Page 93 of The Reboot
‘I’m wide awake.’
‘And,’ he turned and looked at the clock, ‘it’s not your birthday anymore.’ It was ten minutes after midnight.
‘Oh.’ She sighed. ‘Don’t you want to, though?’ She leaned in, seeking his mouth again.
‘I just don’t think it’s a good idea.’ He gave her a frustratingly chaste kiss on the forehead, like she was a sleepy child.
‘Don’t go, though,’ she said as her eyes drooped closed. Suddenly she did feel sleepy. ‘Let’s just stay here like this. We don’t have to get undressed or anything.’
‘It’s my bed.’ She could hear the smile in his voice. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
She sighed, nestling closer to him. ‘Me either.’
23
‘Good morning.’
Ella opened her eyes to see Roly still on the bed beside her. They were both fully dressed, lying on top of the duvet. Light flooded in through the gap in the curtains, and memories of last night came crowding back into her head – mainly memories of kissing. It had been amazing, but it was probably a good thing that Roly had called a halt and they hadn’t gone any further. There’d be morning-after regrets and then things would be awkward as fuck between them. She’d probably end up having to move out.
‘Morning,’ she said.
‘How do you feel?’
She tested her head, shaking it a little. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘No hangover. It probably helps that I ate my own body weight in Mexican food.’
‘You did have plenty of soakage.’
‘Maybe we should go for a run to make up for it,’ she said without enthusiasm.
‘I’d rather stay here and do this.’ He put an arm around her and pulled her closer, then leaned in and kissed her. She couldn’t suppress a gasp of surprise.
‘I mean, if you still want to?’ he asked, pulling back. ‘Last night you said—’
‘That this was what I wanted to do for the rest of my birthday. But you stopped. You said it wasn’t a good idea.’
‘Just because you were a bit pissed. I didn’t want you to do something you might regret.’ His eyes glittered as they dropped to her mouth. ‘But you’re not drunk now.’
‘Neither are you.’
‘I never was.
‘Oh. Yeah…’ She wondered briefly if that made all his sexual encounters super-charged, never being able to pass it off as a drunken mistake. Every decision he made was clear-headed and intentional. There was no fuzziness for him, no blurring of the edges. Which meant that last night, stone-cold sober he’d wanted to kiss her…
‘So if you still want to do this…’ He edged closer.
‘Do you?’ She couldn’t hide her surprise. Somehow she’d assumed he’d think better of it in the light of day – that they both would, and they’d laugh it off as heat-of-the-moment stupidity and agree never to mention it again.
‘Of course. I wasn’t drunk last night, remember. But if you’ve changed your mind—’
‘No!’ It came out so emphatically, she laughed. ‘I still want to.’ It seemed only fair to meet him halfway, to be as honest and vulnerable as he was.
‘Me too,’ he said, moving in to kiss her again. ‘Really badly.’
He was an amazing kisser, and fireworks burst inside her as his tongue slid into her mouth. She thought how strange it should be to be kissing Roly Punch after all these years, all the time she’d known him. If her younger self could have seen this image – the two of them tangled together on his bed, her hand raking through his hair, their mouths locked together in a fierce kiss – she wouldn’t have believed it. But in this moment it didn’t feel strange. It just felt deeply, gloriously right.
His hands roamed over her body, sending sparks of electricity racing along her veins wherever they touched. When he tugged down the top of her dress, she arched into him as his hand cupped her breast, stroking the nipple through the lace of her bra. But as he slid a hand up her bare leg, pushing her dress up with it, she panicked. Because this was Roly – Roly Punch who slept with women like Pippa, women with flat stomachs and skinny thighs. No, not just womenlikePippa,actualPippa – an underwear model, as he never ceased to remind her.
‘Maybe we should wait, though,’ she said, stilling his hand and pulling away.
