thought about the fact that even if Mr Nicholls didn’t go to prison, she would probably never see him again after this trip.
And then, before she could think too hard about anything else, Jess eased herself silently out of the chair, letting the blanket fall to the floor. It took only four steps to reach the bed, and she hesitated, her bare toes curled in the acrylic carpet, even then not quite sure what she was doing.You only live once. And then in the near-total dark there was a faint movement and she saw Mr Nicholls turn to face her as she lifted the duvet and climbed in.
Jess was chest to chest against him, her cool legs against his warm ones. There was nowhere else to go in this tiny bed, with the sag of the mattress pushing them closer together and its edge like a cliff-drop just inches behind her. They were so close that she could breathe in the remnants of his aftershave, his toothpaste. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest, as her heart thumpederratically against his. She tilted her head a little, trying to read him. He put his right arm across the duvet, a surprisingly heavy weight, gathering her in closer to him. With his other, he took her hand and enclosed it slowly in his. It was dry and soft, and inches from her mouth. She wanted to lower her face to his knuckles and trace her lips along them. She wanted to reach her mouth up to his, and run her teeth gently along the soft curve of his upper lip.
You only live once.
She lay there in the dark, paralysed by her own longing, by the fact that just this once she did not know the answer, or even the question.
‘Do you want to have sex with me?’ she said, into the darkness.
There was a long silence.
‘Did you hear what –’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And…no.’ He spoke again before she could turn completely to stone. ‘I just think it would make things too complicated.’
‘It’s not complicated. We’re both young, lonely, a bit pissed. And after tonight we’re never going to see each other again.’
‘How so?’
‘You’ll go back to London and lead your big city life, and I’ll be down on the coast leading mine. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.’
He was silent for a minute. ‘Jess…I don’t think so.’
‘You don’t fancy me.’ She prickled with embarrassment, remembering suddenly what he’d said about hisex. Lara was a model, for Chrissakes. But even as she shifted away from him, his hand tightened around hers. His voice was a murmur in her ear. ‘You’re beautiful.’
She waited. His thumb brushed over her palm. ‘So…why won’t you sleep with me?’
He didn’t say anything.
‘Look. Here’s the thing. I haven’t had sex in three years. I sort of need to get back on the horse, and I think it – you – would be great.’
‘You want me to be a horse.’
‘Not like that. I need a metaphorical horse.’
‘And now we’re back to confusing metaphors.’
‘Look, a woman you say you find beautiful is offering you no-strings sex. I don’t understand the problem.’
‘There’s no such thing as no-strings sex.’
