Page 38 of The Retreat
That made Talia turn her head. Her expression was unreadable.
Imogen’s mouth felt dry. She didn’t know what she was doing, just that her heart had been beating too fast since the moment Talia had put the blindfold on in the forest and said, with absolute reluctance, ‘I trust that you’ll get us back.’
And then suddenly, Talia reached up and touched her face. ‘You’ve got a thing,’ she said, brushing something from her cheek.
Imogen’s breath caught. It was the touch. Talia’s thumb was soft against her cheekbone. Slow. Precise.
It was gone as soon as it came, but Imogen felt it everywhere.
Talia’s eyes went wide as she pulled her hand back like she’d been electrified. ‘Oh. Sorry.’
Imogen shook her head. ‘No. It’s fine.’
She hoped she sounded normal. She didn’t feel normal. Her skin felt too tight. Her breath wasn’t coming evenly. Her eyes felt big.
Talia’s hand dropped to the mattress beside hers. Close enough that the sides of their little fingers almost kissed.
And neither of them moved.
Imogen felt a want, almost a need. The desire to reach across and justtouch. To take Talia’s hand. To ask something with her body that she didn’t dare to say aloud.
But Talia was rigid beside her. There was no moment happening. How could there be? Imogen was just losing her marbles.
The quiet between them stretched, and Imogen didn’t dare look directly at her.
And then Talia said, too fast, ‘Let’s get ready for dinner.’
She was on her feet, walking toward the bathroom before Imogen could answer. Her hand missed the light switch the first time, then she found it, and blinked against the glare.
‘Talia—’ Imogen started.
Talia shut the door a bit too hard. Not a slam, exactly. But the effect was the same.
Imogen stared at the door for a long moment and then looked down at her hand. Still resting on the bed, fingers curled inward. Alone.
Twenty-Five
Dinner was loud. The clink of cutlery, bursts of laughter, and the scrape of chairs on old wood floors were grating on Talia’s nerves.
Talia sat stiffly at the long table, pretending to focus on her food. There was a sauce-covered something on her plate. Possibly aubergine. Maybe a wet sock. She pushed it around, trying to look occupied. Trying not to look up. Not to look across the table at the woman sitting in front of her.
Imogen was talking to Jade, anyway. Talia could take a quiet moment to collect herself. And shewouldcollect herself. Everything was fine. They’d had a weird afternoon, that was all. A bit of blindfolded navigation, a smudge on a cheek, a blame taken, those things didn’t add up to much.
And the way Talia had felt Imogen’s hand on her arm, guiding her, steadying her… That had affected her only because she’d been tired. Disoriented. Vulnerable. Vulnerability did strange things to a person’s mind.
Talia stabbed a cherry tomato a bit too hard. It burst like a blister. She heard Jade laugh. Talia’s eyes lifted instinctively.
Jade was seated on Imogen’s other side, turned toward her with her chin in one hand, all loose hair and sparkly eyes. She said something that made Imogen smile.
It was probably nothing. Jade flirted with everyone. She was one of those people. Touchy. Breezy. In desperate need of that kind of attention constantly and permanently.
But Imogen was laughing back.
Talia looked away and cut a piece of aubergine. She chewed it, tasting nothing. She picked up her wineglass, then set it down again without drinking. Her eyes flicked back up against her will to see Jade touch Imogen’s wrist.
Suddenly, the stupid charade she and Imogen were playing together flashed into her mind. She was meant to be the girlfriend.
She leaned forward slightly, kept her voice light and jokey.
